Here Are The 8 Absolute Most Frustrating Things About Clothing

It's another Tuesday, which means it's time for the column that has helped more people blow off steam than one of those rooms where they let you bash old tube TVs with a Louisville Slugger, The Gripe Report!

Boy, have I got some gripes for you.

We're going to talk about something we all have experience with: clothing.

But Matt — looking good, by the way — nudists don't wear clothes.

Thanks, and they may not like it, but even they have to throw on some pants for a funeral or court date.

Have a gripe? Send it in!: matthew.reigle@outkick.com

But all kinds of stuff bugs me about certain pieces of clothing, so I thought we'd dig into this.

Now, these are the things that annoy me about the clothing that I wear, not things that other people wear that annoy me.

That’s another list that we might need to do sometime (you’ve been warned, sunglasses with tethers).

So, let's get right into it, shall we?

At least 50% of these socks will be missing within the next month. (Getty Images)

Disappearing Socks

I feel like this Case of the Disappearing Socks — which sounds like the worst Sherlock Holmes novel ever — is the biggest mystery in all of clothing and has been for decades, and yet I’ve never heard a definitive answer as to what is actually happening.

Just recently, I bought a nice, crisp pack of Hanes ankle socks. Nice and soft to keep me from getting blisters on my walks around the neighborhood.

Anyway, I got a deal on Amazon and got like six pairs. This wasn’t that long ago, and I already have three pairs that are missing in action.

How? 

Once the socks come off my feet, I escort them to the hamper in the laundry room. From there, they are washed, dried, carried to my bed, paired up, and placed back in the dresser.

There is nowhere for them to be hiding along this journey.

It’s maddening.

I don’t know if the dryer is inhaling them or if some sock-stealing gremlin is breaking into my house and taking them, but all I know is socks are disappearing, and it needs to stop.

…I’m scared.

Sleeves Too Short

Now, I believe I’ve mentioned it before, but I stand at a very respectable 5-foot-10, which is without a doubt nature’s perfect height.

No one calls me short, and no one makes "How’s the weather up there?" jokes.

I can reach shelves, but I can also fit in a standard airline seat.

Perfect. 

However, I’m built like an orangutan with disproportionately long arms.

This means that never in my life have I been able to buy a dress shirt off the rack that fits properly.

If it fits my torso properly. The sleeves end up in No Man’s Land between my wrist and elbow.

If I go for a proper sleeve length, I’m swimming in the shirt.

Luckily, I have a job where I can I wear T-shirts and sweatshirt. If I hop on a call wearing a shirt with a collar people are like, "Damn; JD Rockefeller over here must be going to the symphony tonight!"

But people get married and die, therefore I need dress shirts, and it’s tough to find good ones for someone with my simian-like build. 

There's a good chance that the laces your shoes come with will either be way too short to tie, or several yards too long. There is no inbetween. (Getty Images)

Laces Never The Right Size

I don’t mean to brag, but I’ve owned many pairs of shoes and other kinds of footwear in my now 30 years of life.

Sneakers, dress shoes, boots, Crocs (hell yeah, brother), flip flops, hockey skates, Heelys, and I think at some point I even owned a pair of flippers for some inexplicable reason. 

I grew up in Central Pennsylvania. Did I think I was Jacques Cousteau or something? 

But I want to focus on anything with laces, because I think I can count on one hand how many times I’ve ever had shoes or boots or skates with laces that were the appropriate length. 

They’re either so short that there’s no room for error when you’re tying them, or they’re so long that you have to double or triple knot them or wrap the laces around your ankles just so the loops don’t drag on the ground like the ears of a lop-eared rabbit.

I get that people’s feet vary, but it seems to me that the lace selection is pretty random. You’ll buy a pair of running shoes with a mile of extra lace, which is kind of a tripping hazard. 

Also, as far as I’m aware, there’s no way to clip and then perfectly re-seal the laces (it’s called an aglet). If I could do that with some sort of kit, problem solved, but since I’m too lazy to go search Amazon and see if anything like that exists, I guess I’ll just continue living with this issue. 

Knotted Laces On Anything

Speaking of laces, few things make that one vein in the corner of my eye pulse with rage like getting a knot in a pair of laces.

Shoes, sweatshirt, gym shorts; it really doesn’t matter, I will lose sleep over this or remove the offending item from my rotation. 

I do my best to salvage laces when I can, which usually means taking a toothpick and stabbing away at it until it comes loose. 

If I remember correctly, this is the same strategy Alexander the Great used with the Gordian Knot. 

T-Shirt Collars That Roll Up

I swear, this could be a "me" thing, because any time I’ve tried to explain this to people, they end up rolling their eyes, but it bugs the s–t out of me. 

Think of a T-shirt collar: you want it to lie flat around your neck. 

What I hate is when it folds in on itself and bunches up. 

I’m aware that an iron could probably solve this dilemma temporarily, but I don’t want it to happen at all. 

I have some shirts that have had crisp collars for years, and some that started folding up the second I put them on. 

I realize this may sound like the rantings of a madman, but I needed to get this off my chest. 

Ahh… much better.

Sweatpants Drawstrings That Get Sucked Into The Band

I think we’ve all been here, and it’s enraging. 

You’ve got a pair of sweatpants or shorts (this can happen to hoodie hoods too), and all of a sudden, one end of the drawstring has retreated into the fabric channel that it runs through. 

Sort of like using a toothpick to work out a knot, this is a tedious endeavor, and I’ll even admit to getting so frustrated that I just decided to take drastic measures and yank out the drawstring.

This is often caused by the washing machine — Et tu, GE?! — and I don't know if there's any way to prevent it, but I'm not a textile engineer.

That said, someone who is should figure this out.

You may know what size your wear, but clothing companies have decided to go rogue with XLs that fit like larges, and larges big enough to cover your grill with. (Getty Images)

No Universal Sizing For Anything

I know what size shirt I wear and I know what size pants I wear, but I hardly ever order anything online because, for some reason, we've all just decided it's okay for sizes to mean totally different things from company to company.

Why is an XL shirt not the same across the board? I hate how I can buy one shirt that fits me perfectly, then order another shirt in the same size from another company, and now this one is so big I'm swimming in it, or it runs so small my gut sticks out of it.

It makes me mad when I see a company advertise that their stuff runs small. If you know that, why don't you adjust the sizes accordingly?! If an XL won't fit someone who wears an XL — news flash! — it's not an XL.

In the age of the internet, this needs to be fixed. I should know when I order something that it will fit.
 

Belt Sizes Are Confusing

Now, I'm kind of an idiot, but I hate buying belts because the sizes confuse me.

They're often labeled like pants waist sizes — 32, 34, 36, etc. — so you'd think it should be simple enough to just grab the matching size.

Wrong.

I've gotten my size and barely had one belt hole to use, then I went up one size to accommodate, and had to punch new holes in the belt because it was way too big.

Come on, Big Belt industry. Stop confusing us idiots!

…

That's it for this week's edition of The Gripe Report!

If you've got any gripes of your own — clothing related or otherwise — be sure to send them in!: matthew.reigle@outkick.com