Recently I went out to buy a new pair of jeans. I found a nice pair in my size but when I tried them on, the legs were too tight and the waist too big.
Put on another brand. This time the 10 was way too large; the 8 had a waist that would accommodate a wine barrel. The 6 came closer to fitting, but was about 6 inches too long.
I walked out of there wondering why, oh why, don’t clothing sizes make sense?
The Federal government did take a stab at it back in the early 1940s. Before that, as far back as the Revolutionary War, men’s clothes had been sized based on a single measurement, the chest. Military uniforms were standardized under the assumption that if you knew a man’s chest size, you could figure out pretty much how the rest of his body was going to be proportioned.
So in the early 20th century, when women’s clothing began to be mass produced, women’s sizes were based exclusively on one measurement: the bust. But, as we all know, not all women’s busts are equal. Some large women have small breasts, and some small women come with very large ones. Bust measurements obviously were not a good indicator of the rest of a woman’s proportions.
By the late 1930s, annoyed that so much of their merchandise was being returned because of poor fit, the Mail Order Association of America appealed to the government to set up national standards for sizing.
The Feds came up with a new scheme based primarily on height and weight. The fatal flaw of that effort was women were reluctant to reveal their weight when they went shopping. The Bureau of Standard eventually devised another system that added bust size, but assumed all women had hourglass figures. And it didn’t help that the data used by the government to create standardized sizes was based only on the measurements of white women. Women of color who came in were measured, but their measurements were discarded.
It took until 1958 for a national standard to be put into effect. At first the industry was enthusiastic, especially mail order companies like Sears and Montgomery Ward. But the steady flow of returns continued unabated and soon they were calling for the government to get out of the clothing business.
Today there’s a voluntary industry standard which is mostly ignored. Sizing numbers have evolved over time to accommodate a very real trend….women are getting larger. Most women would rather not think about their actual size, so manufacturers re-label bigger sizes with smaller numbers. A size 8 now is the rough equivalent of what a size 14 or 16 was in 1958.
More expensive brands often offer larger versions of a given size. For example, the Gap’s three brands, the namesake Gap, Banana Republic, and Old Navy have different sizing. A size 8 hip in the low end brand equals a size 2 in the most expensive.
It appears some women are willing to pay whatever it takes to get their size 8 bodies into a pant labeled size 2.
“Everybody who shops knows you have to try things on to see if they fit," one researcher notes. "But it's a thrill whenever you get into a smaller size number. I know people who have bought things that didn't fit because they were the right number. And I know people who won't buy something if the number is too big, even when the fit is perfect."
It’s not only that women are getting heftier—they’re also changing their shapes in other ways. Implants, body contouring, and various other additions and subtractions have radically changed the potential for how well clothing fits. To deal with this, Victoria’s Secrets has modified some items in its underwear line to take into account the various configurations of customized bodies.
As much as women would like to blame manufacturers, they aren’t entirely at fault. It’s true that sizing has traditionally not been based on the actual figure types of women, but it also has a lot to do with the feedback that manufacturers receive from salespeople in stores. If smaller sizes sell better than larger ones, that’s what women are going to find, even if the fit is iffy and the label size is ridiculously small compared to the amount of fabric in the garment.
There’s also the issue of brand loyalty. A woman who identifies herself as a Calvin Klein kind of woman wants a different fit than the gal who thinks of herself as a Chico’s girl. Fit is a type of identity. Flowing, structured, tight or baggy…the fit of the garment helps tell the world who we are.
In a country so diverse it may be impossible to define any national average body. The most we can probably hope for is our favorite brands to remain cut the same way they have in the past.
But don’t count on it.
Put on another brand. This time the 10 was way too large; the 8 had a waist that would accommodate a wine barrel. The 6 came closer to fitting, but was about 6 inches too long.
I walked out of there wondering why, oh why, don’t clothing sizes make sense?
The Federal government did take a stab at it back in the early 1940s. Before that, as far back as the Revolutionary War, men’s clothes had been sized based on a single measurement, the chest. Military uniforms were standardized under the assumption that if you knew a man’s chest size, you could figure out pretty much how the rest of his body was going to be proportioned.
So in the early 20th century, when women’s clothing began to be mass produced, women’s sizes were based exclusively on one measurement: the bust. But, as we all know, not all women’s busts are equal. Some large women have small breasts, and some small women come with very large ones. Bust measurements obviously were not a good indicator of the rest of a woman’s proportions.
By the late 1930s, annoyed that so much of their merchandise was being returned because of poor fit, the Mail Order Association of America appealed to the government to set up national standards for sizing.
The Feds came up with a new scheme based primarily on height and weight. The fatal flaw of that effort was women were reluctant to reveal their weight when they went shopping. The Bureau of Standard eventually devised another system that added bust size, but assumed all women had hourglass figures. And it didn’t help that the data used by the government to create standardized sizes was based only on the measurements of white women. Women of color who came in were measured, but their measurements were discarded.
It took until 1958 for a national standard to be put into effect. At first the industry was enthusiastic, especially mail order companies like Sears and Montgomery Ward. But the steady flow of returns continued unabated and soon they were calling for the government to get out of the clothing business.
Today there’s a voluntary industry standard which is mostly ignored. Sizing numbers have evolved over time to accommodate a very real trend….women are getting larger. Most women would rather not think about their actual size, so manufacturers re-label bigger sizes with smaller numbers. A size 8 now is the rough equivalent of what a size 14 or 16 was in 1958.
More expensive brands often offer larger versions of a given size. For example, the Gap’s three brands, the namesake Gap, Banana Republic, and Old Navy have different sizing. A size 8 hip in the low end brand equals a size 2 in the most expensive.
It appears some women are willing to pay whatever it takes to get their size 8 bodies into a pant labeled size 2.
“Everybody who shops knows you have to try things on to see if they fit," one researcher notes. "But it's a thrill whenever you get into a smaller size number. I know people who have bought things that didn't fit because they were the right number. And I know people who won't buy something if the number is too big, even when the fit is perfect."
It’s not only that women are getting heftier—they’re also changing their shapes in other ways. Implants, body contouring, and various other additions and subtractions have radically changed the potential for how well clothing fits. To deal with this, Victoria’s Secrets has modified some items in its underwear line to take into account the various configurations of customized bodies.
As much as women would like to blame manufacturers, they aren’t entirely at fault. It’s true that sizing has traditionally not been based on the actual figure types of women, but it also has a lot to do with the feedback that manufacturers receive from salespeople in stores. If smaller sizes sell better than larger ones, that’s what women are going to find, even if the fit is iffy and the label size is ridiculously small compared to the amount of fabric in the garment.
There’s also the issue of brand loyalty. A woman who identifies herself as a Calvin Klein kind of woman wants a different fit than the gal who thinks of herself as a Chico’s girl. Fit is a type of identity. Flowing, structured, tight or baggy…the fit of the garment helps tell the world who we are.
In a country so diverse it may be impossible to define any national average body. The most we can probably hope for is our favorite brands to remain cut the same way they have in the past.
But don’t count on it.