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The fashion industry is not only big business, but also a culture of its own. Like any other culture, ethical questions can be raised about its operation and maintenance. Models and fashion designers alike have sacrificed significantly – respectively, submitting themselves to a superficial world of criticism and denigration based upon outward appearance or spending years pounding the pavement with sketches in hand until they reach the top echelon that is fashion week. As models strut the catwalk, their thin frames and occasionally unhealthy lifestyle is exacerbated by the ethical theory of motivated blindness. Likewise, fashion designers are subject to the pitfall of bounded ethicality, relying on outside sources to decide the rights and wrongs of doing business. This pervasive misconduct has, for sometime, had many pondering the limits of business ethics.
Runway models are, literally, walking advertisements for a designer and his or her clothing. It is the prerogative, and should be the intention, of any good business to market its product to the best of its ability—and fashion is a big business. As a major stakeholder, fashion designers are entrenched in an ever-changing industry, fighting four times a year—with every new season—to keep their heads above water.
To play devil’s advocate, it is understandable why thin, living mannequins are better “suited” platforms for debuting the new season’s trends. Fashion houses aren’t selling the models, they are selling the clothing – the models are functionally just billboards for the products. Therefore, a seemingly translucent body-type fixes the attention directly on the product rather than the person donning the billboard. To give an example, a group of my male friends get together every year to view the “Victoria’s Secret” fashion show. Their self-admitted, and jokingly chauvinistic, purpose has absolutely nothing to do with the lingerie and apparel: it is, unsurprisingly, to see the models. Conversely, my friends’ rationale is exactly the opposite reason that high, haute couture fashion designers hope to attract an audience. Consequently, they opt for the painfully thin skeleton in high-heels in an effort to keep the focus on the clothes.
Runway models are, literally, walking advertisements for a designer and his or her clothing. It is the prerogative, and should be the intention, of any good business to market its product to the best of its ability—and fashion is a big business. As a major stakeholder, fashion designers are entrenched in an ever-changing industry, fighting four times a year—with every new season—to keep their heads above water.
To play devil’s advocate, it is understandable why thin, living mannequins are better “suited” platforms for debuting the new season’s trends. Fashion houses aren’t selling the models, they are selling the clothing – the models are functionally just billboards for the products. Therefore, a seemingly translucent body-type fixes the attention directly on the product rather than the person donning the billboard. To give an example, a group of my male friends get together every year to view the “Victoria’s Secret” fashion show. Their self-admitted, and jokingly chauvinistic, purpose has absolutely nothing to do with the lingerie and apparel: it is, unsurprisingly, to see the models. Conversely, my friends’ rationale is exactly the opposite reason that high, haute couture fashion designers hope to attract an audience. Consequently, they opt for the painfully thin skeleton in high-heels in an effort to keep the focus on the clothes.
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Despite the common assumption that the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (EEOC) protects against all forms of discrimination, Michigan is the only state that includes weight and height in its legal definition of equal employment opportunity. According to the Council on Size and Weight Discrimination, “Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 declares that all persons within the United States have a right to employment free from discrimination based on race, color, religion, sex, or national origin,” (CSWD, accessed April, 2014). The state of Michigan amended the federal version of Title VII in 1976 with, “[The] Elliot Larsen Civil Rights Act, Act 453 of 1976, Sec. 209, [which] bans discrimination in employment based on race, color, religion, national origin, age, sex, height, weight, or marital status. (Mich. Comp. Laws Ann. 37.2102 (1985 & Supp. 1993),” (CSWD, accessed April 2014). But, despite the legality,—and Michigan not exactly being the mecca of high fashion—there have been multiple lawsuits claiming discrimination on basis of body size. In an effort to avoid bad press, fashion houses, as well as modeling agencies, do not blatantly ask their models to lose a few—or 20—pounds. Instead, they request that you get more “toned” or imply termination if you are unable to meet the job requirement of fitting into the designer’s clothing, which happens to be a size 00.
This is where the ethical dilemma comes into play. Legally, these employers are doing nothing wrong. However, I am sure that they would disagree if they were on the opposite side of the conversation—and, I would love to see many of them try to fit a pair of pants, tailored for a small 12-year-old, over their left calf. Behavioral ethicist and author of Blind Spots, Max H. Bazerman describes this as “bounded ethicality.” Not all models are desperate and impressionable, but, as they ensconce themselves in the reality of “making it” to the cover of Vogue, I can assure you that many visions are clouded by the Swarovski crystal, rose-colored glasses of high fashion. As an important stakeholder in the world of design media and advertisement, runway models must pound the pavement to even have a chance at the posh publication of “W” magazine. Whether they intended to be or not, these young women serve as role models and archetypes of perfection for other young women who view their glossy photos splayed across Harper’s Bazaar.
This is where the ethical dilemma comes into play. Legally, these employers are doing nothing wrong. However, I am sure that they would disagree if they were on the opposite side of the conversation—and, I would love to see many of them try to fit a pair of pants, tailored for a small 12-year-old, over their left calf. Behavioral ethicist and author of Blind Spots, Max H. Bazerman describes this as “bounded ethicality.” Not all models are desperate and impressionable, but, as they ensconce themselves in the reality of “making it” to the cover of Vogue, I can assure you that many visions are clouded by the Swarovski crystal, rose-colored glasses of high fashion. As an important stakeholder in the world of design media and advertisement, runway models must pound the pavement to even have a chance at the posh publication of “W” magazine. Whether they intended to be or not, these young women serve as role models and archetypes of perfection for other young women who view their glossy photos splayed across Harper’s Bazaar.