Last year, I was in New York for a big event that was being hosted by one of the biggest jewelry brands in the world. I landed at JFK a couple days before all the festivities were due to start, which was perfect because I had big plans to spend a whole afternoon in one particular store. It had just announced its foray into “extended sizing,” and with my birthday less than a week away, I was ready to spend some serious money.

The day after I landed, I left my Lower East Side hotel and headed out to the store on Howard Street, buzzing. A sales associate introduced himself and let me know that they don’t always have all the sizing/styles out on the floor and that I should let him know if I needed anything in particular. I thanked him and started to pull pieces off the racks that I wanted him to get in my size. The shop’s extended sizing went up to a US24, so I was confident that I’d find something.

I’m a US14-18 (UK18-22). I’m three sizes, sometimes more. Trying to find clothes in “my size” is honestly hilarious. I basically have to go to a shop and request its biggest sizes, and then work my way down to see what fits. It’s very rare that I can just buy something in a US16 from somewhere and have it be suitable—even though it is technically my size.

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