Tommy Hilfiger makes clothes for kids with disabilities, thanks to a mom's dream

Say you have a child with a disability who has challenges using his fingers and hands. It's been a long haul helping him learn to feed himself, hold a cup, maneuver a toothbrush, grasp toys, turn lights on and off, use a TV remote control and twist doorknobs, among other manual tasks. Thanks to lots of practice and even more determination, your child can now do these things. Not with ease, but he manages. And yet, there is one key life skill that eludes him: dressing himself.

When your fingers don't do what you want them to do, buttons, snaps and even zippers can be tough to manipulate. Your child is frustrated by this lack of independence. Therapists at his school put fabric loops on sweatpants so he can pull them up and down, but have no suggestions for how he can put on his own shirts.

That child is my Max, who has cerebral palsy. And as of this week, he's gained some dressing independence because Tommy Hilfiger has launched a line of adaptive clothing, available on Tommy.com. It's the first designer adaptive clothing, and it's due to the efforts of fashion designer Mindy Scheier, founder of the nonprofit Runway of Dreams. Her muse: Her 11-year-old son, Oliver, who has a rare form of muscular dystrophy. Mindy and I have a connection through a program our children attend, Friendship Circle, and she brought over samples for Max to try.

Styles from the Tommy Hilfiger Adaptive Clothing collection

This is a Big Deal for children like Oliver and Max, their parents and the fashion industry in general. It's the first time a major clothing line, let alone a designer one, has created clothing for people with different abilities. The collection includes 22 pieces for boys (sizes 4-20) and girls (sizes 4-18); the tops, pants, jeans and dresses are adaptations of other styles on Tommy.com. They have magnetic closures instead of buttons, adjustable pant legs to fit foot braces and adjustable sleeves.

Based in Livingston, NJ, Mindy's designed for Bloomingdale's and Saks Fifth Avenue. Over the years, she's adapted clothing for Oliver. Her aha! moment came came when Oliver wanted to wear jeans to school like his friends were. Problem was, they wouldn't fit over his leg braces, plus the button and zipper wouldn't have been possible for him to manipulate by himself during bathroom breaks. "I didn't even have the words to tell him he couldn't wear jeans to school," she recalls. "It was very upsetting to me." But she did have the sewing skills. She altered jeans to fit his leg braces, then stopped at school during lunch hour to help him use the bathroom.

Mindy and Oliver Scheier

That's when Mindy decided there was no reason Oliver and kids like him couldn't wear whatever they wanted. She started Runway of Dreams in 2013, with the mission of working with the fashion industry to adapt mainstream clothing for the differently-abled. She spent her first year doing surveys and focus groups with parents and kids to assess the needs of the community. Besides cerebral palsy, having Down syndrome and autism can also affect fine-motor skills and the ability to fasten clothing.

Using clothes from Kohl's, Target and Wal-Mart, Mindy had samples made up with MagnaReady magnets as closures (founder Maura Horton has a husband with Parkinson's disease). She showed the clothes to Global Brands Group, which makes children's wear for Izod, Calvin Klein and Tommy Hilfiger. And that's how Runway of Dreams became a reality.

Mindy and Oliver on The View in May 2015

Given that nearly one in five people in the U.S. have a disability, according to the most recent U.S. Census Bureau data, it may be hard to believe that until now no big manufacturers have created adaptive clothing. But the truth is, often people just don't get it unless they know someone with a disability. "I've been in design my whole career and only after I had Oliver was I privy to issues I never knew existed," says Mindy. "It takes a big mouth to help the industry understand this is a community that has not been served." Perhaps Tommy Hilfiger gets that more than other designers would, given that both he and his second wife, Dee, each have children with autism, and Tommy has done a PSA for Autism Speaks.

The time is ripe, she continues: "With Lego coming out with a figure in a wheelchair to models with disability walking down the runway, our culture is ready for this to happen." Mindy even trained the Tommy Hilfiger customer service team, explaining how to talk about children with different abilities. "Everyone there is saying they've never been more proud to work with their company," she says.

Oliver participated in the shoot for the Tommy Hilfiger website, along with six other differently-abled kids. "He's just so excited to have other people wearing what he's been able to wear," she says. "When we were in the middle of the shoot, Oliver looks at me and says, 'You see, Mom—if I didn't have muscular dystrophy, we wouldn't be here!' I said, 'You're right!'"

Mindy's already designed two more collections for Tommy Hilfiger, who made a donation to Runway of Dreams. They're in discussion about expanding the clothing to retail stores, and creating a line for adults.

Tommy Hilfiger Adaptive Clothing is the same price as the brand's standard children's styles, something Scheier pushed for. "I didn't feel our community should have to pay more," she says.  "It's a huge testament to Tommy, he absorbed the extra costs—the cost of a magnet is significantly more than a button." Some parents won't be up for paying designer price tags (the cost of the red shirt is $29.50). But Mindy's just getting started, and is in talks with other brands and retailers. "My dream is that there's adaptive mainstream clothing for every person out there whether you're shopping at Walmart or Saks Fifth Avenue," she says. 

Max and I were both excited for him to put on the clothes. The jeans size we got was small at the waist for him, so he tried the snaps with the jeans off and could open and close them with some fiddling.

I knew Max wouldn't be able to slip his arms into the polo by himself, even though the fit and material were nice and loose, because he's not yet able to move his arms that way. But the magnets made it feasible for him to close the front. They're powerful, and are drawn to each other with just a nudge; as they connected, they made an encouraging "click!"



Maybe some people watching this will see a boy struggling to put on a shirt. Me, I see only success. This is the first time in Max's life he has closed a top by himself, and it was only his third attempt. I love how the adaptive shirt enabled him to do a task that's previously been impossible. It was one little click of a magnet, one big move toward independence.

Clothes like these will be a game-changer for our kids. Not only will they have more autonomy, they'll better fit in with their peers, given that the clothes have the usual cool, crisp Tommy style. As Mindy says, "When you put on something that you feel good in, it affects your confidence and self-esteem."

What Max had to say: "It works! Yeah!"

Images from Tommy.com: Richard Corman. Image of Mindy and son: Runway of Dreams

Free bikes and bike lessons for kids with special needs

AN AMAZING BIKE GIVEAWAY FOR KIDS WITH SPECIAL NEEDS

For the second year in a row, the Friendship Circle is hosting a Great Bike Giveaway for kids with special needs, and they've partnered with major adaptive bike companies. You choose which of the five bikes you'd like to enter to win for your child, from now through May 12, then get 50 friends and family members to nominate you. Five runner-ups will each receive a $500 Gift Registry from Tadpole Adaptive towards an adaptive bike. Awesome-ness!

BIKE LESSONS FOR KIDS WITH SPECIAL NEEDS

iCan Bike programs (formerly known as Lose The Training Wheels) are geared toward helping people with disabilities ages 8 and up learn to ride a two-wheeler. Kids can do bike camps, after-school programs and in-school programs around the U.S.

And in case you don't win a bike...
PROGRAMS THAT PROVIDE ADAPTIVE BIKES TO KIDS WITH SPECIAL NEEDS

National

Variety Kids on the Go! funds durable medical equipment for kids with physical challenges and financial need, including bikes along with wheelchairs, walkers, van lifts, house ramps, adaptive car seats and strollers. You apply through your local chapter of Variety The Children's Charity.

Athletes Helping Athletes has provided handcycles to more than 625 children with special needs since 2000; you can apply here.

By state

Connecticut 

The Freedom Program provides bikes to kids with special needs—145 to date!

Florida

Project Ride, through the Jewish Community Center in Boca Raton, Florida, gives new, modified adaptive bikes to kids ages 6 to 17.

Idaho

Bike For Kids is an Idaho fundraiser whose proceeds go toward providing adaptive bikes to kids with special needs; contact info for applying for a bike is here. 

Michigan

On Bike Day at Beaumont Children's Hospital in Michigan, 50 kids with special needs get custom-adapted bikes. 

Pennsylvania

The My Bike program by Variety the Children's Charity provides adaptive bikes to children with disabilities who live in the Southwest, Pennsylvania region.

GOOD ADAPTIVE BIKES FOR KIDS WITH SPECIAL NEEDS

For an outstanding list, see 20 Bikes, Trikes and Tandems For Children With Special Needs.

You know better than to be racist. So why are you disablist?

Imagine this:

You are Hispanic, black or Asian. You have a heart condition and need a heart transplant to live. You visit a Major Hospital and meet with A Major Cardiologist, and then you receive a letter in which the doctor has recommended against the transplant "given your ethnicity, the complexity of the process, multiple procedures and unpredictable effect of steroids on behavior."

Now imagine this:

You are watching the recent Comedy Central roast of Roseanne Barr. Wayne Brady turns to fellow comedian Jeff Ross and jokes, "A lot of people hate you, especially because you remind us all of what a Jewish person will look like when he's 40!"

Mind-boggling, right? What hospital would blatantly deny a person because of their ethnicity? Which comedian would crack a joke like that about a Jewish person? Sure, plenty of comedians are equal-opportunity offensive (as Wayne Brady has been), but good ones wouldn't jest that an entire ethnic group is ugly because it's just not funny.

Now know this:

Paul Corby is a 23-year-old with a defective heart and high-functioning autism. He lives in Pottsville, Pennyslvania, and applied for a transplant at the Hospital of the University of Pennyslvania, as reported in The Philadelphia Inquirer. Last June his mother, Karen, received a letter from a cardiologist there who recommended against Corby getting a heart transplant "given his psychiatric issues, autism, the complexity of the process, multiple procedures and unpredictable effect of steroids on behavior."

At the Comedy Central roast of Roseanne Barr, as seen here, Wayne Brady turned to comedian Jeff Ross and remarked, "A lot of people hate you, especially Sarah Palin because you remind her of what Trig is going to look like when he's 40!" Some audience members boo-ed.

That cardiologist saw nothing wrong with denying a person a chance to live, in part because of his special needs. That comedian thought it was amusing to slam an entire population of people, those who have Down syndrome. Both thought it was OK to discriminate against, or demean, people with disabilities—even though they most likely wouldn't have gone to the extremes they did based on a person's race or ethnicity.

Once again, I'm reeling from prejudice against people with special needs, and dreading what the future might hold for Max.

I'm not downplaying racial prejudice in America: Intolerance and hate still exist in too many people's hearts and heads (hel-lo, Ku Klux Klan rallies). What racism and disablism have in common is that both are about closed-mindedness and ignorance, and both are hurtful and painful. One major difference: Americans are largely aware of racial intolerance. It's an issue good people form groups about; our town has a community coalition on race. We teach our kids to be open-minded and accepting from a young age (well, hopefully we do). Even when people have racial prejudice, they may well know not to let it show. Not p.c.

The same can't be said of disabilities in public discourse and perception. Ableism, disablism, whatever you call it: It's out there, and it's blatant. People freely use the word "retard" as a joke or punchline, including otherwise "sophisticated" people I know (and some fight you on it when you explain why it's demeaning). In the year 2012, experts still consider disability one acceptable reason to deny a transplant (as also happened when a CHOP doctor advised against giving little Amelia Rivera a kidney transplant because she had "mental retardation," although the hospital eventually agreed to it). Last month, a group of Chicago suburbanites opposed to a group home for eight women with intellectual disability stood in the village chamber council and called the proposed tenants "retarded." They could harm kids in the neighborhood, some mused.

What I'm saying is: There is good awareness out there about respecting people of different races and ethnicities—and too little awareness about respecting people with different abilities. "Discrimination against disabled people is the last remaining equality issue to be addressed," noted commentary on a series of British ads (including the above) geared toward disability awareness. It's true here, too.

In July, Iowa Senator Tom Harkin, chair of the Health, Employment, Labor and Pensions committee, issued Unfinished Business, a report that noted disability employment has lagged over the last two decades, and that people with disabilities participate in the workforce at a rate that's half of any other group's, including women, African Americans and Latinos.

Harkin's call for the government and business to make hiring of disabled people a priority is heartening. Still: How are we going to convince business people that, yes, people with disabilities can be just as abled as anyone else in many ways—and just as valuable as anybody else? How are we going to convince doctors, those who laughingly call other people retarded, the strangers who stare at my son as if he were a freak of nature? How are we going to change perceptions of those with disabilities?

I do my best to help others quit focusing on Max's cerebral palsy and see the amazing kid he is. When friends use the word "retard," I tell them it's offensive. But that's me, Max's mom. The truth is, unless you have a child or adult with special needs in your family or circle of friends, or you work in the field of disability, or you read a shocking story in the news, this is most likely not stuff you ordinarily think or talk about with your kids, partner, friends, whoever.

Without that awareness, and more open and prolific discussion about treating people with special needs as equal members of society, kids and adults with special needs will continue to be punchlines and pitiful creatures. Doctors will continue to think that individuals with disabilities don't deserve transplants. People will continue to innately believe that those with disabilities are less worthy human beings.

Please, won't you keep the discussion going?

Update: Wayne Brady issued the following apology on his Facebook page on 8/17; I think it's a good one.

This letter has taken me a few days to compose because of the conflicting emotions that I'e experienced since the day of the Roast and its subsequent airing. The environment of the Roast is a comedic (hopefully), tasteless (mostly always) affair that encourages everyone to out-filth eah other. Not normally what I'm known for, right/ But when I was invited I jumped at the chance to play outside e of my perceived "norm" and have fun. The Jeff joke was written for me and at the end of the day I take full responsibility for saying it. It wasn't meant as a slam to Trig and at the time I didn't see it that way.

I could defend it as a performer, but I would rather apologize from the bottom of my heart as a father. I understand how a parent, who loves their child, who tries to nurture and shield them when they cannot defend themselves, would take offense.. I have many times experienced this feeling. I've had awful things said about my daughter.. Violent and most times racial stabs. Being in the spotlight I have built a thick skin to these sorts of things. My daughter ( who's now old enough to understand ) is another story. That being said I write this letter with sensitivity and a strong stance of responsibility for my actions.

I thank everyone who's expressed their opinion for reminding me that my voice is heard... It's easy to forget sometimes in front of cameras and lights.

To the Palins, please know that no malice or harm was meant. To the other families who were touched negatively, I hope you'll be able to accept this apology as well.

I've always said that people in the public eye should be held responsible for what you say and I'm no hypocrite. Thanks for reading and letting me express my side.

Take care all,

Wayne

A baby with Down syndrome is a swimsuit model: Yes, it's a Big Deal

Meet Valentina Guerrero, a 10-month-old from Miami who's modeling for the Dolores Cortés Kids USA swimwear catalogue. She even walked the runway (oh, OK, she got carried). Adorable, right? "People with Down syndrome are just as beautiful and deserve the same opportunities," designer Dolores Cortés told Adweek.

Meanwhile, there's been rumbling online about whether Valentina was chosen to be the face of the brand's kiddie ads because she has Down syndrome. The headline on the The Huffington Post's Facebook page:

Writer S.E. Smith at XOJane went off on Cortés for reportedly issuing a press release about Valentina and putting the tot on the runway. While progress is being made, this writer noted, she decried what she called companies' "persistent insistence upon being recognized for using disabled models" rather than "subtly integrating them into catalogs and advertisements and letting them be seen for who they are." She felt companies are trying to call attention to their "progressiveness."

Let's take a closer look at these claims:

The claim: Companies are "trumpeting" it when they feature kids with special needs in ads and demanding "praise and pats on the back."
Reality check! Target has cast kids with Down syndrome in ads for the last few years, including the adorable Ryan Langston. Word about this spread largely via social media. Target, if anything, has been remarkably closed-mouthed about Ryan.

Only after a Washington Post writer contacted Target about Ryan did the company issue a statement: "Target is committed to diversity and inclusion in every aspect of our business, including our advertising campaigns. Target has included people with disabilities in our advertising for many years and will continue to feature people that represent the diversity of communities across the country."

Nordstrom also featured Ryan, in its anniversary catalog. Again, the company didn't draw attention to it. Neither company seems to have demanded praise or props for their choice of models.

The claim: Companies are trying to prove they're "progressive" by featuring kids with special needs in ads.
Reality check! Well, yes, this is progressive—as hard as that is to believe in 2012. As much as parents of kids with disabilities may long to see them represented in the media (and generally get treated like other kids), the fact is very, very few children with special needs are featured in mainstream print ads and catalogs. And TV ads? Name one; I can't.

The claim: Companies are "exploiting" kids with Down syndrome.

Reality check! True, some companies are eager to have models and spokespeople who get them attention. But this isn't Snooki doing an ad for a weight-loss pill. This is a child worthy of being a model—beautiful, smiley, chuba-licious and anything you'd ever want in a baby swimsuit model. Valentina, Adweek notes, is the first child with Down syndrome to be the "main" model for a fashion company. Let's talk about a star being born, not "exploitation."  

The claim: It's wrong to announce that you have featured a child with Down syndrome, rather than "just subtly integrating them into catalogs and advertisements."

Reality check! OK, my first instinct also was it's wrong for a company to get all self-promotional about this. But then I thought it through, and I've decided that if a company chooses to make a big deal out of featuring a child with Down syndrome in their ads it can be a Good Thing. For one, it can help spark conversation about inclusion. Also, the more attention models like Valentina get, the more likely it is that other companies will join in—and the more it has a chance of becoming a "norm." We are so, so far away from that right now. 

The claim: "Once Valentina is no longer sufficiently cute, she'll be out of work." 
Reality check! Why the assumption that this beautiful child won't stay beautiful? Are only cutie-pie babies with Down syndrome model material, to this writer? Maybe Valentina will continue to land modeling contracts for her good looks, charm and popularity, if that's what her parents want. Maybe she will give Gisele a run for her money. Who knows what the future holds.

I want to see more, more, more kids with Down syndrome in ads. I want to see children with cerebral palsy, like Max, and other disabilities as well. If this becomes a trend then, yippppeeee! And if other companies rush to jump on that trend, well, how awesome would that be?  

Images: Thomas Bollinger Photography

On the road of special needs parenting

NOW

"Eeeyah yah ah eeeyah ah ah AH!" says Max.

I'm driving our minivan, and Max is babbling in the backseat. I listen, happily, occasionally peeking into the rearview mirror to watch. I am not sure what he's saying, but there's intonation there and he sounds like he is having the most awesome conversation with himself. He seems to love the sound of his voice.

I sure do; for years, I never thought I'd hear it.

THEN

Max is 18 months old and I am driving him to aquatic therapy, one of the 12 sessions of therapy he gets every week. My boss lets me work at home one day a week and on Friday mornings, Max and I head to the pool at a local children's hospital. He doesn't like it so much, but the warm water helps relax his stiff muscles.

"AH!" says Max from the back seat. "AH! AH!"

I am astounded. Max barely makes any sounds at all, none of that babbling I've heard from babies. The stroke he had at birth caused some serious brain damage. His brain is not like other kids'. That, I know. But I so want him to babble.

I am giddy. This could be the start of the babbling. He is so going to prove those NICU doctors wrong, especially the grim-faced geezer who told my husband and me that we could sign a Do Not Resuscitate if we wanted to.

For years afterward, Max doesn't make a single sound in the back seat.

NOW

"Max, do you want to get ice-cream later?" I ask from the front of the car.

"Eeeyah!" says Max. ["Yeah!"]

I think that perhaps "Eeeyah!" is one of the best words ever. It's Max's version of "YES!" and "HELL, YEAH!" He says it so enthusiastically every time and more importantly, he says it. He has, of course, also mastered "NO." He likes to say it emphatically: "Noooooooooo." It was Max's first word.

I never knew "No" could be such a welcome word.

THEN

I've just come from an appointment at a doctor's, and I have to pull over to the side of the road because my eyes are full of tears. I am tired. Tired of spending all my free time with therapists and doctors. Tired of the hopelessness and despair and thinking that my life will never be OK again. Tired of not getting to just enjoy my cute toddler with the chubby cheeks, bright eyes and big smile. Tired. I sob for a while, Max sleeping in the back seat as cars whiz by, and then I pull out and drive on.

NOW

"Arr wah!" says Max. We've just passed a car wash, one of his favorite activities in the whole wide world.

"You want to go to the car wash?" I ask, rhetorically. Because I know the answer.

"EEEYAH!" says Max.

"How many times do you want to go to the car wash?" I ask, again knowing the answer full well.

"Oooooh," says Max. Two.

I love talking with my boy. We go through the car wash twice.

THEN

Dave is driving and I am sitting in the backseat with Max. He's three. I'm reading that Dr. Seuss book Hop On Pop to him.

"Hop!" I say to Max. "Can you say 'hop?'"

Max looks at me.

"Ha," I say. "It sounds like that! Ha, ha, ha. Can you say 'Ha'?"

Max looks at me.

My heart slumps. Nothing's working—not all the speech therapy, the flash cards, the endless talking to him. The speech isn't coming. Not even sounds are coming. I put the book down on my lap and stare bleakly out the window.

NOW

I'm at home and Dave calls from the car, on speakerphone; he and Max are out running errands. I hear Max in the background, babbling. Dave and I talk, and he hangs up. Then he calls back.

"Max wants to say hello," he says.

"Ohmmmy!" I hear. "Ohmmmy!"

It is the most beautiful word ever.

If the doctors could have told me back when Max was a baby that at 9 years old he wouldn't be fully able to speak, I would have been out of my head with sadness. A 9-year-old who couldn't talk? A 9-year-old still babbling?  

Now, I am only grateful. I'm thrilled that Max has the desire to communicate, thankful for his progress and ebullient to hear him playing with sounds. No matter what lies down the road, I know he will be fine... and so will I.

This is exactly what I want to tell moms who are lost in the fog of grief: It will be OK. Whether your child talks as you consider talking or does it in his own way or doesn't, whether your child walks as you consider walking or does it in his own way or doesn't, whether your child learns as you consider learning or does it in his own way, you will both be OK.

No matter how much pain and despair you feel now, slowly but surely you will get to this place called "acceptance." Because as your child develops, your heart and mind will progress, too:

You will be less sad. Even though at times the hurt will still come your way, it won't be as intense as it once was.

You will quit peering into the rearview mirror of what-might-have-been.

You will stop constantly worrying about the delays and missed milestones and realize that kids with special needs travel at their own speed. There is no race.

You will stop freaking out about what lies ahead and learn to see the wonders of your child.

This is the road you will travel as the parent of a child with special needs. And things will get better as you go along. So much better.

That, I promise you.


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