“Flattering” Clothing Is Killing Your Personal Style

I’d been stalking the same Stine Goya dress for almost two years. Consider it my white whale or, more appropriately, the one that got away during the Nordstrom Canada liquidation sale (RIP). The item in question was the Elena 3-D floral dress from the Danish brand’s Spring 2023 collection. Bespeckled with flouncy 3-D florals in cerulean blue and pistachio green, the black mini resembled a ‘60s swim cap with arm holes. After years of regret and multiple Google alerts, I finally found it on The RealReal—and for 50 per cent off, no less. But then a funny thing happened. As my fingers fumbled to find the “buy now” button, I hesitated. Looking at the dress’s triangular shape and bulky embellishments, I wondered, “Will it be flattering on me?” 

Of course, a garment’s figure flattery is highly subjective. For most, a complementary piece of clothing is one that helps your body look its “best”—your waist at its thinnest, your legs at their longest, your bum at its smallest (Or biggest? Or roundest? But not too round? We can’t keep up with that one). But, increasingly, slimming clothing is being consolidated with style.

Think of our obsession with Ozempic, the success of Kim K’s Skims and the resurgence of Y2K fashion. It’s a mistake to equate one with the other—a mistake I’m also guilty of making. At its essence, fashion serves as a profound form of personal expression—an immediate and eloquent means of conveying one’s identity, mood and emotions through the subtle language of appearance. An outfit becomes an outward manifestation of an intimate narrative, where colour, texture and design articulate what words often cannot.

So what are we telling the world when the main message we want to articulate is one of thinness? And if clothes are simply another way to conform to society’s expectations, can you really say you’re dressing for yourself?

In order to begin to free ourselves from these rigid societal expectations of our bodies, there should be a place for unflattering clothes in our closets. Clothes that balloon like a Cirque du Soleil tent. Clothes that place pleats and other bulky details directly on our hips. Clothes that are swollen with feathers, beads and appliqués that add volume for volume’s sake. Or, perhaps, joy for joy’s sake.

Unflattering clothing will set you free.

Luckily, there are plenty of designers who are leading the unflattering-clothes charge: Scandi brands including Ganni, with its viral tie top with inflated puff sleeves and oversized peplums, and Goya, whose design manifesto credits colour as the core of her creativity and a language unto itself. Hence, she doesn’t subscribe to the idea that black is the most fashionable (or flattering) colour. “It’s a very traditional view,” she says via email. “When I design, I’m not concerned with the notion of slimming or concealing. I’m more interested in creating pieces that celebrate personal style. And for me, colour goes beyond just making someone look smaller; it’s about making them feel seen—empowered.”

Also leading the conversation are Canadian vanguard designers like L’Uomo Strano, Dorian Who and Tristan Réhel. They embrace bold spherical silhouettes and bulky fabrics, while Réhel, in particular, adds quirky accents—such as oversized ribbons on dresses and Dr. Seuss-inspired hemlines on pleated tops—that demand to take up space. But convincing consumers who have been taught to prioritize thinness above personal expression is proving to be a challenge.

“Every client, man or woman, comes to me with insecurities they face with their body,” explains Kenzie Welch, the stylist behind @stylingwithkenzie and the viral What Not to Wear-esque makeovers on TikTok. “But I like to approach styling with the mindset of transforming from within. Instead of trying to hide a ‘flaw,’ we work together to embrace it and not let it stop them from wearing something that makes them happy.”

Based on this philosophy, the first thing Welch considers when working with a new client is the “essence or energy” of the person she’s helping. And the last? Their body type. “Looking thinner is never a goal we discuss,” she says. “Style is not about walking into a room and being the skinniest. It’s about wearing an outfit that authentically expresses who you are as a person.” For many, that’s easier said than done. That’s because the media we consume and the society we participate in conditions us to hide, manipulate and cover up any part of our body that does not conform to very specific ideals. 

“First and foremost, ‘flattering’ will always be a euphemism for thinness,” notes May Friedman, a professor at the schools of Fashion and Social Work at Toronto Metropolitan University. “We’re basically supposed to be coat hangers and make our bodies disappear.” In other words: Unflattering clothing will set you free. “The pressure to dress in a flattering way can definitely hold people back from embracing their true style,” reflects Goya. “When focusing too much on what’s considered thinning, you might miss out on the joy of experimenting with shapes, colours and pieces that really reflect who you are.”

So, yes, I bought that Stine Goya dress. I’m mad at myself for even hesitating. My style—nay, worth—is not defined by how slim my waist appears, by the thickness of my thighs or by the width of my upper arms. I am dressing for my damn self. And if I want to be covered in bulbous blue and green florals, so be it. After all, the most flattering thing I could be is myself.