Size Bashing on "Project Runway": Why Heidi Should Say "Auf Wiedersehen" to Ven Budhu

Terri, Ven Budhu’s client (Season 10, Episode 6)

I’ve been feeling a bit run down lately and part of my self-care regimen has (obviously) been the online watching of a lot of back-episodes of the TV shows I’ve missed this summer. Over the last couple days, I’ve been catching up on that Tim Gunn and Heidi Klum-fueled hour of eyecandy for armchair fashionistas: Project Runway (Season 10). Finally, I was up to last week’s challenge – episode 6: “Makeover My Friend.”

It was one of those “real women” challenges when the Project Runway designers make clothes for non-model folks. Oh, yeah, theoretically the folks they should be making clothes for most of the time anyway.

But I digress.

The episode quickly became a size-bashing fest courtesy of (to my Desi shame) the one South Asian American designer, Ven Budhu. Dear old average-sized Ven apparently has some serious hatred of women he’s working on – because he took every opportunity possible during the episode to baby-moan about how “shocked” he was that his model was perhaps a *titter, titter, laugh* SIZE 14! And how it was “obviously unfair” that he had the “largest” model when others had clients who were the same size as regular models.

But Ven didn’t just keep it to himself, or his mentor, or his fellow contestants. He took it right to his client herself – commenting how “surprised” he was at how pretty she looked after the haircut part of her makeover, and how, even though she didn’t want to wear black, he had decided to go with black because it was (get your pinch-face on) “slimming.”

Check out this terrible-funny recap from tvgasm, or this clip from Hulu entitled, appropriately, “Bad Budhu” to get an up close and personal load of his kvetching to Tim Gunn (“she has no shape,” “she has no style”), deadpan disgust, and “oh none of these belts are big enough for your ginormousity” insulting statements. His antics were so bad both behind his client’s back and right smack in front of her face that he made her and the friend who dragged her in for a makeover in the first place actually CRY. (Oh, yeah, and me too.)

Meanwhile, even previously crabby designers (Elena, Gunnar, I’m looking at you, darlings) were having sob-worthy love-fests with their clients. Things were all fairy-wands and rainbow-scented unicorns, even with some of the normally mean judges (Nina Garcia, Fashion Editor of Marie Claire magazine, I am so looking at you), fashion was meant to uplift a woman, bring out her real personality, make her more herself, but better! (Clap! Clap! Pixie Squeal! Hooray!)

But affect-challenged Ven wasn’t having any of that. No, he was old-school, all the way. Fashion isn’t to make you feel good! Fashion is about unflattering dressing room lights, funhouse mirrors for trying on swimsuits, and a nosy saleswomen who pops open the curtain right when you’re naked only to suggest you need SPANX.

For the rest of this rant, please visit Adios, Barbie! 

Parents as Protagonists: Is Pixar's "Brave" an Antidote to the Dead Parent Syndrome?

"Brave"'s mother and daughter: Courtesy of Disney/Pixar

Over the last several months, I've read innumerable reviews (these from Forbes, Ms. and Slate are examples) suggesting that in their 2012 film "Brave", Pixar had finally created a feminist princess story. Well, I finally gathered the 8 and 10 yo troops and went to see it.

While I agree, the film suggests a terrific, empowering alternative to the "someday my prince will come" just-waiting-for-rescue-and-then-marriage princess narrative, the reason this feminist mother found "Brave" fascinating was its placement of a parent, front and center, in the action. Indeed, just today, I read that Brenda Chapman, the writer and co-director of the film, intended both the mother and daughter to be co-protagonists, but felt it was marketers who placed the princess Merida as the sole protagonist. In her words, "I always considered Merida and Elinor equal characters. Both of their arcs needed to be completed. This movie is a love story between a mother and daughter.”

A mother and daughter as equal characters, whose conflict drives the plot? A love story between a mother and a daughter? Oh, happy day, zip-e-dee-doo-dah, could this really be?

Just consider that in most fairy tales, mothers are often dead, or effectively absent. While this  undoubtedly paves the way for the princess of the tale to encounter danger and obstacles, it also sets such tales up for the perfect female antagonist - the evil stepmother/witch. Think about it: Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Rapunzel - they all have them. Power-hungry, wicked, yet inexplicably driven mad by their waning beauty, they are the foils to innocent princesses awaiting sexual awaking, er, I mean, rescue. Forget Silence=Death, these films seem to say, the real equation is that Menopause=Death (and evil-doing!). In 2010, I suggested that the smothering witchy stepmother in Disney's Tangled was the penultimate example of the Freudian/Elektra-ish/Oedipal need for protagonists to "kill their mother figures off" before getting their sexual groove on. 

Modern day children's literature too has a dearth of live parents. Earlier last year, Leila Sales called this the "Ol' Dead Dad Syndrome" in children's literature. While the common thinking is that parents must be removed from the scene in order for young protagonists to face danger, rise to challenges, and drive their own adventures, relationships with parents are a critical part of most real children and teen's lives. In that case, writing parents, and writing nuanced parent-child relationships, is challenging, but essential for writers of children's literature.

Which is why "Brave" is, to me, a feminist tale. Not simply because it rewrites the princess narrative, giving a young woman physical prowess, fighting skills, a brain, and a brave heart. Not simply because it removes romance, princely rescue and marriage (largely) from the plot. Pixar's "Brave" is a feminist tale because it focuses on a quintissential, and critically important, female relationship: the mother-daughter bond. And rather than making it two dimensional, or static ('mothers and daughters can't get along!'), the film shows how both mother and daughter can change, and in so doing, how they can save each other, and themselves.

My favorite scene from "Brave"? The one where Merida takes a stand between her father and his warriors and her magically transformed-into-a-bear mother, announcing, "I'll not let you kill my mother!"  And a few seconds later, when Mama Bear roars to Merida's rescue as she is attacked by the evil bear Mor'du -- communicating without words the sentiment roaring in this mother's heart: "I'll not let you hurt my child. I'll die first."

Evil stepmothers and dead mothers are tropes whose time may be of the past. A fierce mama as a co-protagonist? That's a brave feminist trend I can get behind.