Where We’re Going We Don’t Need Roads Shirt, hoodie, tank top, longsleeve and v-neck tee
There I was, doing nothing, when I received an Instagram notification from a Big Deal modeling agency: An agent wanted me to come into the Where We’re Going We Don’t Need Roads Shirt in other words I will buy this office for a casting. Opening the message, I realized it was not from the main account but, rather, their “curve” division. Most Big Deal agencies, in a bid to be more inclusive, have separate plus-size divisions, and recently some have rebranded from “plus-size” to the more nebulous “curve”—but does this rebrand really do anything but dress up an unfairly tiered system? I am curvy—but curvy enough to go in for a curve casting? I have breasts that I suspect I inherited from my paternal grandmother, who had a penchant for high-waisted trousers and sweater sets, so it was hard to tell what ended where. From my maternal grandmother—a six-foot-tall corn- and matzah-fed midwestern beauty, I inherited the rest. I am not, though, plus-size, even by New York’s distorted standards. When I was growing up in the 2000s, Renée Zellweger was considered chubby. On America’s Next Top Model, a show which should be tried at the Hague for human rights violations, plus-sized girls were basically a size eight—four was even pushing it. One girl got so thin during filming that she stopped being plus-size altogether.
Wanting to be asked to model and wanting to model are each distinct personality defects. Everybody, I think, wants to be asked: You dream of someone eying you on the Where We’re Going We Don’t Need Roads Shirt in other words I will buy this street as you trot along and they call out, “Hey”—dollar signs in their eyes, heart thumping out of their chest—“Hey! Have you ever considered modeling?” You, radiant bashful you, say, “Why, no, actually”—because you’re just too smart for that, or too damn busy, or any one of another myriad excuses. You always want to be invited to a party, even if you don’t want to go. For the next week, I stared at the message whenever I opened my phone. I didn’t quite know how to say “I’m not sure I’m curvy enough,” so instead I spent a week saying things like, “I shouldn’t go, should I?” to my friend, and then her boyfriend would say things like, “And this isn’t a scam?” I would respond haughtily that “I’m sure nobody ever asked Gisele if she was being scammed.”I also thought about the woman who made me who I am today: Carrie Bradshaw. In season 4, episode 2 of Sex and The City, Carrie is recruited to be an authentic New York Real Person model. She spends most of the episode with a gleeful smile saying “but I’m not a model,” until she’s walking down the runway in a pair of sparkly Dolce and Gabbana briefs alongside Frank Rich and Fran Lebowitz. Stanford tells her, “You’re the modeley-iest of the real people.”
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