I Went Looking For Pockets. I Found Lies.
So this is exclusively for women by the way. Because men’s clothing are apparantly superior and I dont wanna talk about it.
Girls, have you ever bought a piece of clothing and immediately looked for pockets? I know you have. Been there. The other day I bought a formal white dress shirt, it’s so pretty dont get me wrong.
It had front pockets and my god the happiness I felt. But NOW?? I bought it without checking the pockets. Got it home all snuggly and new and didnt even bother to try it on again because who ruins a perfectly new dress? (Also cuz I’m lazy but we dont talk about it T-T)
Fast forward to my first day as an intern. I’m getting ready, wearing the shirt, taking off my rings to wash my hands…
Naturally, I reached for the pocket.
Except there wasn’t one.
Guess what was in those front pockets? BETRAYAL.
The shirt had committed pocket fraud.
Not tiny pockets.
Not shallow pockets.
Counterfeit pockets.
WHY??
I don’t even want big pockets.
I’m not asking to carry a laptop. I’m not trying to sneak a watermelon into my shirt. I just want somewhere to put my rings while I wash my hands.
Is that too much to ask?
Apparently.
At this point, buying women’s clothing feels like accepting the Terms & Conditions without reading them.
Get divya’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
“Pockets shown are for illustrative purposes only.”
The funniest part is that we’ve all just… accepted it. We instinctively carry handbags. We become experts at balancing a phone, keys, wallet, water bottle and our dignity in two hands because somewhere along the way, someone decided actual storage wasn’t aesthetically pleasing.
And that’s what gets me. It’s never one big thing. It’s the tiny things.
The fake pockets. The blouse that somehow needs fashion tape, a safety pin, and divine intervention to stay in place. The jeans that can fit exactly one molecule of a lip balm. The dress that looks stunning but assumes you’ll never need to carry a house key.
Individually, they’re just mildly annoying.
Together, they’re a reminder that women’s clothes often seem to be designed to look lived in, not to actually be lived in.
And before someone says, “Just carry a handbag.”
No.
That’s not the point.
If you advertise a pocket, I expect a pocket.
Not a denim hallucination.
Not a decorative rectangle.
Not a stitched-up lie.
A pocket.
At what point did the universe decide that being a woman should come with a subscription fee? Fake pockets. More expensive deodorant. “Women’s” razors that cost extra because they’re pink. And trousers that fit perfectly… if you happen to have the proportions of a department store mannequin.
None of these things are life-changing on their own. They’re just tiny inconveniences. But after the fiftieth tiny inconvenience, you start wondering who keeps designing everyday life like it’s a prank.
I refuse to believe that somewhere in a factory, there isn’t a little demonic elf whose entire job is sewing fake pockets onto perfectly good shirts while whispering,“Hehe.”
Anyway, if anyone needs me, I’ll be standing at the sink holding my rings like a Victorian widow because pockets are lies.
