Lane Bryant is for plus sizes. Hollister is for teenagers. Old Navy is a cheaper version of The Gap, which is a cheaper version of Banana Republic. Victoria’s Secret is overpriced and their sizes are unrealistic and limited in range.
I never sat down and studied these brands consciously. These are associations made over time, by a combination of mere exposure, personal experience, and advertising. I can tell you which stores I shop at and which ones I don’t, or that my sizes run smaller at some of them compared to others as a result of vanity sizing. I had over twenty years to make these connections over time.
Then I moved to Germany.
I have no frame of reference for anything here, and in my third year, shopping is still a nightmare.
Nothing fits.
It’s somewhat common knowledge that many countries have different sizing systems. It’s also, at least theoretically, a fairly easy problem to solve. You look at a conversion chart and you find out which US sizes match with which UK sizes, for instance. Or you take measurements (preferably metric!) and figure out your size based on whatever a certain brand reports as its sizing patterns.
It is never actually that simple, though. Individual garments of the same style, from the same manufacturer, can vary slightly. Vanity sizing exists everywhere. Some stores do it more than others. And what if you’re on the edge between two sizes?
In addition, some countries set their sizes for different demographics. My very tall, very thin German husband couldn’t find a single pair of fitting pants in the US. I am short and thin and haven’t been able to find pants at many German stores. Yet in China, I was an extra large. When designers strive for averages—especially averages that vary from country to country—some non-average people will get left out, or end up in categories they don’t recognize.
And I don’t know these brands.
There is no Gap here, no VS, no New York and Company. I’m sure I could get similar clothes if I poked around long enough at a department store or online, but I don’t. I’m used to a radically different shopping experience: mall-sized land hogs where you can browse a large selection in relative anonymity, where individual stores pattern along different basic aesthetics and market sectors. In Germany, there are a lot of large department stores and a lot of intimidating little boutiques.
Well, that and H&M. (And Urban Outfitters and American Apparel, and those only because I live in a big city.) But I’m not going to shop there for everything I own just because I’ve heard of them before. In fact, I don’t actually like a lot of H&M stuff. Their bras were utter crap, I hate their styles in women’s jeans, and a lot of their clothes are so low-quality that they simply fall apart. It’s not exactly balanced in favor of professional wear, either, which is mostly what I need.
Just shop online, then.
Shopping online from German/European companies doesn’t solve the style, size, or branding problems. It also adds shipping and removes the ability to try things on, making returns an almost inevitable hassle. Zalando only fixes a few of these issues.
Ordering imports from US brands means even higher shipping costs, and German couriers are surprisingly unreliable for international packages. Customs will hold on to some items for weeks and then make you pay outrageous taxes. Sales tax alone is 19%, not counting import duties. Returns are as good as impossible, and again, they’re often necessary in light of the fact that you can’t try anything on in advance.
So what do you do?
Due to dietary and lifestyle changes that are also a direct result of my move to Germany, I’ve lost over 20 pounds since leaving the US. Despite many excursions into shops here, I haven’t bought a single article of clothing in the last year. I just haven’t been satisfied with anything I’ve tried on. I’ve been belting the crap out of floppy old pants—even putting new holes in old belts—and hoping I can hide holey shirts under less-holey layers. Nothing is as embarrassing as the puckering old bras with the underwire eating through its fabric casing and poking you in the sternum.
What I’m about to do is go on a shopping spree when I’m back in the US at Christmastime. I hate shopping—I am not going to browse; I am on a mission for specific items from specific places. But I look forward to the familiarity and the knowledge I’ll be paying way less than 19% in sales tax no matter where I go. I can’t wait to have stuff that fits, and as evidence that decades of marketing has done its job properly, I can’t wait to have the shopping experience I’m used to.