The 10 Commandments a.k.a. Clothing Math

As it happens, I have a sort of love-hate relationship with clothing. Love, because we (for better or worse) live in a society where clothing is something we’re required to have, and also, because one can’t help but develop an affection for some article that makes you feel good when you wear it. Hate, because of the process of actually finding that article. I’m sure a great many of you have deduced this from between the lines, but yours truly isn’t exactly what you would call a big shopper.

It’s not just the boobs that cause this strained relationship (see what I did there?) with the idea. Even before I got the boobs, when I was in my 20s, I tended to avoid shopping like the plague. Or, at the very least, found it necessary to solicit the help of some of my more fashion-minded friends who would accompany me for some moral support. Of course, as it is for everyone, some aspect of clothing shopping is a necessity from time to time — like going to get your oil changed or hitting up the dentist, it’s something I don’t look forward to… but it has to be done, nonetheless. If I went into some store solo, the timer would start, and I would have precious few minutes to peruse the racks and fling garments around the dressing room before my attention span diminished completely, and I would lose interest altogether. Having some backup forced me to stay on track long enough so I could find some semblance of what I was looking for.

Even before then, when I was a kid, I still vividly recall heading over to the mall during back-to-school time. I, like so many other kids whose moms lug them along reluctantly, was an unappreciative little scamp — when you’re 9, you don’t realize how much clothes cost. But in my wee brain, it was torture.

To this day, I will keep the same two pairs of jeans until one of them dies. Then, I’ll generally wait around until the sole remaining pair is on the verge of heading to that Great Sweatshop in the Sky, at which point, I’ll figure it’s time for a re-stock. 

Aside from randomly acquiring a few pieces here and there, one of these “all in one fell swoop” shopping sprees hasn’t occurred in… well, a lot of seasons have come and gone. As it happens, the one-and-only clothing store within 50 miles of me is fine, but it’s tiny. Some mom-and-pop mini department store that sells the essentials, as well as a few fun things (but very, very little in my size. My usual default when I’m passing through there, and just need something is to grab a unisex tee shirt in the summer months; last winter, when the frosts were approaching, I stocked up on a couple of big, cozy old-man sweaters that looked like they came from the costume department of the Cosby Show.

But, with the heralding of my second pair of jeans going the way of the dodo, it’s time. And so, I take to the internet.

I heard of the site before, but have never actually tried ordering anything from them. It’s called Fashionnova, and while they cater to women of more traditional figures, they do have a capable plus-sized branch too, and everything is pretty reasonably priced, fast fashion, but generally made in the USA. For anything below the waist, I’m pretty easy-going, so a pair of jeans that doesn’t make my ass look lore non-existent than it already is will be just fine. For anything above the waist? It’s time to hit up the plus-size department.

Over the last week, I’ve been scouring Fashionnova, becoming cross eyed and distracted on more than one occasion as the timer ticks down to attention span obliteration. It doesn’t help that there are literally thousands of options on this site, each one with its own rules, sizings, fabric compositions… It quickly became apparent that, in lieu of actually being able to try anything on in person, I had to use my imagination, figuring that for this design an XL (or 1X? I’m still not exactly sure of the difference) would be fine; this design over here, on the other hand, might require a 3X. If it's stretchy? Maybe smaller! Unless it being bigger would mean it could be more of a dress... Or would it be too big, and fit me like a circus tent? Or would something be too small, and I’d hardly ever wear it because I would be exploding out of the sleeves or spilling out the bottom? How would this look with a bra? Could I get away going braless with this? Maybe if I layer? How would this layer? How would this fit me if I still had my small boobs? How much to compensate with the boobs?

You know that meme of the confused blonde woman, staring blankly into the distance as her face is surrounded by complicated mathematical equations? That’s pretty much been me over the last several days. 

But, with time, I’ve managed to take the accumulated data, and put together a rough list of guidelines that, for me, have made the process a little easier. If a garment doesn’t violate too many of these 10 Clothing Commandments? It might just be a winner. I imagine this list of Heather’s Clothing Rules will evolve and adapt over time, and none of them is hard-and-fast, but for now, it’s been helpful.

No. 1: Overall Aesthetic. My style is conservative, but not square. Modest, but not in an 1890s farm girl kind of way. I'm all about comfort and practicality, and wearing clothes that aren’t so trendy that they’ll be hopelessly outdated by this time next year. I’m not a big fan of “girly,” but I certainly don’t mind “feeling like a girl” in clothes (as my old-man sweaters have reminded me). Neutral colors, earth tones, maybe a pop of color here and there if the outfit itself is great.

No. 2: Coverage. The elephant(s) in the corner of the room… my boobs get more-than enough attention as it is, and I seldom find they need any help. So in tops, I tend to veer towards minimal-to-no cleavage. Also, I have a pet peeve shared by many women out there — I really just don’t feel comfortable being out in public and having my bra showing, especially because most of the bras I own look like they were designed by one of Santiago Calatrava’s more Brutalist contemporaries. Long cuts are preferable, because spilling out the bottom is something that’s happened in the past, leading to a lot of confused stares that take me a moment to decipher.

No. 3: Spandex is Bae. Do people still say bae? I’m too old for this shit… Anyway. If it has spandex in it, it’s stretchy. And if it’s stretchy, it automatically gets mega bonus points.

No. 4: Fuck the Sizing Chart. Every clothing website will have measurements. But those can change for me over the course of a day. If I’m wearing a bra with the straps set to tight? The bust size is more reliable. But if I’m going braless, either in or out of the house, my breasts are on level with my waist. So I tend to go for items that can accommodate either bra’d or braless. 

No. 5: When In Doubt… I just go a little larger, especially if it’s a non-stretchy fabric. I know a great local seamstress, and if something is too large, she’s developed a pretty keen ability to take it in a little. Plus, she’s a cool old lady with these bright neon stripes in her hair, and she brings me joy. 

No. 6: Go with the Flow. Shelves for your breasts, empire waists, different panels of fabric… usually bad signs. Most clothing like this just isn’t made for breasts this size. So, flowy. Tunic styles work. Longer dresses. Longer, European-cut tee shirts. And in these cases… back to the spandex. If it’s not stretchy, clothing just hangs straight of my boobs, and it looks like a frontal muumuu. With a little spandex and a slightly smaller size, my body gets hugged a little more, and it just looks more “intentional.”

No. 7: The Laws of Physics. In looking at hundreds, thousands, of these beautiful plus-size models showing off the clothes, I have to apply an extra filter: how will I look in that outfit. In my minds eye, I imagine these models a little skinnier, and with an appearance that says “Shhh, don’t tell anyone that I’m smuggling two soccer balls under my top.” Sometimes, with that filter applied, the end result could be tragic and just plain silly. Though sometimes, the particular style of an outfit might show me off in a way that’s actually… cute and flattering. It’s a case-by-case thing, and I’m STILL figuring that one out… 

No. 8: That Being Said… Most of these rules focus on sheer practicality, for obvious reasons. I’m not a cam girl, and my general style just tends to veer away from being “showy.” But… there are a couple of items, in all of this scouring, that have given me cause for a double take. “No,” I think… “That’s insane. There’s no WAY I could ever pull that off. It’s shocking, outrageous, insulting… And, shit, but I kinda love it.” Part of this journey for me has involved appreciating my body for what it is, and God willing, actually having a little fun with it. So, I try to keep in mind that clothing can be a great way to go about that. Something a little nuts, every now and then, for those rare instances where I just want to be all like, VAVOOM? Yeah, why the hell not.

No. 9: Go With My Gut. I tend to obsess, and dangle sizes over an article of clothing, figuring that if I miss the mark, I’m gonna be bummed because I should go an extra size larger or smaller. But eventually, I just have to use my best judgment, and trust in the return policy. 

Hmm. I guess that’s only 9. Though I’ll welcome any suggestions to round it out. What did I forget?

In any case. I’ve enjoyed writing this article. It’s like a nice, refreshing bite of sorbet that cleanses the palate. And, with that, I dive back into the fray, timer reset. Wish me luck.