Do Black Women Shop at Zara?

I didn’t get into clothing and fashion until a few years ago. I hated the stereotype that all women love to shop because shopping only made me impatient, frustrated, or bored. Most of my college days were spent in jeans and comfy sweaters. It wasn’t until I needed to start building a professional wardrobe that I became interested in trying out new styles. I needed to figure out what types of clothes I liked, and most importantly, on a budget, so I began researching fashion blogs to figure out which stores to start with. One store that jumped out immediately was Zara. I noticed many bloggers with an affinity for the brand, yet I had never stepped into one of its stores despite there being several in New York City. “I probably thought it was more expensive than it is,” I thought to myself, and then proceeded to check the store out one Saturday afternoon. I found a red blazer with silver buttons – pretty, but I had nothing to go with it, and I could probably find something similar at Macys. As I perused, I noted the styles: a bunch of plain dresses I found boring, and boxy midriff shirts made for no one with curves or boobs. I did find a few skirts I liked, but at this point I began paying more attention to the women shopping throughout the store than to the clothes on the racks. A young Asian woman with a Prada handbag was looking at a white blouse. A group of blondes in their early thirties went back and forth over how much they liked a navy dress.  But there wasn’t a single African-American in the store: I was the only one. I left the store empty-handed.

via Flickr under Creative Commons.

Trips back to Zara have often been similar – I might spot one other black woman browsing, or waiting on line for the fitting room to try on a piece. Friends – white and non-white – pointed out that while Zara might be affordable for a woman with an established career, it’s not as affordable, as, say, Forever 21 or H&M. For women making less money (the average black woman earns $120 less a week than white women do), these options are more budget-friendly. But the particular reason why I don’t often find black women shopping at Zara might be because of its sizing. I’m a size 12 or 14 depending on the brand, which according to some definitions, is right on the border of plus-size. In many brands, I’m a size large – but at Zara, which uses measurements from Spain, a size large fits closer to a U.S. medium. That means I can only fit an XL at Zara, and many of their styles don’t even come in the size. And unlike Forever 21 and H&M, which carry plus sizes, Zara does not. Black women disproportionately are overweight – 82 percent compared to 63 percent of white women, while over half of black women are obese, compared to 32 percent of white women. So any time a brand offers just a few pieces from their catalogue in plus sizes or stores cease carrying plus size options, black women are the ones most affected. And when you combine that with the fact that black women are more likely to be on a tighter budget, it really does seem like there are few options.

I still don’t own any pieces from Zara. I might browse the store from time to time, and find a piece that catches my eye. I check its label, to see if it comes in my size. The moment of truth. “Crap,” I think, “it doesn’t come in anything bigger than a size large.” A wave of disappointment floods me as I leave the store. But it won’t last long. I won’t let it, because I’m heading to Macys.