The moment I knew men’s sizing had completely jumped the shark was during a particularly painful shopping trip with my friend Tony. Former college swimmer, still hits the gym five days a week, has the classic V-shaped torso that most guys would kill for. We were at a mid-range department store, and he was trying to find dress shirts for a new job.
“This one says ‘athletic fit,’” I pointed out, handing him what seemed like an obvious choice.
Tony disappeared into the fitting room, only to emerge looking like he was wearing a sail fashioned into a shirt. The shoulders drooped three inches past his actual shoulders. The waist could have fit another half-person inside it.
“What the hell?” he muttered, checking the tag again. “This is athletic fit?”
Two hours and seven stores later, we finally found shirts that fit him properly. They were labeled “slim fit.” Not athletic fit. Not regular fit. Certainly not “classic” or “traditional” fit, which made him look like he was a kid playing dress-up in his dad’s closet. The only shirts that actually accommodated his broader shoulders while tapering appropriately at the waist carried the “slim” designation.
That experience sent me down a rabbit hole of investigating what these ubiquitous yet wildly inconsistent fit labels actually mean across different American brands. The results were both fascinating and maddening—a hodgepodge of marketing terminology, arbitrary measurements, and competing definitions that make shopping unnecessarily complicated for men of all body types.
Let’s start with the basics. Most major American retailers and brands now offer multiple fits in their core categories (shirts, pants, suits, etc.). The exact terminology varies by brand, but you’ll commonly see labels like:
Regular/Standard Fit
Classic/Traditional Fit
Relaxed Fit
Slim/Tailored Fit
Athletic/Active Fit
Modern Fit
The problem? There is zero standardization across the industry about what these terms actually mean. One brand’s “slim” is another’s “regular.” One company’s “athletic” is looser than another’s “classic.” It’s a sizing Tower of Babel that leaves men frustrated, returns rates sky-high, and closets filled with clothes that never quite work.
“There’s no governing body that standardizes these terms,” explained Marcus, a technical designer I interviewed who’s worked for several major American menswear brands. “Each company defines them internally based on their target customer, their existing blocks [basic patterns], and frankly, marketing considerations.”
Those marketing considerations are crucial to understanding the chaos. As certain body types and silhouettes go in and out of fashion, brands adjust their terminology to seem current without necessarily changing their actual patterns significantly.
“Ten years ago, everyone wanted to offer ‘slim fit’ options because that was the trend,” Marcus continued. “But many mainstream brands didn’t actually make their slim fits particularly slim—they just needed the label to compete. Now ‘athletic fit’ is trendy terminology, but there’s even less consensus about what that actually means in practice.”
To make sense of this mess, I conducted a rather unscientific but revealing experiment. I measured identical size 40R suit jackets labeled as “athletic fit” from six different mainstream American brands. The variation was shocking:
Brand A’s athletic fit had a chest-to-waist drop (the difference between chest and waist measurements) of 8 inches.
Brand B’s was 6 inches.
Brand C’s was a mere 4 inches—actually less than their regular fit.
Brand D’s had a generous 10-inch drop but with narrower shoulders than their regular fit.
Brand E used the term for a jacket with a 7-inch drop but cut with extra material across the upper back.
Brand F’s athletic fit was identical to their regular fit but with slightly longer sleeves.
This is madness. How can the same term mean six completely different things?
The confusion extends to every category and body type. My friend Patrick, who has a more slender build, found that “slim fit” shirts from three different mall brands all fit him completely differently—one perfect, one still billowing at the waist, and one so tight he could barely move his arms.
“I’ve given up on the labels entirely,” he told me. “I just try everything on now, regardless of what it’s called.”
That’s wise advice, but it defeats the purpose of fit categorization, which supposedly exists to help streamline the shopping process. The whole point of these designations should be to guide customers toward products more likely to fit their particular body type. Instead, they’ve become essentially meaningless marketing terms.
So what’s actually going on with these labels, and how can men navigate them more successfully? After interviewing industry insiders and analyzing dozens of brands, I’ve identified some patterns in the madness:
“Regular” or “Standard” fit typically represents what the brand considers its core customer’s body type. For older, more established American brands (think Brooks Brothers, Lands’ End, L.L.Bean), this often means a boxier cut with ample room throughout. For newer brands targeting younger customers (J.Crew, Bonobos), “regular” typically has a more moderate silhouette. This is why a 40-year-old man who’s worn the same brands for decades might suddenly find “regular” fits too snug if he switches to a more contemporary brand.
“Classic” or “Traditional” fit is usually the roomiest option, designed with minimal tapering and maximum comfort in mind. But here’s where it gets tricky—some heritage brands use “classic” to describe their standard block, while others use it to denote their most generous fit. At Brooks Brothers, for instance, “classic” is roomier than “regular,” while at Ralph Lauren, the terms are sometimes used interchangeably.
“Slim” fit ostensibly offers a more tapered silhouette, particularly at the waist, with narrower cuts throughout. The degree of actual slimness varies dramatically by brand and target demographic. Gap’s slim fit, for example, is considerably more generous than J.Crew’s, which is itself less extreme than Zara’s. The age of the brand’s core customer is often the determining factor—the older the target demographic, the less actually “slim” their slim fit tends to be.
“Athletic” fit is the newest and most inconsistently applied term. In theory, it should accommodate broader shoulders and chests while tapering more significantly at the waist—designed for V-shaped torsos rather than straight or rounded ones. In practice, it means wildly different things across the industry. Some brands use it to describe what is essentially a slim fit with slightly more room in the chest and shoulders. Others use it for what amounts to a regular fit with marginally more tapering at the waist. Still others seem to use it interchangeably with “relaxed fit,” creating maximum confusion.
“Modern” fit is perhaps the most meaningless term of all—essentially a marketing catch-all that can mean anything from “less boxy than our traditional line” to “slimmer than regular but not as slim as slim.” It’s frequently employed when brands are trying to update their image without alienating existing customers.
The inconsistency creates genuine problems for men trying to build functional wardrobes. My friend Mike, who has the increasingly common body type sometimes called “skinny-fat” (slim limbs but carrying weight around the middle), finds himself in a particular sizing purgatory.
“Slim fits work for my arms and legs but not my midsection,” he explained during a frustrated shopping trip. “Regular fits work for my waist but look sloppy everywhere else. And athletic fits assume I have this broad chest and shoulders that I don’t have. I basically can’t win.”
For men with more muscular builds, the situation can be equally frustrating. Despite the proliferation of “athletic fit” options, many are athletic in name only. Derek, a personal trainer with the classic gym-built physique (broader shoulders, developed chest, narrower waist), has to size up in most shirts to fit his shoulders and chest, then get the waist taken in by a tailor.
“It’s like they think ‘athletic’ just means ‘slightly less fat,’” he observed after trying on yet another disappointing “athletic fit” button-down. “They don’t actually design for guys who lift.”
So how can men navigate this confusing landscape more successfully? Some practical strategies I’ve developed after years of helping men shop:
Ignore the labels initially and focus on measurements. Many brands now provide detailed sizing information online, including actual measurements for each fit type. Pay attention to chest-to-waist drop for jackets and shirts, rise and thigh measurements for pants, and shoulder width for anything worn on the upper body. These numbers tell you far more than the fit names ever will.
Identify brands that actually design for your specific body type. Through trial and error, you’ll discover which companies consistently work for your particular proportions. For V-shaped torsos, Peter Manning and Bonobos often deliver on their athletic fit promises. For slender builds, Suit Supply and Uniqlo provide genuinely slim options. For larger guys, Duluth Trading and Eddie Bauer offer well-designed regular and relaxed fits.
Learn your alterations budget. Some fit issues can be easily and affordably addressed by a tailor (waist suppression, sleeve and trouser length), while others are prohibitively expensive or practically impossible (shoulder width, neck circumference, rise in pants). Shop for items that fit in the hard-to-alter areas, and budget for adjustments to the rest.
Try one size up and one size down from what you think you need, especially when shopping a brand for the first time. Vanity sizing runs rampant in menswear, meaning a 34″ waist rarely measures 34 actual inches, and the degree of discrepancy varies widely between brands.
Look beyond the mass market. Some of the most innovative fitting options now come from digitally-native brands like Peter Manning (for shorter men), American Tall (for taller guys), and Bonobos (with their multiple fit options in the same styles). These companies have built their business models around solving fit problems that traditional retailers have ignored.
A particularly promising development is the emergence of brands offering the same style in multiple fits. Bonobos pioneered this approach with their chinos available in slim, tailored, athletic, and straight fits, all with the same design details and color options. This model allows men to find their optimal fit without compromising on style preferences.
“We realized that body diversity is just as significant as style diversity,” explained Craig, a product developer at a major American menswear brand that recently expanded their fit options. “The old model of forcing different bodies to adapt to a single fit standard just doesn’t make sense anymore, especially when manufacturing technology makes multiple blocks relatively easy to implement.”
The most encouraging trend I’ve observed is increased transparency about actual measurements. Forward-thinking brands have begun providing comprehensive sizing information for each fit variation—not just basic chest/waist numbers but details like shoulder width, sleeve opening, thigh circumference, and rise measurements. This allows men to make informed decisions based on their actual bodies rather than ambiguous fit terminology.
Until the industry adopts standardized definitions (which, let’s be honest, is unlikely to happen anytime soon), our best defense as consumers is information and experience. Learn your key measurements, understand which dimensions are most problematic for your particular body type, and keep records of which brands and fits consistently work for you.
And perhaps most importantly, remember that fit issues rarely reflect a problem with your body—they’re a problem with the clothing. When my swimmer friend Tony couldn’t fit into shirts properly, the issue wasn’t his perfectly healthy, athletic physique; it was an industry using misleading labels and designing primarily for a limited range of body types.
The next time you’re standing in a fitting room wondering how a “slim fit” could possibly be hanging off you like a tent, or how an “athletic fit” seems to have been designed for someone with the proportions of SpongeBob SquarePants, take comfort in knowing you’re not alone. The system is confusing by design, not by accident.
But with a better understanding of what these labels actually mean (or don’t mean), you can approach shopping more strategically, waste less time and money on ill-fitting clothes, and eventually build a wardrobe of pieces that genuinely work for your unique body—whatever arbitrary fit category it might or might not fall into.
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