I’ve been curious about the Quince brand for a while. It makes sense: I love basics made with higher-quality materials. And those prices, wow! Is this the missing middle-tier retailer that people need? Well… hmm. Those prices seem a little sketchy. I mean, as Clotheshorse often reminds us, “It’s cheap because someone didn’t get paid!” Sure, they have a little chart at the bottom of each listing that compares the Quince item to some “comparable” brands, and they claim they’re using ethical sources and factories, but I still wonder who’s getting screwed in their supply chain. The sheer amount of podcast sponsoring they do makes me wonder how much VC money they’ve taken. On the other hand, they don’t introduce new items constantly, so the company is more like slow fashion than fast fashion in that respect. Seems like a mixed bag, in other words.

I don’t usually shop from brands that don’t carry plus sizes (even if I fit in their straight sizes), so Quince wasn’t on my radar for a long time. I have a complicated relationship with ready-to-wear sizing, as I’m short and often fall between straight and plus sizes (what used to be called an “inbetweenie”). Quince finally extended their sizes and now has some garments available in plus sizes up to 24W. I don’t consider that very inclusive, but most brands don’t manage that much. (They’re no Universal Standard, obviously.)

Anyway, my curiosity got the better of me, so I decided to jump in and try Quince. I didn’t rush to their website and plunk down my virtual currency, though. I’m still me. I looked on the secondhand market first, as I always do.

First of all, there was a surprising amount of NWT merchandise on eBay and Poshmark. That seems a red flag for such a new brand, in my opinion, especially one with a seemingly generous return policy. Did folks way overbuy after being hyped by influencers — or do the clothes have an iffy fit? By “iffy fit,” I mean the clothes are almost right, but not quite, so you don’t return them because you think you’ll wear them, but they don’t really feel right, so you never reach for them, and they sit in your closet for a long time without ever being worn. And then you sell them on eBay or Poshmark because you know they’re supposedly nice, and you have this vague guilt that you couldn’t get those effortlessly cool linen pants to work for you. Am I reading too much into this? Maybe. I don’t know.

Anyway, I shopped secondhand first. (It’s a lifestyle!) I found a new-with-tags washable silk v-neck tank top (this one), and a while later, I came across a pair of new-with-tags casual linen trousers (these, I think). I knew I would wear both if they fit. (Layering tanks and weather-appropriate loose lounge pants were on my missing items list from my wardrobe evaluation earlier this year.) The prices were pretty good for NWT, so I ordered ’em and breathlessly awaited my parcels. (Slight exaggeration.)

My verdict: Both pieces are indeed slightly “off” and had weird fit issues. I didn’t expect to be wowed as neither garment was petite-sized, but my height wasn’t the issue. I ordered an XL for both garments, as the size was closest to my measurements, especially in the hips. (The smallest plus size would have been too big.) However, XL is their top straight size, and from the fit of the silk tank, I think they use a fairly shoddy grading method. (Reminder: Grading is making a size smaller or larger from a medium-sized template.) The armholes are enormous on this tank and show about two inches of my bra band. I’d like to point out that I almost never buy tank tops in petite sizes from ready-to-wear brands. Even Target makes tanks with reasonable armholes in XL and XXL sizes, so I don’t think this is exclusively height-related. However, plenty of retailers grade sizes longer as they grade them wider. Adult bodies don’t get taller even when they get wider, so this seems kind of crazy, but you do come across this grading style all the time in both ready-to-wear and home sewing patterns. More accurate grading methods are available, so I was disappointed to see this.

The pants had a strange issue that I also recently encountered in a pair of Madewell jeans*. The waistband sits in a nonsensical way. It’s high-waisted, literally above my waist, in the front. But then it barely reaches my waist in the back. Yes, I have generous hips, but I literally choose trousers based on the hip measurement. I’m not pulling down trousers with a glorious, bootylicious bubble butt. And yet I have Erkel in the front and low-rise party girl in the back. What the hell? This seems like poor drafting to me, as though they’re designing for theoretical humans and have never encountered an actual body before. Similar to every Eileen Fisher bottom I’ve tried, the elastic waist was much too loose, especially since it sat so high in the front that it circled a place at least 2 inches larger than my actual waist. The only part that was as expected was that the “cropped” length was full length on my 5’2″ self — the sole height-related issue. (Also, why is there only one back pocket? Is this just a cost-saving measure? Why not leave the back pockets off altogether? I don’t get this! The front pockets are fine and fully functional, though.)

Now, I can make both of these garments work for me because I sew. I plan to take in the armholes on the silk tank by creating little inverted pleats at the underarm seam line, a strategy I’ve used on other RTW tanks. (This will only work because I’m a “pear” and have a bust measurement that allows me to take in the tank this way.) The waistband of the trousers seems to be constructed in a way that will make it fairly easy to replace the elastic, unlike when I replaced the elastic in those Gap woven joggers last year, so I’ll whip out my seam ripper and do that. I may also hem the pants, but I may not. I think I’ll wear them with the length as-is for a while and decide later.

Now that I’ve soundly criticized these pieces, let’s talk about the good stuff. Both garments do appear to be made with quality fabric. The linen seems to be as advertised: That softer, nicer European linen that has longer fibers, so is a little more resistant to wrinkling. Although I think the elastane content of the silk is unnecessary, that little bit of ease probably does help smooth over some of the fit issues, and it is mostly silk and very soft. (Caveat: I will carefully hand wash my tank, but I expect the high Spandex content may make the tank wear faster. Time will tell.) The tank has French seams, which I have not seen in a mid-range ready-to-wear item since the 1990s, and carefully applied binding. Absolute kudos for that! The trousers have some typical serged seams and some bound seams/edges — again, I was surprised to see this higher-end technique. The bound seams do seem to be the most stressed, so even this hybrid finishing was thoughtful in its placement. I mentioned the waistband construction above, and it may have been designed that way on purpose because the elastic is likely to wear out before the linen does. There isn’t any stitching through the elastic, as is now common on ready-to-wear, so I do wonder if this was an intentional design choice to make the garment last longer. (Does anyone out there have any insight?) With all of these details, it seems they really are trying to earn that “affordable high-end basics” reputation in some ways.

My Quince experience was definitely a mixed bag, but you never know until you try something, so I’m glad I found these secondhand, and I will wear both pieces after I’ve altered them. (I actually have worn the pants at home, loose waistband and all, and I can confirm that they’re very comfortable, for all their weirdness.) I’m still curious about their bedsheets, but I probably won’t rush out and buy them, especially not retail. I hope the natural fiber hype around Quince indicates a larger swelling consciousness of how lousy polyester is for our clothes and our planet, but I guess we’ll see on that front. In my opinion, any brand that isn’t trying to out-Shein Shein is ahead of the game, and although Quince is probably not all that sustainable in the real world, at least they’re trying.

I mean, that’s what we’re all doing, right? Trying? Good for Quince for trying. That’s it. That’s my review.

*People brag about Madewell, but I was firmly not wowed and have never worn the jeans.