Last weekend, I went to the mall to exchange a pair of shorts I’d ordered online. I explained to the sales girl behind the counter that they were too small, and asked if they had the next size up in stock.
“Let me look at you,” she directed. I held back my baggy sweater so she could estimate my size. “Oh yeah, if the 3’s didn’t fit you, you’ll definitely be a 5. You’re so tiny. Don’t worry, our sizes run small. I’m like two sizes bigger here than I am at other stores.”
I said I wanted to try them on just in case, and she got me a dressing room. When I came back out to purchase them she said, “I knew you’d be a 5.”
I said, “Thank you,” and then I felt confused. Why did I thank her? Why is being a 5—instead of, say, a 9—a compliment? Why did she think I would feel worried about needing a bigger size?
Back when I worked at a retail store myself, I remember one customer in particular who came in to try on dresses. She told us she was a 6, and we helped her pick styles in that size. After she tried them on, though, it became apparent that she was nowhere near a 6. It took about an hour before she would let us bring her a size that would fit—a 16.
We also had a rule where we were never allowed to tell women we would get them a “bigger” size. We had to say we would get them a “different” size or “another” size, because using the word “bigger” could cost us a sale.
I think we’re all guilty of being way too concerned with the number on the tag instead of the way a piece of clothing makes us look and feel. We all know that a number on a scale can’t tell you how healthy you are, so why do we still act like a number on a pair of shorts can tell us how beautiful we are? It’s common knowledge that different sizes mean completely different things in different stores. They mean even less when you compare them across continents. My roommate just ordered a dress from Australia, where the sizes start at 6 instead of at 00 like they do in the U.S. We all laughed at the “1, 3, 5” store in Mean Girls, but there was a lot of truth behind that scene.
What really strikes me as odd is that I think we all get this. We all know that a size is just an arbitrary number with very little meaning. We all know that what matters is choosing clothes that flatter us. But we still talk like size matters, especially in retail environments.
So I challenge all of you, especially those of you who work in retail, to pay attention to this kind of talk. Let’s stop speaking as if smaller sizes somehow reflect a higher value, until maybe someday we’ll actually start believing they don’t.