Disclaimer: The opinions expressed here are my own only. I have neither
been asked for a review nor compensated in any way by the company described
herein.
I have a complicated relationship with pants. I like them and I prefer
wearing them over dresses and skirts. Something about skirts just doesn’t feel
correct to me. Skirts are too girly, too soft, and they make me fear the wind
blowing them up where they shouldn’t be. If of the long and flowy type, the
excess fabric of skirts gets tangled about my legs and stuck in car doors. I’m
clumsy and I don’t need something other than my feet to get bungeed up and trip
over. Pants look better to me and make me feel more secure and myself, but
sadly they are usually not designed to fit nor flatter my body shape and size.
Pants are always riding up where I don’t want them or sliding down
where they shouldn’t be. I’ll choose a cuff that’s so long it’s dragging on the
ground over one rising up to reveal my pallid, deceased carp-colored ankle
skin, but finding the happy medium between the two seems impossible. Bending
over leaves me nervous, as I constantly fear a glimpse of my underwear peeking
out the back of my waistband.
I realize I may be suffering from a pathological fear of showing
underwear in public. The obvious solution for this would be to stop wearing it,
but I digress.
 |
| My phobia realized. |
Sitting and breathing in pants at the same time is not usually possible, or at least not comfortable. At the end of the day when I take them off, pants leave angry red impressions of their buttons, zippers, and waistband around the soft, squishy skin of my middle-section.
Needless to say it’s a lifelong struggle, and the struggle is very real.
I am always on the hunt for a better, kinder, gentler pair of pants.
This past Saturday I found my way into a Duluth Trading Co. clothing
store for the first time. A few people have recommended Duluth to me, and this
past Christmas my sister gifted me with one of their no-tug tank tops which
quickly became my favorite item to wear under sweaters. Still, I was hesitant
as clothing and I historically don’t mix well.
The store was big, clean, bright and clearly laid out; ladies to the
left and gents to the right. In the back there was a room for clearance items
and a display of antique tools. Good ‘ol boy country music played gently from
hidden speakers. Upon entering, I did the same thing I usually do in clothing
stores: take a few steps in, glance hesitantly around and decide via mental
telepathy without touching a single item of clothes that nothing would fit.
As I was about to head right back out the door my husband intercepted and
gave me a gentle push toward the women’s department, telling me to take my time
and that he’d be checking out shoes in the back.
I scanned the shelves in a quick, perfunctory manner, confident I’d see
nothing in my size. Instead I was left puzzled. The pants sizes were listed in
inches; by inseam and waist. I double-checked to make sure I was actually in
the women’s section and sure enough, there were a row of bras behind me.
Instead of a meaningless and arbitrary number that means something
different to every different clothing designer, Duluth sizes their women’s
pants the same way they do men’s pants: by the actual inches of a person’s
body. I muttered aloud, “they treat women’s clothing just like men’s,” and the
woman shopping behind me gave me a bemused look.
That was shock number one. Which led me to a problem: I’ve been shopping
via random, meaningless size numbers for 44 years, I have no idea whatsoever what
the actual dimensions of my body are. So I just grabbed the biggest size they
had in a pair of cargo pants and assumed the worst.
Additionally, there was no plus sized section. Things were sorted by
type and style with all available sizes mixed in together. I’m used to getting
banished to the back of stores where shameful fatties belong and a few paltry, illicit
racks of plastifabric florals tangle together and on the floor. I had no idea
how to even find where the few styles and sizes designated for me were. They
couldn’t be mixed in up front with all the cute things and normal person
clothes, could they?
Puzzled, I gathered up a sports bra and then prowled the clearance room
(it’s an entire room!) for cute, baby-butt soft, stripey long sleeved shirts –
again picking up the biggest size I could find in everything and presuming it
would all be too small. No half-hidden plus section means no plus clothes,
right?
Wrong. Shock number two came when I discovered everything I’d picked
out was too big for me. Unless I’m specifically shopping a plus sized clothing
store, filled entirely with brands made exclusively for plus sized women, that
never ever happens.
The pants were something of a wonder. The next size down fit me and had
pockets for days. At least eight of them by my count. Also a little rise of
extra fabric in the back to prevent underwear flashing, as if the designer was
reading my paranoid little mind. The price, I admit, gave me serious sticker
shock, but since I’d been promised they would last “forever” and they did both
feel and look wonderful, I wound up taking them home.
The prices of the clearance rack shirts were reasonable, and once I’d
sized down appropriately I took home two of those as well.
The bras were huge. After trying on one size down, then two sizes down,
I gave up. I’m sure if I kept going I’d have found one to fit but I ran out of
patience. I don’t have a deep well of that where clothes are concerned.
I tried on a coat, but everything in the store was too small. Also the
price was no-way bonkers too high.
Lastly, I sprung for a pair of insanely priced underwear. One pair cost
what I usually pay for about ten. Much to my dismay I now have to admit is the
best and most comfortable pair I own. Bastards.
Aside from the steep pricing at war with my innate cheapness, it was
the easiest and most pleasant clothes shopping experience of my life. I didn’t
feel guilty, or frustrated, or in any way unwelcome. And now I own comfy cute
pants that are long enough and have SO MANY POCKETS.
In short, Duluth is welcoming to both straight and plus sized customers
with open arms and total equality. Priced the same, mixed all in together on
the same shelves, and sized in the sensible way that men’s clothing has been
since forever.
Not cheap. Totally worth it.
