Some people dream about knife-wielding maniacs, alien invasions and the end of the world, flying yogurt or even sink parties. I had this horrible nightmare about vanity sizing. You know, the sizing protocol whereby a 12 today is much much bigger than a 12 was in 1950. I know this because I wore my grandmother's wedding dress, which she bought off the rack at Saks in 1947 - it was a size 12. And then my mom had it altered a bunch when she got married, and then I had to get it altered a bunch yet again to fit my 2003-sized self.
Well in my dream, I was trying on the skinniest jeans ever, and so happy because they were fitting me so nicely. It started off great. And then all of a sudden I saw the label and they were 20 sizes bigger than any of my usual sizes (ranging across many sizes because of the aforementioned arbitrary sizing). And the snotty salesgirl in my dream said they were going back to the old system. NOOOOO!
So I guess they can't have vanity sizing for men because aren't the sizes actually related to inches, waist, neck etc. What a good idea. I'm just as happy not to shop for everything like I shop for bras though I guess. I can't even really get that right, even though it's supposedly objective. I know someone professional could measure me at a Victoria's Secret, because every time I go in there, someone offers. I know that they are professionals, and theoretically there should be nothing awkward, but that seems like one of the more psychically painful interactions I could subject myself to. What kind of small talk would you make when she is measuring you in your old bra? Will she comment on the ratty state of the old undergarments to go for the upsell? Or will I say, wow your hands are warm. Shudder.