The Crisis of Jean Sizing
A rant about inconsistent pant sizing
IlIllustration: Sydney Hanson
When my girlfriends and I are looking for something to do, we tend to default to shopping. We usually don’t need anything, but we are ready and excited to spend money on overpriced clothing. However, I know that if I want to stay in a good mood, chances are, I should not try on pants. Why? Because of the horror that is the pant sizing system.
The numerical waist size on a pair of jeans (ex. W26) is supposed to represent your waist measurement in inches. However, I wear a different size of jeans from every brand I shop from. If I shop for a pair of shorts at Lululemon, I know to grab at least a couple sizes of the same shorts because I know I cannot rely on my usual size fitting correctly. This begs the question; what sizing system are brands truly using?
If we focus on jeans specifically, we know some styles are meant to be baggy and others slim fit. You may size down in a baggier style of pants or size up in a slim fit. Jeans may struggle to fit over thighs, but they have inches of gaping material in the waist. And this is a common, infamous experience when it comes to trying on jeans; sizing is not consistent. I shouldn't have to go up three sizes when I try on jeans at ZARA because I can't get them over my thighs. Despite the effort I put into treating my body with respect, I always have a moment of stress when I can't fit into “my size.” It's a toxic trait. To instantly approach my body with the thought of anger for not fitting into a pair of jeans that “should” fit. However, it is clear that the sizing metric is bullshit. Getting a new size should not feel like a negative thing. Why do I let it bring me down?
There are tips and tricks to this unfortunate situation. You will not catch me trying on pants at Aritzia by myself, infamous for not including mirrors in their dressing rooms, but rather, you must leave your dressing room where strangers can judge you while you simultaneously judge yourself. It sucks. However, I will try on pants at Aritzia when I am with my girlfriends. We get angry and frustrated by the inconsistent sizing. It is a bonding experience. Shitty sizing makes for caring less about the numerical value that has been almost ingrained into our minds to be significant. It’s annoying to have inconsistent sizing, but the number does not define me.
It is not an exaggeration to say that I love to shop. My childhood was filled with my grandmother treating me to excursions to Winners and Marshalls, where nine times out of ten, I left with a new item and a grand sense of excitement. As I’ve grown older, and I now spend my own money to buy things I have a small sense of self-control. Bad day? I deserve that 30-dollar lip product. Bored? Might as well browse for stuff online. With that, it is not hard for me to commit to buying something. Maybe it is a blessing in disguise that pants are so inconsistent with sizing, so at least I make returns.
It is a constant battle to build and maintain strong self-confidence. We are constantly preaching “Don't compare yourselves to others,” yet every corner of the media, and clothing companies, force an unhealthy body image on us. As this rant stems from a place of shopping for clothes marketed for women, I do not have the perspective to speak from a male point of view. However, I can assume they probably don't have much luck either. Thus, I think for the indefinite future I will always have low expectations when bottoms are on my shopping list. Despite how shitty inconsistent sizing can, unfortunately, make me feel (even though it has no relevance to any point of my self-worth), I will always remember; these clothes are meant to fit me, and I am not made to fit into the clothes.