I checked out the new book Big City Knits by Wenlan Chia Saturday afternoon and while I think it's got a few interesting things in it, I was offended down to my socks that the models are all emaciated skeletons. And nothing in the book is sized for larger than a 33 inch chest which is like what? A size 3?
I kid you not.
I know I would likely never venture down the super chunky path to "doll sized" (quote from the book) sweaters anyway, but this book is ridiculous. It infuriated me like animal testing and surge politics infuriates me. Just when Rowan finally gets their act in gear to write patterns for the larger than size 10 majority, this book re-enforces the fleshless abnegation of the female form. It rubs salt in well-rubbed wounds. What the f*ck?
I sputter helplessly.
Edited to add: I watched the comments turn a little vicious in spite of my not having intended any Randy Newman "Short People" equivalent towards the thin among us. I want to clarify that I was distressed rather at the frailty of the models, the celebration of their passivity, and the expressionless averted gazes all for the peddling of sweaters that are written in sizes with barely an inch to distinguish them from one another as if that were a fully realized representation of the acceptable female range. I feel the book itself is guilty of implying that sickly = normal. "Thin" never entered into it as far as I was concerned. But I was pre-occupied in the post with my own sizing dilemmas rather than the ones that women at the other end of the spectrum have, and I never intended to insult. I am sorry for any offense this post has caused.
Edited Further to add: Please see this post for my retraction of some of this critique.