On an overcast day, among a crowd of Canberrans in stern greys and blacks, Kathleen O'Brien stands out on the Gungahlin street in her bright pink, pleated blouse, sharp blue jeans and knee-high, black leather boots.
Subscribe now for unlimited access.
or signup to continue reading
O'Brien is what you might call "plus-size"model, assuming that term doesn't make you horribly uncomfortable. It's one of many definitions forced upon people who don't fit into society's typical understanding of the world as portrayed by the unforgiving, high-resolution lens of television, magazines and billboard advertising.
"I feel like the term 'plus-size' is one of the more OK ones to call someone," she says.
"I don't like the words fat or overweight or obese because I feel like they're very derogatory."
Terms like "fat" and "plus-size" have undergone something of an overhaul in the world of fashion and (particularly women's) bodies.
Traditionally one of the worst schoolyard taunts, "fat" has largely been reclaimed by commentators hoping to strip it of its negative connotations, allowing them to simply be what they are.
In contrast, "plus-size", once the politically correct phrase for those delicately dancing around how to describe non-skinny bodies, has been stripped from some fashion lines amid accusations it "unfairly othered" women with what are extremely common body types.
"It's 2024 and people still have a lot of body image issues and body dysmorphia," O'Brien says.
Growing up, she says, models were all the same.
"You had to be a certain body size, very Miranda Kerr, Victoria's Secret skinny. Almost to the point where you couldn't eat. I'd seen a few catwalks and things like that, that's how I saw modelling. I never wanted to be a model in my later life, I wanted to be a librarian."
As someone with autism, ADHD and bipolar disorder, Kathleen is also acutely aware of how being called a "disability model" might send the wrong message.
"Most of the time I don't like the word disability. If we use the word 'neurodiverse' it makes people more understanding," she says.
Despite how she chooses to identify, Kathleen says marketing herself as a disability model was a deliberate choice in an effort to try and break down barriers people like her experience from being accepted into the fashion industry. She recently signed with Diversity Models, "Australia's first NDIS-registered provider modelling agency".
"I was scared that people would look upon me negatively, say 'because she's got a disability she won't be able to do this' or 'she's plus-size she can't do this, they're not going to take her on'," she says.
"But that's not what it's about - it's about breaking that barrier, about telling people that no matter what your size you can do anything."
March's Vogue Business size inclusivity report found only 0.8 per cent of models in Vogue-reviewed fashion shows in the 2024 autumn/winter season were in the plus-size category.
"There's also a huge amount of responsibility on curve supermodels to act as mouthpieces for size inclusivity ... [it] is overplayed as a topic in interviews, despite no meaningful change ever being made," the report read.
Diversity Models' co-founder Monique Jeremiah says the industry needs more pressure to include non-traditional models, be they plus-size, multicultural or have visible or invisible disabilities.
"Melbourne fashion week lacked diversity - I'm pretty sure there were no curve models," she says.
"We want to give people with disabilities the opportunity to be valued and appreciated and experience what other models have experienced."
For O'Brien, although she admits there's a long way to go before models like her can be truly accepted, it all boils down to a simple mantra:
"Don't be ashamed of your body, everyone goes through phases where we might not like our body but don't be ashamed," she says. "Embrace your body."
