Marketing Skipper as the “New Barbie” By Monica Wilcox

I had no idea the fashion industry was running low on adult female models until I received my recent Victoria Secret swimsuit catalog.  What a sorry situation this has turned out to be; using thirteen year old girls to imposter grown women.  Obviously their Photoshop technicians lack experience in age amplification; the addition of hips, breasts, a broader face, smile lines, sophistication behind the eyes.  If the market is going to ask me to imagine myself lounging around the pool in a suit being modeled on the shapeless body of a middle schooler, well New York…we have a problem.

I’m trying to put myself under the delusional buyer misconception that this swimsuit will magically transform my body into the type 4% of the female population struts in, verses the shape 96% of women live with, but all I’m getting are flashbacks of middle school.  Surely the fashion gurus are not selling me some sick ideal of a 7^th grade body; the acne, arms longer than trunks, clumsy adult feet on knobby legs, belts cinched around a non-existent waistline, girls towering like leaning skyscrapers over the boys. The only person I know who enjoyed that year was the one who spent most of it in a coma.  No, I don’t desire a retro look that screams “I have acne, braces, and smelly feet; pick one and torment me over it.”

When did attractive, adult, photographic women become an endangered species?  This poor girl’s attempting to sell a swimsuit designed for a woman with Pamela Anderson curves and a Sophia Loren confidence. My father used to say, “You’re not a woman until you’ve experienced enough life to know who you’ve got residing in your gut. That’s when you go from living in your skin to standing in it. The day you fall in love with your own life is the day you become a woman.” This level of self-awareness puts a look in a woman’s eyes that can not be photoshopped, taught or feigned. It also happens to be the sexiest marketing tool out there.

I wouldn’t buy this slashed black suit out of fear that my fellow pool goers will mistake me for Miley Cyrus.  I want a suit to compliment the heart break, success, frustration and joy my body has carried me through. Firm legs that have taken me down many long roads, sloping hips that have bred two lives, and sun freckled skin from days spent playing in the outdoors. I’ve earned every part of my appearance and I’m ready to see my future wardrobe marketed by models who have also earned theirs. “Forever 21” has dealt enough pressure on the female population to make “Almost 14” down right ludicrous.

Instead of staging a talent search on every playground in America, it’s time for the industry to feature women who have well-aged self-confidence blooming in their eyes. Women who have brought success to every level of their lives while amplifying their outer beauty. Frankly New York, I’d rather purchase from Barbie’s closet; a woman who has experienced more than your average 51 year old.  Skipper, she’s very cute, but she’s got a long way to go before she stands in her own skin.

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