Why is fashion so afraid of disabled models?

For all its overtures to self-expression, the fashion industry is perhaps less interested in beauty, and more interested in shielding itself from whatever it sees as ugly. Over the past couple of years, an increasingly diverse approach to casting has seen “curve”, POC, and trans models repositioned as figures of aspiration – but progress is rarely linear and the access afforded to some minority groups has only exacerbated the absence of others. Models with visible disabilities, for example, rarely appear on high-end runways, seemingly destined to make tokenistic appearances in lingerie line-ups. This isn’t to make trite comparisons between the unique set of prejudices that different groups of people face, but to stress how genuine, radical inclusivity must involve everyone. 

Fashion isn’t immune to the structures of our time and there are clearly objections to showcasing clothing on non-normative bodies. The idea that someone in a wheelchair might be as desirable as Bella Hadid threatens the kind of hegemonic beauty standards that were etched into our subconscious by the Greco-Romans. How can fashion act as a form of resistance when its obsession with the body beautiful shores up ableism? So entrenched are these beliefs, that even despite a combined spending power of over £274 billion in the UK – and making up 24 per cent of the population – disabled people only make up 0.02 per cent of those featured in its campaigns. “Brands are scared because it’s unfamiliar,” says model and artist Emily Barker. “It’s an inconvenience for them to think about access for runways and backstage spaces. We aren’t a priority.” 

“We always call it ‘the last taboo’,” says Laura Winson, the founder of Zebedee Talent, an agency representing models with disabilities and visible differences. “It is the last diverse characteristic that people think about when they're looking to be inclusive. Designers are getting better at size, race, and gender inclusivity, but disability continues to be at the bottom of the list.” During the SS23 edition of London Fashion Week, Winson’s team reached out to every brand on schedule but only managed to place four of its models in shows. “That’s the extent to who wants to be inclusive,” she adds. The barriers placed before disabled models aren’t just ideological, though – there are logistical and financial requirements that make an already resource-stretched designer reticent to put in extra work.

“Is there wheelchair access? Are the changing rooms big enough? Will an interpreter be there to help with communication?,” Wilson says. “I want to get it to the point where casting teams or clients treat access requirements like dietary requirements.” It’s something Barker knows well, having modelled in Sinéad O’Dwyer’s shows, where an invigorating cast of disabled, fat, and gender non-conforming models set a hopeful precedent for future fashion weeks. But, even then, it felt like an uphill battle. “Taxis in London refused to pick me up for 40 minutes because I use a wheelchair. I had to hide and Osob (the casting assistant) had to beg him to take us. At the venue, I waited for 30 minutes while the crew figured out how to get me inside and then I was verbally assaulted by someone using the disability stall for 10 mins after telling them I used a chair and very badly needed the restroom,” Barker says.

They were charged nearly £1,000 for a three-night stay in an “accessible” bedroom at The Standard hotel in London, which they say was nearly three times the price of a regular one. “It’s impossible to find places for wheelchair users to use in comfort, much less at any reasonable cost. The carpets were so plush, and the rooms so terribly designed, that I strained my shoulders and neck, giving me a migraine on the day of the show.” Because of this, Barker ended up staying in a cramped, inaccessible room, unable to close the bathroom door, use the shower, or get into bed. And yet, it was a sacrifice worth taking in order to work with a designer as unique as O’Dwyer. “I will not stop going to new places and taking on exciting gigs because of access and assholes,” Barker says. “I love doing runway shows and I love working with designers whose clothes and vision I believe in.”

At the forefront of a new generation of casting directors is Emma Matell, who collaborated with O’Dwyer on her fashion week debut. “It’s really about doing your research,” she says. “There are 14 million disabled people in the UK, it is the biggest minority. And if you’re a professional casting director, the research shouldn’t take very long. Why is it still widely accepted to run an 80-look show on one singular body type?” For her, the idea of “ethical casting” extends beyond the booking process, too, ensuring all pronouns are communicated to the wider team, checking who and who isn’t comfortable with showing skin, and prioritising transparency in every conversation. “It’s all a learning curve and I’m often in difficult situations, but I look for ways to make what is a very brutal process much more comfortable,” they add. “It’s more rewarding than it is difficult.” 

‘I lose out on making any money from gigs because wheelchair-accessible accommodations are expensive. I’m also not allowed to make money or I lose my SSI (Supplemental Security Income)’ – Emily Barker, artist and model

Though Matell can hold her clients to account, the success of a show will always fall on the designer’s shoulders – using unconventional models is all well and good, but does the clothing actually fit them? The rise of bigger-bodied models, for example, has seen a windfall of poorly-made mini skirts, stretch fabrics, and unshapely maxi dresses: making any attempt at diversity a tokenistic one. “Rather than try to fit the model in the clothes, Sinéad tries to fit the clothes to the model. That means taking measurements on every person coming for a casting and working with charts to understand proportions and how each garment is going to fit,” Matell explains. And when it comes to working with disabled models, designers need to exercise even more care and consideration. “Designers don’t understand that clothes fit differently on someone sitting in a wheelchair and so put us in unflattering garments,” Barker says.“I’m not very comfortable highlighting the atrophy caused by my disease – CRPS – and prefer clothes that are flattering to my figure. I want to look as hot as possible.”

“We were all made to feel so beautiful. My heart has been glowing ever since and I’m in complete awe,” says Naadirah Qazi, a musician and model who was previously made to feel “totally invisible in this industry, regardless of work ethic or ambition.” The decision to cast Qazi, a first-time model, feels more in line with the values of progress than inviting an already-established ambassador to appear in the show – much like Ahsley Graham, Andrea Pejic, or Aaron Philip, who has fronted Moschino and Collina Strada, inclusion tends to be spearheaded by a small rotation of radical figureheads. As necessary as these ambassadors are, they often end up closeted from the everyday lives of their community, insulated by wealth and celebrity. “I lose out on making any money from gigs because wheelchair-accessible accommodations are expensive,” Barker says. “I’m also not allowed to make money or I lose my SSI (Supplemental Security Income)” – an archaic programme that robs disabled people of health insurance, caregivers, and an already measly allowance should they take on “gainful activity”... including having children.

With so many disabled creatives living in a state of enforced poverty, access and inclusion cannot be divorced from austerity politics. “I hope my friends are able to make more and pay me without it being difficult soon, because I love them and their work,” they continue. “The priority for me is the experience.” Neither Barker, Qazi, or Matell believe that disabled people will make the same progress as other minority models at any point soon. Winson, however, remains hopeful. “I can only be positive about this. In the five years since we’ve launched, we’ve seen a 20-fold increase in the number of disabled models featured in advertising. With emerging designers – and us – pushing for inclusivity, there’s no way we can possibly go back.”