Nothing 'petite' about her indignation

By TANYA BARRIENTOS
PHILADELPHIA INQUIRER
I bought a pair of black capris the other day, knowing the minute I got home I would take scissors, snip a couple of threads, and roll down the cuffs so they'd fit like regular-length pants.
Because I'm short.
Five-foot-nothing short. Can-barely-see-over-the-counter-at-the-bank short. Parking-valets-curse-me short.
I used to call myself "petite," because it sounds so much better than "stubby," or "squat" or "runty."
But I'm not doing the "P" word anymore.
Not since the fashion world decided that petite is the new frumpy.
You may have overlooked the whole petite brouhaha that's been brewing the last few weeks, particularly if you stand tall. But, trust me, for those of us residing in Munchkin Land, it's been big news.
The story is, essentially, this: Three big department stores -- Saks Fifth Avenue, Bloomingdale's and Neiman Marcus -- decided to eliminate, or significantly downsize, their petite departments, because some fashionistas believe women who shop there are over-the-hill, out-of-fashion, and not-worth-the-trouble.
Executives were quoted as saying little ladies would much rather wear hipper styles in contemporary departments, even if they don't fit as well.
Huh?
You think I enjoy hemming every pair of khakis I buy? You think sleeves that dangle past my fingertips make me feel mod? It's not my fault the clothes in the petite section look like leftovers from "Dynasty."
Or that, in general, women's clothes come in three standard sizes -- "juniors" (middle school), "misses" (desperate housewives), and "plus" (big boxy combos that are always housed near the flowered bed sheets).
Free tailoring
Never mind that the big-deal department store guys -- and I'd bet my house they're guys -- wear pants that are routinely manufactured to fit any measurement of leg and waist. If one of their suits doesn't fit, they get alterations. Free.
I don't mean to get all Gloria Steinem about this (she's 5-foot-9, by the way). But, I dare say, if small men couldn't find shirts that fit at Bloomies, the head honchos would never shrug them off.
Which is why this entire thing baffles me.
Women like me may not be able to reach the camis piled on the highest shelf, but we're certainly tall enough to slide our credit card toward the register.
In fact, according to the New York Times, we've spent a sizable $10 billion on small clothes over the last several years. That's billion with a "B," which rhymes with "P," which stands for "peeved."
When Saks fessed up that it was, indeed, axing its entire petite department, and the other stores admitted they probably were headed the same way, the tiniest among us roared.
Little fingers flew over telephone pads and computer keyboards, lodging super-size complaints, and Saks succumbed. Starting in the fall, it will reinstate its petite department.
Neiman's and Bloomingdale's have not turned around just yet. But, may I suggest that their execs add Gulliver's Travels to their summer reading lists?
Tanya Barrientos is a columnist for the Philadelphia Inquirer. Distributed by McClatchy-Tribune Information Services.