I Am Displeased

Being an alumna of a women’s college, there are any number of things in society that I can complain about.  Inequality is rampant, and I’ve been well trained to notice it.  This week, my greatest annoyance is with women’s clothing.

Don’t get me wrong: I love clothing.  There’s just something wonderful about finding that feels good, looks good, and makes me believe I can do anything, from the first moment I put it on.  The only problem is, this feeling is unjustly rare.  The industry seems to making it as hard as possible to find that perfect fit—in more ways than one.

Looks nice, right.  But wait...

Let’s start with sizing.  Why on earth isn’t there a universal sizing that all makers of apparel must use?  Some companies have numbers, but the same numbers between companies do not equal the same size.  I wear anything from 8 to 12 in pants.  Then there are those companies who use S, M, L, and from there add X’s as needed.  This is problematic because I am a small woman (5’0”), but I wear a DD cup, so I’m never sure whether to wear a small or a large.  Will the small be too tight?  Will the large look like a sack? 

While I’m on the subject of breasts, why is nearly every neckline I find low enough to be borderline inappropriate?  I have probably a dozen shirts that are scoop-necked, because most other shirts I find with more conservative necklines are hideous.  It often comes down to a choice between a cute shirt, or not having to worry every time I bend over. 

A few days ago, I was in a bit of a hurry, so I bought two new shirts without trying them on.  They were simple business shirts, one solid, one patterned, both very nice.  However, when I got them home and tried them on, I found a two-inch slit at the breast, for no reason at all.  This on a shirt whose neckline is already four inches below my collarbone, putting the slit squarely above my cleavage.  And I would swear that this shirt was intended to be worn at work.  How is this appropriate? 

What is this nonsense?

And oh yes, heaven forbid that I suggest trying to work in some of the things I’ve worn in my life.  Or indeed, do anything at all.  So much of the clothing I wear to look “nice” is so impractical, either by the way it fits, or the stifling fabric it uses, or the difficulties that go along with cleaning it.  There are some things in my closet that have never been washed.  Don’t judge me, I’m sure you’ve done it too.

I need an entirely new paragraph to mention pockets.  The one reason I chose my current phone when I upgraded was because it was the smallest one, and had the best chance of fitting in my pocket.  Even on my jeans, though, there is now a worn rectangle with rounded edges over my right pocket, because the fit is so tight.  And yesterday, I put on a new pair of dress pants and realized I hadn’t yet cut open the pocket.  I did so, and put my hand into the pocket, only to be stopped at the second knuckle.  Not even two inches.  I ask you—what is that going to hold?  People wonder why women have such large purses—it’s because we don’t have pockets to carry things! 

I wonder sometimes if designers know anything about women at all.  Do they know that there are women beyond New York and Los Angeles who are not six feet tall and 118 pounds?  Do they know that some of us have to do more than walk down the catwalk and back?  Can they understand that we would like clothing that will not only make us look good, but feel good?  Is it so strange to think that clothing should help you accomplish what you want to do for the day?

This rant is now over.  We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.