One size fits all is not true at all
My credit card was shaking from the shock. No, I didn't just buy two pairs of Chiara's like Kiek at the Bijenkorf. two pairs of Chiara's at the Bijenkorf. Or just like our sales director Daan who bought those dresses from Isabel or like Annick who dropped a Proenza in her basket. And Elke a bag from A.P.C.. Or Lil a pair of boots that she will be hitting you with for years to come. Or just like May a swimsuit from Net-A-Porter. And by the way, Simone is lurking with a credit card for a Mulberry. None of that. I had a wedding and nothing to wear. This dreadful event took place on Tuesday and the wedding in question was on Friday.
You want to look a bit nice, so I stuffed my baskets at the Bijenkorf (ordered today, delivered tomorrow), Zara (express deliveries) and Mango (also an express case) to the digital brim. Or well, to the max of my card. To fit in a bit nicely, I ordered a variety of sizes and the delivery people made me blissfully happy on Thursday by coming by with large, well-filled boxes of clothing. The editors chanted ‘try on, try on, try on’ across the editorial office and even though it made me a bit warm, I did it anyway. Note: it was bloody hot and I was a bit nervous whether I would have anything to wear at the 'I do' of my dear friends. Naked is also a bit much.
Dress one, this was logically my favorite. Plus point uno and dos at chest height could not be restrained by the wrap dress, causing the otherwise so frivolous Cuba skirt to hang unattractively open at crotch height. Dress two, in the category also quite okay with the same size AND from the same brand... If only it were a wrap dress, because I had about fifty centimeters of fabric left around the waist that I could do nothing with except camp. Dress three, it itches extremely. Dress four in the same size, quite suffocating around the hips. Dress five, too loose around the chest (uuuuh, particularly weird fit, because I never have it too loose around the ladies). Dress six, a bit straitjacket-like around the upper arm and loose around the derrière. Dress seven, the tag that has wrapped itself wizard-like around the bottom of the dress and which has me now in a knot. Dress eight, PANIC. Huge, overwhelming, enormous, dramatic panic.
“With those little buttocks in those pants”
Dear fashion house, I don't get it. How can your sizing be so extremely inconsistent? That after trying on clothing item one you need resuscitation because it's too tight. And with clothing item two you need needle and thread at the ready to sculpt any of your curves into the fabric. One size fits not at all, just like your average S, M, L or XL, 36, 38, 40 or 42. If the brand is French, just go a size up. In the case of Italian craftsmanship, then it's definitely plus-gigantic. If you're dealing with Scandinavian, then it's all a bit less frail again. Even I, as a gifted shopper, get completely flustered by that. And also a bit sad. Did you also know that it has to do with the trend? If it's tiny, then you will never fit into the size you normally have with your Dutch upper thighs. Is the trend Kardashian? Then they adjust it all more to shape and you're nowhere with those little buttocks in those pants. It could also just be that your size 36 from 5 years ago now goes over the counter as a 40. I find it quite complicated.
Kiek buys herself lost in bags and shoes in the context of ‘always good’, but even the shoe from the fashion house in question showed a bit too much toe décolletage on me. Therefore, I hereby decide that I will no longer pay attention to all those numbers in the collar or pant hem. If a brand and fashion house messes with those centimeters like that, then I can too. ‘What did you say, miss saleswoman? Oooh, I've been wearing an S for yeeeears.’
