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• Posted by Wheelchair Dancer
• 24 Sep 07, 8:30 AM

It's that time of year again. Fashion weeks in New York, London, and the obligatory discussion of skinny models. It's a worthy discussion -- don't get me wrong. Model deaths are shocking, horrible, and all too frequent. But what I want to know is where are the clothes that look good for wheelchair users. Where are the disabled models? Where are the wheels? The canes? The prosthetics? The different bodies? OK. Not gonna happen, right? If the fashion world cannot accept a diversity of non-disabled women's bodies, they are surely not going to be happy about the physical variations possible with disability. Grin.

The hip women at last year created a fashion show in which designers such as Marc Bouwer, Nicole Miller, St. John, and Kimora Lee Simmons (baby phat) created a chair for the "roll models." There was a gala, circa 600 people came, and there will be another one sometime -- presumably in 2008. Not enough, say I.

I emailed the DTD people to ask if the designers were planning to release lines of clothing that took wheelchair users into consideration. Not a chance. They were most interested in having the designers create wheelchairs (they used clothes that they had already designed for the models). If I wanted to contact the designers on my own and ask about designer clothing, that was my own affair (like they post their email addresses on the web, right!). So, a one-off sparkly sequined gold wheelchair (cool), but no designer clothes to buy in the boutiques. No use having a personal shopper -- though Emma Bowler for Ouch did well with one -- if the ideal clothes just aren't there this year. "Sorry, we don't keep those any more."

It's not that I am asking designers to release "special" clothing for those "special" people, though the notion of, say, "Versace for cripples" kind of intrigues me. Prada-cyborg-wheelchair-metallic-space-age? It's that if I wanted to spend on a special dress for, say, Wizard's annual company "do" -- an event at which dressed-to-the-nines would be an understatement -- it is virtually impossible to find something that looks devastating when sitting. I am really picky about my clothes. I like to look good, and I am willing to spend a fair amount of money to do so. I want something to display my best assets -- not something that relies on the eye-catching standing female form. (And, of course, I am not model skinny, so I want designers to design for bodies with, um, curves...). I'd also like to be able to buy couture clothing that works for wheelchair users, but, then again, I'd also like the budget to be able to afford that. So, for the meantime, I'd settle for knowing that Gucci offers stuff that is designed with the seated person in mind and that someone, somewhere, is wearing it.

On a more pressing level, I want to be able to buy edgier clothes on a daily basis (well, not daily!!). I don't need zip up cardigans that balloon if worn in a position other than standing. Elastic waist doesn't have to mean shapeless. Tailored doesn't have to mean tight. Tight doesn't have to mean non--breathable fabric. We can wear ordinary clothes, and for the most part, most of us do. We go to the high street or the mall, the shopping center and the boutiques, and we rootle around until we find something that works (3/4 length sleeves are divine, cropped jackets awesome, millions of tiny buttons a pain...). Occasionally, we make use of a piece of dedicated , but, I am willing to bet, we do most of the adapting ourselves.

There are any number of beauty bloggers and fashion consultants who have come up with guides and stuff for looking good while in a wheelchair. comes to mind as being particularly precise about the demands your wheels place upon your clothes. But being a chair user isn't the only form of disability that places demands upon the wardrobe. And it is not as if mainstream figures like Trinny and Susannah really care, as Lady Bracknell notes in . Somehow, thick ankles, short calves take precedence over wheels. OHhhhh!

Ha! Writing this has made me think about it differently. Perhaps it is a good thing they don't care. After all, T+S et al see difference as deficit, a flaw to be corrected. Imagine. Knobby tires vs rubber vs racing. How would you dress to accommodate that? The low cut back vs the high back. High profile cushion with air cells vs foam cushion. Scissor brakes, anyone? So many fashion implications. Not. OK, well, disability politics. All well and good. But I still NEED something to wear.

Last week, I went to a meeting at the bank. Everyone was wearing "dress to impress" professional garb. I was also wearing work attire, but in my case, this meant dancer clothes. No, not tights and a leotard (definitely not cool to be seen outside the studio in anything remotely resembling *that*), but also quite clearly exercise wear. I realized that my dance clothes are some of the best fitting, disability friendly clothes I have. That's good, because I spend many hours a day in them. It's bad, because, well, the 80's are, thank god, over.

I have once had the experience of being dressed, perfectly. I went in and was greeted with the over enthusiastic, inspiring junk. I almost left again, but my eye caught this dress. "No, no. You can't wear that," she said. I turned a steely gaze on her. "You use a wheelchair. You need this. That. This. That. And this would look great on you. Fluff your hair up. Pull that lower when you put it on." She was right, too. Wish her attitude had been as good as her style; I've not been back since. And it turned out to be hard to replicate her suggested look when I went to other shops.

I'm not happy. The weather has changed; I'm under-dressed. I have changed shape and size. My non dance winter clothes have holes in them or wheelchair gunky, oily stains on them. The cats have wrecked my sweaters. My coat has split at the armpits (wheeling in chunky jumpers). I need clothes, dammit.

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