Hey J.Crew, Why Don’t You Want My Plus-Size Money?

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To J.Crew, on the subject of the purple cocoon coat you stocked this season:

I have long been an admirer of your wares. Who doesn’t want pixie pants, jeweled sweaters, and to follow Jenna Lyons to the depths of every new season’s collection?

There’s just one little problem. It’s actually a big problem.

I am very fat. A size 24 fat. It’s fine. I don’t mind being fat on the whole. Sometimes I don’t fit on rides at Harry Potter World, which honestly works out for me because I hate roller coasters. (Note: I’m not going to do that thing where I assure you that even though I’m overweight, I’m perfectly healthy, because quite frankly, it’s none of your business.)

The worst part of being fat, in my absolutely-not-humble opinion, is that retailers like you, J.Crew, look at my money differently than they look at skinny-people money. You seem to think that my money is worth less because my ass takes up more space.

Which leads us to the Stadium-Cloth Cocoon Coat saga of 2017.

This coat is the perfect coat. I was browsing the internet, as one does, months ago. I saw it and nearly fell out of my chair. It is elegantly shapeless. It is wool. From Italy! Italian wool! It is purple. Not a deep, grape-y purple. A soft lilac. A pastel for the bleak mid-winter. They call it french purple. It is the kind of coat that says “I am basically a princess, I take baskets to sick neighbors, always have correct change for the toll road, and pick up stray pieces of litter in the parking lot, but don’t sleep on me because I will save the world in my french purple coat.” I loved it the second I laid eyes on it.

I saved the picture. I pinned it. I sent it to friends, saying “All I need in this dumpster fire of a world is this purple coat. I will pay any price. Wage any battle. I. Need. This. Coat.”

One problem. One tiny, impossible hiccup. The tyranny of you, my would-be-friend J.Crew, and of this beautiful purple coat, is that they stop at a size 16.

If you’re not plus-size, this may seem very reasonable indeed. A size 16 sounds large, especially if you’re #blessed enough to be a 4 or a 6 or whatnot. The average American woman is even a size 16, which means that on average, this coat should fit you.

But a lot of women aren’t a size 16 or below. They’re plus-size. Relegated to the small, cramped departments often hidden in the back of the store, somewhere near clearance housewares. Plus-size clothing is less plentiful, often less stylish, and usually boring. Do you need a winter coat in a size 24? It can be done. You may choose from black, gray, navy, and — if you’re lucky and find a retailer gone wild — camel or red.

This does not help my size 24 body and my heart’s affection for the perfect french purple cocoon coat. All I want to do is put it on and swoon around like a girl from one of your famous J.Crew catalog shoots, with slightly messy hair, perfect skin, and places to be. Besides, a cocoon coat is a sack! While women of size carry their fat in different places and different ways, I believe “elegantly roomy sack” can be sized up to accommodate a variety of bodies. You just don’t care to try. Because my money matters less than thin money.

Why don’t you want my money, J.Crew? It’s green and has the same value as that of a woman wearing a size 4 (although she and I both only made 77 cents on the dollar of the dude down the hall, whose pants aren’t even tailored properly). I work hard to earn it, answering emails from my boss at all hours and dutifully saving for retirement before I go shopping for purple coats. I have it in paper, plastic, PayPal, and would even figure out how to use Bitcoin if it meant you would sell me this coat.

I didn’t buy a new coat this year. My old camel coat will last me another season, like a comfortable ex-boyfriend you fall back in with when your new love breaks your heart irrevocably. Just love me back, J.Crew. I would be such a good girlfriend.

Please make plus sizes above a 16. I will sign over an entire paycheck to you on a monthly basis. Don’t you want my big, fat, green money?

Chubbily yours,

Dallas