Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: SUNDAY, September 12, 1993                   TAG: 9309100086
SECTION: EXTRA                    PAGE: 7   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: LAURA WILLIAMSON STAFF WRITER
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Medium

WHY SHOULD PETITES PAY MORE FOR LESS?

Not that I actually get suicidal over the ordeal. In fact, I'm more likely to turn homicidal. At just under 5 feet tall (5 feet short?) I'm not what most designers have in mind as they sit down at the drawing board to create.

My legs don't stretch up into the stratosphere like Naomi Campbell's (the long-legged babe in the Michael Jackson video). They are short - just like the rest of me - and a bit muscular.

Also, unlike Campbell and those luscious supermodel types, I eat. Three times a day. Sometimes, I even snack. Granted, I usually eat healthy foods, and I exercise regularly, but my waist, I'm afraid, does expand past 17 inches.

So I can't just slide into the stores and slither out in what's hot. And maybe that's a good thing. If I had a body like Christie Brinkley's, I'd be broke. I'd be a shopping mall queen. A shop-till-you-drop kinda gal.

As it is, I can't remember the last time I set out with a list of wardrobe must-haves. Somewhere around the time I graduated from the junior department, I think. (No, I cannot still shop in juniors. I have hips.)

I also have taste (don't argue). Which means I don't bother with most department stores' so-called petite departments, which, last time I checked, were chock full of polyester suits - as if every tiny woman yearns for herringbone and elastic waistbands.

Please. What galls me is that while designers may prefer to think of short women as three-headed animals, there are a lot of us creatures out here with three heads.

We're the ones looking disgustedly at pleated skirts that can't be shortened, taking our pants to the seamstress for hemming, or scratching our heads at fashions that require an extra yard or so between waist and knee so that we don't look like little girls playing dress-up.

Of course, we can always shop in those wonderful, elite little petite boutiques and pay twice the price for half the material. Those fashions can be pretty nice. I just don't see why I should have to pay more for growing less.

And then there are the designers who create entire lines for us close-to-the-ground dwellers. Problem is, they're still thinking model. Just because we're short doesn't mean we're SKINNY. We are vertically impaired, perhaps, but not developmentally stunted.

(For the record, I am about 105 pounds, give or take a brownie. And I refuse to fast to fit into some garment designed for a pint-sized Malibu Barbie.)

So I continue to pick my way through the racks, dropping heaps of rejects onto the dressing room floor. I've been known to buy an item in three colors just because it required no alterations.

I've also grown fond of the oversized look. You know, big men's shirts or baggy sweaters pulled over a pair of leggings, which I consider the best invention since the automatic coffee maker.

Which is why I intend to continue to use them as a staple until the stores stop selling them and the ones I have grow holes, regardless of what the rest of the fashion world is doing. I long ago stopped caring about what was in and what was out.

If I like it, it fits and it looks good, it's in. And it stays in until it wears out.

I am also intensely loyal to a particular store in Northern Virginia that consistently carries attractive clothing for us wee women.

That's something else the designers haven't caught onto. Tiny women can be terribly grateful customers. And our wallets are just as big as everyone else's.

\ Staff writer Laura Williamson once spent $300 on a dress - because it fit.