Redheads Shouldn’t Wear Red (and other lies I was told) or Why I’m Still Mourning André Leon Talley

(Note: This piece was originally written over a year ago. But it became too hard to publish. This last summer a number of Mr. Talley’s personal posessions went on auction at Christie’s. I refreshed the pages repeatedly, hoping something would land in the range I could prefer, but year, not bloody likely. So instead, I am revisiting it.)

As a little person I am more often than not the only person like me in the room. And living in a society that is built for people at least a foot and a half taller than me, I am confronted by a world that at the same time it gawks at me, it puts physical structures in place to ensure I am set up for failure on daily basis.

In a stern, faux Suzanne Sugarbaker voice my aunt said “when are you going to learn, young lady, that redheads cannot wear red.” She scowled at me with her trademark scowl and clicked her nails (red) on the formica table at the Hillsdale Mall McDonalds. My aunt always had an opinion when it came to me, and it was usually not favorable. My hair was too long, my hair was too short, why was I a tomboy at 6, why were my jeans too tight at 15. When I came back from England she commented about how hard it would be for me to lose the weight I gained “given my malady” (how she would refer to my dwarfism) and while that was hardly the first time she commented on my body, it was the one that has stuck with me. I was so incredibly lucky, that my mother, the evil aunt’s younger sister, was the total opposite. She, like me, had dwarfism. And she loved her beautiful dwarf body and raised me to love mine.

When I walk into a room for the first time, people stop and stare. I’ve been in meetings where people assume my intern was the boss (me). I’ve head the words “is the circus in town” in the halls of power more than I could count. Talley talked about a staffer at Yves St. Laurent calling him “Queen Kong” and I can only imagine how that felt like an icepick to the chest.

As a kid with dwarfism, I didn’t see people like me in the media, or if I did they were elves or munchkins. I don’t think I saw an LP woman in a leading role until I was in my twenties and my dear friend Meredith Eaton was tearing it up on Boston Legal. But I was obsessed with fashion, and figuring out what I could wear, when sadly there was so much I couldn’t. As Mr. Talley wrote “At an early age I discovered the beauty in pictures in ‘Vogue’ magazine and Ebony magazine, and I would read ‘The New York Times.’ I had to make my own world within my world because I was an only child.”

I still own the first shirt I ever got tailored. It’s a green/black flannel from 1992. I bought in the Brass Plum department at Nordstrom and unlike you averages, it still fits. And I remember how incredible it felt to have something tailored just for me. No having to roll up the sleeves, or maneuver around the buttons, it just fit. And my world started changing.

My wedding dress was custom made by a dear friend who was the Costume Designer for Barney the purple dinosaur. My best friend actively advocated for me working with Margaret because, “we’ve all seen little people women wear dresses NOT designed for us, and they look all bulky and misshapen.” It was a brilliant appeal and I never felt as beautiful or strong as I did that day.

As a little person, finding a quality seamstress was one of the most important things I ever did. And I found one in my early college years. She was amazing. I will never forget her taking a dress that I saw in a magazine’s prom spread, but was only able to find it in a size 10, down to a size 2 for me. She used to laugh at the challenges I would give her, but I remember her joking with my mom one time that it was important that I move about the world looking like an adult, so people would respect me.

So I fell into fashion. I worked retail after college, for Victoria’s Secret, the most image conscious company in the world. Secret #1: easily 80% of our customers felt uncomfortable talking about what they really wanted, and I learned that “someone like me” made them feel less judged and therefore more willing to spend time, and money. Secret #2: Once you’ve become comfortable talking about lingerie, you can almost talk to anyone about anything. (It made me a better lobbyist than 90% of the folks I know.) And I worked my way into management.

I remember reading an interview by Mr. Talley where he talked about knowing how people talked about him behind his back, and I remember over the years reading about the gaslighting he encountered. How at the end of it all, people were always going to make sure you felt like people like you don’t belong there.

“I personally go to the airport looking like a homeless person, because I think people will leave me alone. But I dress myself with my luggage — all my luggage matches.”-ALT

I often dress in my anti-social armor at the airport. Being disabled and dealing with the TSA is always a nightmare. Even more annoying are the legions of tourists for whom my dwarfism is simply a spectacle. It could be that people like me in their country were institutionalized, or were only seen in exploitative sideshows or circuses, they were obsessed with the embarassing reality shows, or are just plain rude. My typical uniform is a hoodie, a hat, big sunglasses, and big pink headphones so people won’t talk to me and even with that there is not a trip I’ve taken where I haven’t caught someone filming me, following me, or been subjected to offensive remarks.

“Even then, if there’s one key takeaway from The Gospel According to André, it’s that being a black face in a high place isn’t enough — things need to be changed, for the better.”-Shamarra Lawrence

Change is far from easy, and while companies often are the first to “act” hurt-no one wears the scars more than the people fighting to make a work place better.

I have never worked in a job where I have not been on the recieving end of discrimination and ableism.

I have never been a job where I have not had to play the Cassandra role, warning of the impending fall of Troy.

Like most disabled people, there have been times I have been told that I am not a “team player” if I point out discriminatory language.

So how do we do it? How do we combat the mean Aunties, the biased HR staff, the asshole tourists of the world?

For me, it’s Chanel Rouge Coco 470, Marthe.