In India, Anti-Fit Clothing Can Fit a Feminist Way of Dressing
What is a tight dress? Is it empowering, or is it a tiny, tyrannical piece of clothing holding our bodies hostage?
It’s so tricky, right? When you think about how the most ordinary and intimate of acts — like getting dressed — can have real political consequences.
Let’s first start with the definition of ‘anti-fit’. Anti-fit is a top that refuses to divulge your figure. It’s a dress that won’t reveal your body’s secret. Anti-fit pants won’t choke you with their tight embrace (perhaps they are better than stuffy relationships in a way).
On some subliminal level, the aesthetic has appealed to so many women. They have adopted the style in their flouncy skirts and sack-like dresses.
With genderless fashion, and the rise of a “man-repelling aesthetic” — courtesy Leandra Medine of the Man Repeller — and even a growing combativeness on the part of women towards street harassment (that coexists with their fight for the freedom to dress), women are consciously investing in this aesthetic. There are other intellectual arguments presented in favour of anti-fit fashion as well.
For Ashima, anti-fit is wearing her dad’s shirt and performing other such clothing experiments. And is it a sartorial compromise? No! She beautifully layers it with an additional jacket to add varied peels to her style. Ashima also experiments with loose culottes and complements them with either a loose top, or a crisp white shirt.
Manou, whose blog Wearabout would have popped up on your social media feeds at some point or the other, thinks anti-fit has a lot to do with being confident about who you are, and being comfortable in your skin.
ing from a wonderful line that appears in Ms Blog, “If feminists ignore fashion, we are ceding our power to influence it.” And all evidence suggests that anti-fit is indeed feminist in a sense, in that it dictates an aesthetic for the women, by the women.