Yuen: Why don’t women’s pants ever fit?

If you’re a woman and are ever in the company of men, a fun party conversation is to explain to them how women’s pant sizing works. Unlike men, we usually can’t shop at a mass retailer for a pair of pants based on the measurements of our waist and inseam (i.e. 34x32). Our sizes come in 2, 4, 6, 8, 10 and so on.

“Oh, so you just have to know your size,” the men assume.

Bless their hearts. They don’t know that a 6 at the Gap can vary greatly from a 6 at J. Crew. In my closet I own pants in a 2, 4, 6 and 8 in various brands, and they all miraculously fit.

As far as inseams go, there’s usually only one length to be found in a store. If you’re tall, you need to check the brand’s website to see if it makes a “tall” version. If you’re short, you might be lucky if they carry the pants in a petite size.

But “petite” is a misnomer, because it’s regarded for people who aren’t necessarily that small (around 5 feet 4 and under). That’s especially when you consider the average height of a woman in the United States is 5 feet 3.5 inches. (I am exactly 5 feet 4 and yet regular-length pants typically drag the floor on me.)

“That’s dumb,” a male friend agreed, when he finally got all of what I was trying to unload on him.

More concisely: Men’s pants sizes are sold in many varying lengths. Why aren’t women’s?

The answer turned out to be much more complex than I thought. I turned to writer Heather Radke, contributing editor to Radiolab and author of the book “Butts: A Backstory.” As the title suggests, the book is a history of the butt. But it also explores how our notion of the ideal female backside has evolved over time, and how forces larger than us — including racial and gender dynamics — have shaped the ideal and affect how we feel about our bodies in a store fitting room.

First of all, Radke agrees with me about how women’s pants are sized. “The way it works now is so bananas, it’s nonsensical,” she said. “The numbers mean nothing.”

But as she dove into the research for her book, she discovered how difficult it would be to create a system that considered the wide range of women’s silhouettes, and the overall fleshiness of our bodies. “Women’s bodies are too variable for there to be a standardization to truly work,” Radke said. “And it would be too expensive.”

In her book, Radke interviews a “fit model” whose job is to help designers and garment makers ensure that their jeans look good when worn. This woman’s exact measurements are coveted, as she is tall, slim and “has some butt, but not too much,” Radke explains. (Not surprisingly, the model is white and blond, she lives in Los Angeles and her name is Natasha.)

If Natasha’s measurements “align with the image or ideal that particular brand is trying to sell, she’s the right fit, regardless of how few women share her particular proportions,” Radke writes. “Garment makers are rarely in the business of making clothes that will work for actual people; instead, they cater to a fantasy of who the customer hopes to be.”

The two measurements that guide men’s sizing — waist and inseam — wouldn’t capture the width of a women’s hips or the circumference of her thighs, or whether she’s leggy or long-waisted, or whether her butt is round or flat. The denim industry in particular runs on thin margins, so most retailers try to offer a range of sizes that would fit most, but not all, bodies.

If you find yourself wondering why it’s harder to find pants that fit you than, say, in the past decade and a half, the latest trends in jeans could explain why, says Melissa Klema, who buys and designs denim for Edina-based Evereve.

The beauty of skinny jeans, popularized in the 2010s, is that they didn’t need to be precise. Stretchy and forgiving, they could be tucked into boots or worn at ankle length, above a pair of sneakers or heels.

Now that trends are swinging toward a wider or boot leg, it’s necessitating a more accurate fit, Klema said. Here are some tips for finding jeans that fit you better:

Radke said we often look in the dressing room mirror and find fault with ourselves. But knowing more about the forces of the clothing manufacturing industry can be empowering.

She urges us to think of it this way: “The reason these pants don’t fit isn’t because of my body. It’s because the garment industry can’t make them fit.”

Unless, of course, you’re Natasha.