I don’t believe in soulmates any more. (Thanks, dating apps, for killing my spirit!) But until recently, I did believe that there was a perfect romper out there for everyone. The first time I saw one I thought, “What an easy summer lewk! Pop this baby on, throw on some sandals and hit the town!” The options were so cute, they were even worth putting up with getting naked every time I had to pee (think twice before you pack one for your next festival, friends) and contantly being on the watch for camel-toe realness.
For me, The One was a $12 find from Walmart that I scored last summer. At first, I was skeptical that a plus-size romper would actually fit well, but when I tried it on it looked ah-mazing—the cut was super flattering and the floral pattern was so pretty. Bonus: the material and waistband were stretchy AF, which made it easier to get in and out of. I pretty much lived in it all season long.
Except I wasn’t quite careful enough taking it off one night, and accidentally tore the neckline. I was so bummed. But like a date that goes surprisingly well, my floral romper gave me a glimmer of hope that there were other good ones out there. So, last week, I set out to find one to replace it.
Here’s a friendly tip: If you’re planning on going shopping for a onesie, skip your morning cardio. Because if you’re anything like me (long torso and large chest), climbing into look after look can start to feel like an actual marathon. I also recommend bringing a friend along to the fitting room. Because when you’re sweaty and annoyed from the humidity in Forever 21, you may need someone to rant with over the partitions who can also tell you if the romper you’re trying rides too far up to be considered work-appropriate.
While you’re in there, test for a couple of common one-piece probs: Bend over to see how high the shorts ride up, and make sure that when you readjust you won’t risk flashing a boob to your pals across the brunch table.
I came close to finding my next fling, but nothing measured up (pun intended) to my great love. At least half the rompers I tried on were wide enough but not long enough. I almost bought this one, because it was so comfortable and reminded me of the soft summer PJs I used to wear during the summer as a child, but it was so flimsy I worried it would catch on something and tear—which would suck, since there’s not much coverage in the first place.
I loved the fit and the flowy skirt overlay on this one from Torrid, but the colour washed out my pink-undertoned skin. And this one, also from Torrid, was super comfortable, but my summer wardrobe goals are all about adding more colour, so it didn’t make the cut. This one almost won me over; I love the bright colour and it fit pretty well, but didn’t quite pass the bend-over-without-exposing-yourself test. This online exclusive could be the answer, but as with most fitted items, I try to avoid buying rompers on the web for fear of the dreaded aforementioned camel-toe issue. I left the mall with some new pants and an adorbs bomber jacket and decided to skip the romper look this summer. I don’t have the patience to keep looking and I can’t justify settling for less.
If it were up to me, plus-size rompers would all have the following (listen up, designers!): comes in three different torso sizes, including petite and long; has just enough definition and elasticity around the waist; has long enough shorts (let’s also make those in three different lengths, please) so you don’t get a wedgie every 10 steps; and comes in bright colours and prints. That’s not too much to ask, is it? Maybe, like dating, there needs to be an app for that.
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