Fashion is a vocabulary. Clothing communicates parts of who we are, what we are interested in and how we want to be seen. It reveals choices that we make – but it also exposes lack of choice.
I am a disabled woman; I have dwarfism. My disability and stature is obvious and often shapes a first interaction. I’ve learned to love scouring through rails of clothes in high street stores and charity shops, and taking the items for alterations to make sure they fit. I know that if there are patterns or embroidery near the shoulder or ankle of a garment, altering it won’t work. I’ve found that jeans and trousers have to be elasticated at the back so they go over my hips with ease and don’t gape at the back. I’ve also learned that dresses and skirts should have an asymmetrical hemline to accommodate the curve in my spine. As I’ve got older, I’ve discovered that many of these alterations don’t just work for me, but would also improve comfort, independence and dressing for most people. Accessible design is better design.
To show you what this looks like in action: I recently had the pleasure of attending a dinner to mark Jannik Sinner’s return to Wimbledon. Beforehand, I was nervous. I wanted to wear something that would instil confidence, be comfortable and allow me to move about with personality and dignity. I chose a blazer, cashmere jumper and black pants. During my time working in fashion, I had the privilege of building relationships with designers, and this jacket was custom-made by Gucci. The pocket is proportional and the buttons are deliberately placed to be mindful of my figure. The wool pants are also custom-made by Prada and close with a fastener and zip, rather than a button, to avoid dexterity issues, and the back of the waistband is elasticated. The jumper is from Johnstons of Elgin in Scotland – their store is step-free and has rails at multiple levels. I chose it because it needed no alterations; the short-sleeve is mid‑length for me, and wearable throughout the year.
I’ve spent almost a decade working in the luxury fashion industry, because I want more choice, more representation and more respect for disabled customers – and across the industry there is lots to celebrate.
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The Victoria and Albert Museum currently has an exhibition called Design and Disability, curated by Natalie Kane, that shows the innovation in accessibility. It features the work of Victoria Jenkins, the disabled designer behind Unhidden, a leading adaptive brand that will be part of this year’s official London Fashion Week.
Tommy Hilfiger has an adaptive collection, Liberare creates bras that close at the front rather than the back, Tilt Beauty has a line of products that allow you to put mascara on with greater ease, and Primark has increased representation in the in-store mannequins and begun to make their childrenswear range seam- and label-free for neurodivergent kids. But, we need to think of disabled people as more than customers.
In 2020, I founded Tilting the Lens, a strategic accessibility consultancy that aims to create the conditions for disabled people to be successful. We’ve developed a scholarship for disabled designers with Parsons School of Design in New York, and we’ve spent the past year undertaking research with more than 200 disabled people across the UK to develop a white paper on adaptive fashion, to improve understanding of the market and innovation opportunities. We’ve learned so much about making clothing more inclusive, but also the need for stores and real estate, packing and delivery to be accessible, too. I want disabled people to be valued consumers – but for that to happen they also need to be decision-makers, leaders and trustees.
