In our lives, certain facts are inescapable, and certain words, either through their accuracy or sheer repetition, come to define us.  Physically, at least, I’ve always been defined by two words: (1) skinny and (2) short (there was a time, pre-adolescence, when “cute” also applied, but, alas, no longer).

Like most people, I never sought out skinnyness or shortitude.  I had them hoist upon me.  With the passage of time, vague promises from relatives and medical professionals of sprouting, filling-out, and metabolic torpor have gone successively unfulfilled, and now, nearing 30, I am enduringly, emphatically skinny and short.

I’m unbothered by this definition, but society is often unkind to those of slight frame and diminutive stature.  The words “short” and “skinny,” punctuated with sharp consonants, have a pejorative bend.  America is practically built on the notion that more is more and bigger is better, a mentality that gave us Manifest Destiny and skyscrapers but also Super Big Gulps and McMansions.  In our corn-fed nation with its rapidly-expanding waistlines, those of us who remain stubbornly slim are viewed with suspicion.

But forget all that.  Being skinny and short is mostly great, especially as a city dweller confined to narrow living and work spaces.  The only downside is the epic struggle to find clothes that fit – especially shirts.  In the search for proportional shirts, the skinny suffer many indignities: in disorderly stores, we trawl through rack after rack of shirts made for behemoths with 18” necks and 36” arms, and in well-kept shops, we are relegated to the absolute farthest corner, where a tiny selection awaits, always in the worst patterns and always full price.

(Are there so few of us, or are we just badly organized?  Are the skinny & short just another interest group in need of a Washington lobby to grab our slice of the pie – which, obviously, needn’t be very much at all).

On those occasions when we find something suitable, we’re always left wanting in one area or another.  Check our closets and you’ll find sleeves that are too long, neck holes the size of basketball hoops, and fabric so abundant it could cover a baseball diamond during a rain delay.

How can the short and skinny be deprived of something so essential to modern living as a button-up shirt that looks great, is well made, and just plain fits?  With their initial line, Hugh & Crye came tantalizingly close to fulfilling that promise.  They covered those of lean and broad physiques and of short, average, and tall stature.  But once again, it seemed, the skinny were left out.

No longer.

L: my torso is drowning in a so-called "small" shirt. R: Hugh & Crye's Short Skinny.

Pranav & team have heard the call of skinny guys of all heights and are adding short-skinny, average-skinny, and tall-skinny sizes.  As one of the loudest petitioners for more svelte sizing, I got an advance copy of the short-skinny Cartesia, and I’m pleased to report to all the shrimps, pencil necks, slim jims, and bean poles out there: our time has come.  These are shirts that fit.

H&C's skinny shirts stand out from the competition.

Short and skinny.  Now these words don’t just define who I am; they’re on my shirt label.  I’ll wear it with pride.

–Jordan Berman, Washington DC