Why the fashion industry is still in love with size zero

It takes a lot to upset the fashion industry. Those diehard denizens of the front row have witnessed plenty of shock tactics over the years, from the deliberate (Alexander McQueen’s “bumster” trousers) to the accidental (a male model’s genitalia falling out of a dress at a Rick Owens show). 

But, in recent months, the international fashion press have been shocked in a manner that is far less easy to shrug off as soon as the designers have taken their bows. The reason for their horror: too many models that looked close to starvation, their hollow cheeks and jutting bones casting a pall over an event that is supposed to compel rather than repel.

After Gucci’s show in Milan on Friday, Lisa Armstrong, Head of Fashion at the Telegraph, accused the label of fetishising “the look of lean, desperate sex workers for contemporary consumers”.

Earlier in the season during New York Fashion Week, the New York Times critic Vanessa Friedman took to Twitter to say that she was “distracted by the extreme skinniness of many of the models in Jason Wu’s show”, adding later that Wu was by no means the only designer on her radar.

The campaign group “Including the Curve”, which tracks how many plus-size models are cast during each round of fashion weeks, has so far found that during London Fashion Week earlier this month, just 71 jobs out of the 2,640 on offer for catwalk models went to women who were plus-size. 

While the return of mini skirts might be a trend that divides opinion, the return of ultra-skinny size-zero models is one that nobody wants to see again. Not since the 1990s, when “heroin chic” was the prevailing aesthetic, have models looked so thin and unwell.

“I literally shuddered,” recalls a British stylist who happened to be placed near one of the models at the most recent Balenciaga show in Paris in October 2022. “Close up, it was impossible not to notice how thin she was.” 

Why has the ultra-skinny model resurfaced again now? One theory is that the pandemic and the accompanying economic downturn have caused some fashion brands to court sales aggressively using familiar, tried and tested “shock” methods that have previously been successful. 

Another theory is that the problem never really went away: it was simply masked, for a time, by a trend for more diverse casting that shifted the focus from worryingly thin models to older, ethnically varied or curvier ones. 

How exactly fashion became so enthralled by the size zero look can been explained as a purely practical philosophy; it’s been said that clothes are more likely to “hang” well on slender people, as well as saving on fabric costs. Conversely, there is also our deep-seated societal obsession with youth – and nothing says adolescence like a flat chest and straight hips. 

In recent years, the industry has made considerable progress in correcting its terrible reputation for casting only very tall, very thin and very white models in its shows. After the Black Lives Matter protests of 2020, many designers made a concerted effort to cast more racially diverse models. 

In tandem came an increase in body diversity: according to a report by website The Fashion Spot, New York Fashion Week’s spring 2020 season featured 68 plus-size or “curve” models, while the previous season had featured only six.

That Paris, the birthplace of couture, is the city where models’ weight causes most consternation will come as no surprise to those familiar with the fashion industry. One British fashion editor says: “The models are always skinny at Saint Laurent, but [at their most recent September show] they took my breath away.”

A black Saint Laurent dress worn by the White Lotus star Jennifer Coolidge at Sunday night’s Screen Actors Guild awards, her décolletage gloriously front and centre, was originally shown on a model lit to accentuate her clavicle and make her cheekbones look gaunt. 

Over the years, several initiatives have tried and failed to regulate the use of extremely thin models. In 2016, the Women’s Equality Party launched a campaign demanding that British designers and retailers stop using size zero clothes, with the aim of tackling eating disorders. In 2017, France passed a law forbidding the use of “unhealthily thin” models that required them to provide a doctor’s certificate attesting to their physical health. 

Anorexia nervosa carries the highest mortality rate of all mental illnesses. And while it would be irresponsible and erroneous to suggest that ultra-thin models cause eating disorders, they are part of a tsunami of other factors that do.

“Eating disorders are an expression of unhappiness and self-loathing from the sufferer,” says the author and fashion journalist Hadley Freeman, whose book, Good Girls: A Story and Study of Anorexia will be published in April. 

“In the case of anorexia, this invariably begins around adolescence, which suggests that it is a reflection of the extreme anxiety many girls feel about growing up and becoming women. All girls in the West will have grown up with the message that thinness equates to happiness.” 

Stories abound of models who were told to lose weight, either by their agencies or by designers whose castings they were turned away from for being too “fat”. Fashion’s rekindled love affair with ultra-thin models couldn’t have come at a worse time. 

According to Beat, the UK eating disorder charity, an estimated 1.25 million people in the UK currently suffer from eating disorders. Post-pandemic, the NHS and eating disorder charities report being overwhelmed. Between 2021 and 2022, Beat says it provided more than 127,705 support sessions via helplines and online chats, an increase of over 300 per cent in comparison to pre-pandemic levels.  

Wonderful as it would be never to see an ultra-thin model on a catwalk or in an advertisement again, it’s unlikely to happen. The incentive to change isn’t there. If the fashion industry won’t reeducate itself, the alternative is to reeducate young people. 

Amie Witton-Wallace, who was Alexander McQueen’s communications director for twelve years (1995 - 2007) and who held the same role at Beyonce’s label, Ivy Park, believes that the issue needs to be looked at through a different lens. “I’ve always been protective over the models I’ve worked with, and have seen a lot of heartbreaking tales. If you work in fashion, you have to have a personal responsibility to look out for the signs and support these young people. Sadly, not everyone does.” Witton-Wallace now runs Graphi, a brand creating oversized sportswear which encourages young people to improve their mental and physical health through sport. 

Social media’s contribution to eating disorders is as serious as it is poorly understood. “Content on platforms such as TikTok can spread unattainable body ideals through posts that encourage weight loss, go into detail about eating disorder behaviours, or show ‘before and after’ images,” notes Tom Quinn, a spokesman for Beat. 

More than 9.5 million viewers have watched videos labelled “size zero” on TikTok, with videos on “buccal fat removal” attracting 260 million. “Whilst a person wouldn’t develop an eating disorder simply by watching videos online, harmful content can contribute to an eating disorder developing for the first time, or worsen harmful thoughts and behaviours for someone who is already unwell,” says Quinn.

The same can be said of seeing ultra-thin models on the catwalk. However much those affected by eating disorders would wish otherwise, “harmful content” is extremely hard to avoid. For as long as people equate thinness with happiness, this is unlikely to change.

Beat encourages anyone who is worried about their health to contact their GP.