With Fashion Month just around the corner, the industry’s gaze sharpens on questions of representation, inclusivity, and innovation. The runway is more than simply a stage for clothes—it is where the hierarchy of visibility is set, where trends are established, and where the boundaries of beauty are drawn. But Topshop’s recent relaunch prompts a harder reflection: if one of the most iconic British brands has already missed the moment on size-inclusivity and sustainability, can we expect more from the industry at large?
In the 2000s, Topshop was the epicentre of high-street cool; the place where every teenage girl was supposed to go to define her look, her identity, and to a wider extent, her belonging. But as a size UK 18-20 teenager, walking through those doors filled me with a sense of shame and resentment. I—as well as scores of women across the country who also existed in bigger bodies—realised early that their clothing rails weren’t built for bodies like ours. The message was clear: fashion was for thin girls only.
A party at Topshop Oxford Circus in 2004
(Image credit: Getty Images)
This wasn’t just about one brand, though—it was a cultural moment obsessed with thinness. It was the era of size-zero celebrities, low-rise jeans that demanded flat abs, and glossy magazines that praised starvation as discipline. Topshop didn’t just mirror that culture; it amplified it by building its empire on the exclusion of fat bodies. By refusing to extend their sizing, it turned exclusion into something of a mainstream policy. By extension, it taught a generation of girls that desirability had a dress size—and mine wasn’t it.
Shopping trips with my friends, which should have been moments of fun and self-expression, instead became painful reminders that I was the “other”. I wasn’t allowed to participate in the trends or the rituals of teenage girlhood that Topshop sold so effectively. By refusing to put fat bodies in their clothes, Topshop preserved thinness as the ultimate currency of desirability. In a way, it seemed as if a whole generation of girls grew up believing that fashion wasn’t a playground for self-expression; it was a test of worthiness. And if you didn’t fit their sizes, you failed before you even tried.
Kate and Lottie Moss at a Topshop show in in 2014
(Image credit: Getty Images)
Topshop’s downfall came in 2020, when years of declining sales, rising competition from online fast-fashion giants like ASOS and Zara, and the collapse of its parent company Arcadia pushed it into administration. The brand that once defined high-street cool had failed to evolve with the digital shopping era—or with the cultural shift toward inclusivity. Its glossy relaunch under ASOS in 2021 promised a new beginning, however: the brand announced a surprise sizing extension, offering its clothing across the Petite, Tall, Maternity and Plus Size edits on the website, integrating sizes up to a UK 26 at one point.
The size extension was met with understandable caution from the plus-size community—myself included—but it also signalled the possibility of progress rather than just damage control; a nod to inclusivity after years of exclusion. And yet, the demand was undeniable: Topshop’s Curve and Plus offerings on ASOS sold quickly and often sold out—proof that fat customers had always been there, ready to buy.
At the same time, a lack of transparency about fabrics and sustainable practices suggested the brand may not have been interested in evolving beyond its fast-fashion legacy. Both audiences—plus-size and climate-conscious consumers—were left questioning whether this was truly progress, or simply a distraction.
Topshop’s Autumn/Winter 2025 show
(Image credit: Getty Images)
Earlier this summer—on August 16th, 2025—Topshop staged its first runway show in seven years, fronted by model Cara Delevingne, to mark its return to the high street and a concession at Liberty London. The announcement tapped into a deep vein of nostalgia— the thrill at the thought that Topshop might finally evolve into something greater. A truly forward-looking comeback could have meant embracing body inclusivity, working with sustainable fabrics and speaking directly to the generation that once made the brand a fixture of their wardrobes. With Raey’s recent exit leaving a gap in the market, the opportunity was there; the risk of course, was that Topshop could choose familiarity over progress.
The spectacle was met with an overwhelmingly warm reception, a reminder of the brand’s cultural cachet. However, not only did the show only feature straight-sized models, but the revamped website revealed that its new collections would only go up to a UK 18, once again shutting out its plus-size audience, despite its efforts to provide plus-size clothing just a year earlier. Equally absent was any commitment to sustainable practices: no fabric transparency, no environmental pledges, no sign that the brand had reckoned with the role of fast fashion in climate collapse. Topshop may have re-entered the spotlight, but it did so by repeating the same mistakes.
Alva Claire, Cara Delevingne and Adwoa Aboah at Topshop’s recent AW25 show
(Image credit: courtesy topshop)
“Topshop’s relaunch and their decision is hurtful yet unsurprising—but it’s also reflective of the ongoing trend of high street brands not catering to the plus-size fashion market, with the likes of H&M and River Island also pulling back their offerings.” says Hannah Ogilvie-Young, plus-size fashion influencer and host of the Fats on Film podcast. “It makes me feel like my body isn’t good enough to wear their label. My money is not worth Topshop’s time and effort to obtain. Back in their prime they were the ‘It girl’ high-street brand and of course in their eyes ‘it girls; can’t be fat. If they wanted to cater to plus sizes, they 100% have the means to do so. It is a choice that they don’t; a signal that they do not want plus size bodies associated with their brand.”
Hannah’s critique mirrors a broader frustration within the plus-size community. In a country where the average woman wears a UK 16, Topshop’s deliberate exclusion of larger sizes wasn’t just tone-deaf, but a stunning misstep in business logic, shutting out a vast and profitable audience in the name of maintaining an image of what they consider “cool”.
As of 2023, the UK plus-size women’s clothing market is valued at £738.4 million, and is projected to reach £1.2 billion by 2032, growing at a rate of 5.03% a year. This growth reflects a significant shift in consumer demand towards more inclusive and diverse fashion offerings. Meanwhile, the conversation around sustainability continues to accelerate, with younger consumers increasingly unwilling to support brands that don’t align with their environmental values. Both shifts point to the same reality: inclusivity and sustainability aren’t optional extras, they’re essential to survival.
Despite the high demand for trendy plus-size clothing, we continue to see the recession in fashion labels either reducing their plus size offerings, or—like Topshop—taking their plus-size offerings off the shelves completely. At the same time, sustainability is often limited to token capsule collections or marketing campaigns, with little structural change in how clothes are produced.
Topshop’s London flagship in 2011
(Image credit: TonyBaggett via Getty Images)
As Fashion Month begins, the industry continues to pat itself on the back for incremental progress while sidestepping systemic reform. “I think some brands believe that people don’t want to invest in fashion because they think we must all be on diets—but that just not a lot of plus size people’s mindsets at all,” continues Hannah. “We love our bodies, we love ourselves and we want to express our personality through fashionable clothing. We want to invest in us. But brands don’t allow us the opportunity to do so. We are consistently disregarded and are not seen as worthy, fashionable and valuable consumers.”
Topshop and other high-street brands can no longer ignore plus-size shoppers—or the urgent need for more sustainable practices. Both markets are growing, the demand has been proven, and the desire to engage with fashion should not be overlooked. The future of fashion should be about visibility, responsibility, and style without compromise.
For me, the question is simple: will brands finally value the customers—and the planet—they’ve long dismissed, or will they keep turning away the very people who could keep them in business? Only time will tell.