Up to date week, Glamour magazine announced that it would be ditching its trademark handbag-size printing in favour of something bigger. Because, as publisher Condé Naste rephrased, it recognises “that the print experience is now regarded as more swanky and indulgent”. But it’s not just fashion magazines that are getting bigger, it’s iPhones, moons, coffee take the measure of and Trump’s plans for the US military.
Our post-venti scene is reflected on the catwalk, with “the new proportion” possibly being the outing aesthetic choice of this year. Wide-legged, oversize trousers and jackets (tolerant of the sartorial bastard children of Stop Making Sense-era David Byrne), such as Céline’s Phoebe Philo, comprise dominated the autumn/winter collections and crept on to the high way. Tangentially, “lampshading” has altered the regular silhouette too.
The inkling of supersize economics arrived in the 1960s, when David Wallerstein, the run of a Chicago movie theatre, realised that people intention happily buy one huge box of popcorn for a small extra charge when they wouldn’t buy two smaller buffets, because that way they didn’t feel greedy. Although Morgan Spurlock’s 2004 fade away Super Size Me killed off McDonalds’ extra-large option, the concept silence exists else in fashion, elsewhere in fast food and beyond.
This lean for bigger things could be seen as a modern version of the hemline sign. During the US Great Depression of the 1930s, suits got wider (believe: Al Capone’s double breasted jackets). Could the width of our kit outs and the size of things be linked to the fact we are currently living in the age of uncertainty where big tools are some sort of metaphorical safeguard against the unknown? It certainly take oneself to be sympathizes like that.