I remember when 3/4 sleeves came into style. I was in 8th grade, at the height of my growth spurt and also at the height of Doc Marten’s 2 inch sole boots popularity. 5 foot 9 inches, skinny as a rail, a mouth full of orthodontia and a pair of thick-soled work boots. I was bringing a new meaning to bottom heavy.
Since I grew an ungodly amount over the course of a year, everything on me was short. Pants were too short, sleeves were too short, and jackets — just forget it. And then, as if they heard my prayers at night, Gap did tall girls everywhere a solid and brought back the fad of quarter sleeves and capri pants. No longer was I a young Frankenstein with limbs shooting out of my clothing, I was in style. From that point on, if my sleeves were supposed to be long I would just say they were three quarter. If my pants were a little bit short, I’d roll them up to ankle length and call them cropped. One small step for Gap, one giant leap for an awkward junior high girl who was as tall as some kid’s dads.
I asked my husband if these pants looked too short on me to which he replied: “aren’t they supposed to be cropped?” Why yes, yes they are.