Buying cheap bespoke outfits from Ghana's many skilful tailors proves what Givenchy always knew – that clothes should fit our bodies, not the other way round
I find shopping on the high street hard work. I can't wear skinny jeans – the drainpipe look doesn't work with calf muscles. Trousers that fit my legs gape at the waist, or have what looks like the right-size waist, in a hypothetical sort of way since I can't get them past my knees.
My body shape is not unusual – small waist, hips, strong legs. I'm proud of it, in fact. I've learned which shops to avoid, and where there's a chance of finding things that fit. When it all goes pear-shaped, excuse the pun, I have a tailor-made version of a Hubert de Givenchy expression that boosts my morale. "Clothes should be made to fit our bodies, not our bodies made to fit the clothes."
The possibility of designing an entire bespoke wardrobe is one of the major attractions of life in Ghana. Here tailors do not exist on Savile Row or strut around fashion weeks with strange goatees. They are unassuming men and women who sit in shipping containers-cum-workshops on just about every road in every town, bent over sewing machines, making clothes that fit perfectly. I feel better dressed just at the sight of one of them, measuring tape round their neck. They offer heavenly promise of my own private collection, which I design, and for which I am the best, and only model.
Friends who visit me in Ghana from the UK have taken to bringing the precious fruit of their high-street trawls – the few outfits that fit and flatter them perfectly – and getting them copied here multiple times in different colours and different prints.
Much-loved purchases that didn't fit quite right, or which they planned to slim into but failed, can be taken in, taken up, taken out, or whatever else is necessary to make them look perfect. It's not just women – I had no idea so many men found it difficult to buy trousers that fit at the waist and don't cut off their blood circulation at the thighs. The same container-creators are capable of making surprisingly good suits.
To say this is cheaper than haute couture or a stylist is a huge understatement. It's so much less it could justify a plane ticket to Ghana. It is also significantly less annoying than watching Gok Wan or filling out "which garden fruit does my body resemble" questionnaires in magazines. It's the ultimate anti-Abercrombie & Fitch experience.
I'm convinced women's body image issues come with their clothes. Women in Europe and America might think they would look better if they were thinner, but that's just shorthand for thinking if they were thinner, they would look better in their clothes. I think of this with revelations of women starving themselves to reach size zero, fainting regularly and having a hospital bed for a second home when a drip becomes the essential diet accessory.
But if these issues inherently come from the clothes – then can they be exported with them, too? Second-hand European clothes are all the rage in West Africa now, which is almost like a UK high-street worst scenario. Never mind the fact that people in developed countries think they are donating clothes to charity, and not to some enterprising retailer in Ghana or Nigeria who is flogging them on the roadside. But for the women who buy them – as a cheaper alternative to getting their own clothes made – they are buying into cuts and sizes that were designed for completely different body shapes to theirs, that are used, and of which there is only one size to choose from.
The results are already showing. The curves – and Ghanaian woman are certainly curvy – that look so attractive in tailor-made and African costumes, quickly become a sea of pot bellies, muffin tops and over-spilling bosoms in European ones. I've started to notice young women patting their tummies ruefully as the contours appear through their clingy maxi-dresses. They are only one, tiny step away from feeling self-loathing. Tailors, your country needs you!
Eva Wiseman is away Reported by guardian.co.uk 4 hours ago.
I find shopping on the high street hard work. I can't wear skinny jeans – the drainpipe look doesn't work with calf muscles. Trousers that fit my legs gape at the waist, or have what looks like the right-size waist, in a hypothetical sort of way since I can't get them past my knees.
My body shape is not unusual – small waist, hips, strong legs. I'm proud of it, in fact. I've learned which shops to avoid, and where there's a chance of finding things that fit. When it all goes pear-shaped, excuse the pun, I have a tailor-made version of a Hubert de Givenchy expression that boosts my morale. "Clothes should be made to fit our bodies, not our bodies made to fit the clothes."
The possibility of designing an entire bespoke wardrobe is one of the major attractions of life in Ghana. Here tailors do not exist on Savile Row or strut around fashion weeks with strange goatees. They are unassuming men and women who sit in shipping containers-cum-workshops on just about every road in every town, bent over sewing machines, making clothes that fit perfectly. I feel better dressed just at the sight of one of them, measuring tape round their neck. They offer heavenly promise of my own private collection, which I design, and for which I am the best, and only model.
Friends who visit me in Ghana from the UK have taken to bringing the precious fruit of their high-street trawls – the few outfits that fit and flatter them perfectly – and getting them copied here multiple times in different colours and different prints.
Much-loved purchases that didn't fit quite right, or which they planned to slim into but failed, can be taken in, taken up, taken out, or whatever else is necessary to make them look perfect. It's not just women – I had no idea so many men found it difficult to buy trousers that fit at the waist and don't cut off their blood circulation at the thighs. The same container-creators are capable of making surprisingly good suits.
To say this is cheaper than haute couture or a stylist is a huge understatement. It's so much less it could justify a plane ticket to Ghana. It is also significantly less annoying than watching Gok Wan or filling out "which garden fruit does my body resemble" questionnaires in magazines. It's the ultimate anti-Abercrombie & Fitch experience.
I'm convinced women's body image issues come with their clothes. Women in Europe and America might think they would look better if they were thinner, but that's just shorthand for thinking if they were thinner, they would look better in their clothes. I think of this with revelations of women starving themselves to reach size zero, fainting regularly and having a hospital bed for a second home when a drip becomes the essential diet accessory.
But if these issues inherently come from the clothes – then can they be exported with them, too? Second-hand European clothes are all the rage in West Africa now, which is almost like a UK high-street worst scenario. Never mind the fact that people in developed countries think they are donating clothes to charity, and not to some enterprising retailer in Ghana or Nigeria who is flogging them on the roadside. But for the women who buy them – as a cheaper alternative to getting their own clothes made – they are buying into cuts and sizes that were designed for completely different body shapes to theirs, that are used, and of which there is only one size to choose from.
The results are already showing. The curves – and Ghanaian woman are certainly curvy – that look so attractive in tailor-made and African costumes, quickly become a sea of pot bellies, muffin tops and over-spilling bosoms in European ones. I've started to notice young women patting their tummies ruefully as the contours appear through their clingy maxi-dresses. They are only one, tiny step away from feeling self-loathing. Tailors, your country needs you!
Eva Wiseman is away Reported by guardian.co.uk 4 hours ago.