I bitch fairly regularly (perhaps more often via
Twitter than the blog) about the difficulties I have finding clothing that fits. For this problem I blame... everyone else. Yes, very political of me.
This photo was taken today, in the dressing room at a Ross (or possibly TJ Maxx or Marshall's -- they're interchangeable). It's me trying on a pair of linen pants, and the operative word there is "trying." As you can see, it's not going real well. Admittedly, I'm fairly unique amongst American men in not carrying around a spare tire, so I'm not surprised that clothing is no longer made to fit me, since it wouldn't fit 90% of the other guys my height. But it's still kind of annoying when I shop. And fail. These pants are an extreme example, but far from unusual.
What makes it funny is that they aren't even my size. They're too small for me! A "32/34 Medium" was what the tag said. (I forget the name, but they were some designer brand, and had an $89 suggested retail tag. Ross wanted $12.99 for them.) I wear 32 waist pants, or "large" when pants, such as elastic waist sweat pants, gym pants, etc, are sized in that nomenclature. Mediums are (used to be) better for my waist, but the legs are too short so they leave me
high waters'ed. And it's not that I'm freakishly sized; I'm about an inch under 6 feet, and fairly uniform in my proportions.
Furthermore, I've got plenty of pairs of "large" gym pants that fit fine. None of them were bought recently though, and it's looking like few will be bought in the future, unless I become pregnant. Que? Cause the "large" they make these days are about 6 inches bigger in the waist than they used to be. I tried on some polyester gym out pants at an Old Navy a few weeks ago, and the large were LOL-able. At least that's what the IG did when I paraded out of the dressing room to show her. I could wear them, since they had a drawstring, but they were just giganticly large in the waist; at least six inches bigger than I needed, and with the draw string pulled tight they were ridiculously bunched up and doubled over. And uncomfortable. The mediums of the same pants were also too large, but more reasonably. The legs were way too short, though. I didn't bother to try the smalls; they'd have been like
culottes on me.
Today's pants, featured in the above photo, were labeled (by the manufacturer) as a medium, 32/34. They were about medium in length, but were far, far larger than that in the waist. At least 38 or 40, judging by the fact that all of my other pants/shorts are 31 or 32 waist. (Not that those numbers mean anything absolute. The values are entirely relative, as I'll discuss in a moment.) Better yet, the store today had the exact same pants, make/color/etc, in "Small, 30/32." I tried those on and they fit even worse. The waist was only slightly too large, perhaps equivalent to a size 34, but they were about knee length, and fantastically tight on my thighs. I'm talking sausage casings.
I had a similar problem while shopping for jeans a few weeks ago, and I'm taking that to mean that I've done so much stepmill and rowing machine and elliptical and weight machines at the gym that my thighs are now considerably thicker than those of the average male. At least the average male with a waist anywhere near his actual skeletal structure. I'm not the girl in the photo, but the concept appears to be the same.
That curious, unintentionally-arrived at destination is making things even worse. Now the average pair of pants is way too big for my waist, too short for my legs, and too tight for my thighs. At this rate I'll have to embrace the Scottish heritage my last name hints at, and start wearing kilts. If only the
Clan Bruce tartan colors weren't that hideous, discount Xmas wrapping paper, color scheme.
The real amusement with male pants size is something I noted on this blog long ago, but don't care enough now to find a link to. (It's not like anyone would click it anyway.) It's that the inches listed for pants waists are nowhere near the actual measurement of said waist. I wear 31 or 32 inch pants. All different makes, brands, designs, etc. Yet my waist is actually around 36 inches, measured just now. I can go down to 35 if I squeeze. And yet 35 inch waist pants would fall off me like a hula hoop.
It's not some sort of error either; all my dress slacks and jeans state their size as 32 waist/32 inseam. The inseam is exact: I just measured it and it's 32 inches. So it's not like the garment industry has decided to add 4 or 6 inches to all pants measurements. Inseams can be verified by any carpenter's tool, while waists are understated by 4-6" as an industry standard.
I want to talk to a tailor about this some time. I know that for expensive clothes they actually measure you and make things to order. (I'd love that, if I could afford it.) But what do they tell their clients? If I'd never measured my own waist as part of my clothing size lies obsession, I'd think I had a 31 or 32" waist. That's what all my clothing says, after all. So if I told that to a tailor would he/she know to make me pants that were actually 36" at the waist? If that tailor measured me would he/she note the actual 36" waist, and then put a 32" tag into them, so I'd know what size pants to look for in a store if I wanted to replicate the fit?
This sort of secret inflation (which is epidemic with the even more arbitrary sizes of women's clothing) is, I think, to blame for the occasional starlet faux pas. Every few months some celebrity female balloons up, gets photographed in something unflattering (i.e. that shows her actual size, instead of camouflaging it), receives nasty gossip news coverage, and issues an indignant statement about how she's been a size 4 since high school and if that's too fat then America is unhealthily obsessed with weight, etc. (Which we clearly are, in a self-loathing sort of way, but that's another issue.)
What makes it so funny is that said female (I remember this happening with Jennifer Love Hewitt, Jessica Simpson, JLo, and Kim Kardashian in recent years.) is obviously at least a size 12 or 14, to the eyes of anyone who knows a woman who really is a size 2 or 4. I get to hug and eyeball the IG on a regular basis. She's tiny, weighs around 110 pounds, and wears size 2, or sometimes 0 (zero), from the petite section. Sometimes the girls section. You could put 2 of her into any pair of
Jessica Simpson's mom-jeans.
So yes, the claims of size 4ness from those women are absurd, but I don't think they're lying, anymore than I would have been if I'd told you I had a 32" waist. The difference is that I actually investigated, and measured, and looked at it objectively. If I (or you) were a rich celebrity living in a flattery-inflated bubble of self-absorption, with stylists and consultants and tailors bringing us our clothing, telling us we looked great, and putting "size 4" tags into our customized clothing, we'd think we were size 4s.
Or... maybe not.
I think people realize that they're steadily gaining weight, even if they're in clothing-assisted denial about it. Still being able to get into the same size pants (even if we know the listed size is probably bullshit) makes us feel good. So as the average male in the US steadily increases in girth, today's "large" drifts up to what was yesterday's XL, or XXL. The other sizes also increase proportionately, and everyone's happy. Clothing still sells, pudgy guys feel less pudgy, most clothing fits adequately, and it's only occasional contrarian workout freak (like me) who notices. Or cares. Mine is a lonely session of windmill tilting.
Labels: clothing
