The Romper Craze: Why Grown Women Dress Like Toddlers

I spotted my first romper on a grown-up in the summer of 2007. Of course, Go Fug Yourself [2] muse Chloe Sevigny had been sporting the unholy adult-sized playsuit since at least April 2005 [3], but she’ll wear anything. This civilian I saw walking down First Avenue in New York was a slender, pretty teenager wearing a skintight denim onesie. I had a single thought: She looks like a slutty toddler. Then last summer, I went to see a concert at McCarren Pool in Williamsburg, Brooklyn—the epicenter of misguided hipster fashion. Every third woman there was wearing a romper. Not shorts. Not dresses. Rompers. Bohemian types wore loose linen ones with leather sandals; American Apparel devotees stuck to soft cotton jumpsuits; the truly fashion forward (or the truly exhibitionist) wore super short denim versions.

By the name alone, it should be obvious that rompers were not originally intended to make adult women look hot. The “romper suit” first appeared on toddlers early in the 20th century. The idea was that babies needed something roomy to play in, and a onesie with bloomer bottoms seemed just the thing. The romper started popping up in women’s fashion in the ’30s. But it was meant mostly for the beach, a kind of fitted sarong. Now, this garment with its origins in the sandbox is considered sophisticated streetwear for the fashion-forward. What does this mean?

Rompers are the latest in a long line of infantilizing sartorial choices, along with ruffle-overloaded baby doll dresses and vintage T-shirts with cartoons on them. Nobody, it seems, wants to grow up anymore. People in their 20s are experiencing an extended adolescence. Grups dress [4] like a version of themselves from 20 years ago. Moms buy Disney pajamas [5] to match their children’s. It’s all pretty embarrassing, except when it’s disturbing. (This would be the sexy jail-bait variety [6].)

And there are practical questions to consider: How do they pee in those things? Are wedgies a constant concern? Does a set of finger paints come with purchase?

Then this spring, the unthinkable occurred. I was trying on what I thought was an eye-catching amethyst dress from the Chilean label Zero+Maria Cornejo. When I attempted to climb into it, I realized that there was a rogue piece of fabric in the middle of the skirt. A label? A pad? No! Quelle horreur! I had unknowingly tried on a romper. [7] And even more disturbing, I liked it. I couldn’t justify paying $598 for toddler clothes, but it was clear that I had fully succumbed to romper Stockholm syndrome.

I decided that I would go on the quest for the perfect playsuit, if such a thing exists. A big part of me still feels like they’re not really meant for anyone over 20 years of age or 100 pounds, but I needed to find out definitively.

Methodology

I tested six rompers, evaluating each using the following criteria:

Versatility (10 possible points): If I’m going to shell out for a romper, it needs to be one that can be worn in several different situations. Could it go to the office, or would it only be appropriate at a beach party? Could it go day to night, or was it exclusively casual? A higher score means it can be worn more frequently.

Price (10 possible points): I loved that Zero+Maria Cornejo, but paying close to $600 for a summertime-only piece of clothing when you live in New York is insanity. The better the value, the higher the score.

Non-Absurdity (10 possible points): I’m a reasonably trendy person, but I have very strict limits when it comes to fashion risk-taking. Does this make me look like an adorable French exchange student or like I just escaped from a fetish club? Japanese comic book? Locked ward? The lower the score, the more likely it hangs in Chloe’s [8] closet.

Attractiveness (30 possible points): This is ultimately the most important question, and is weighted appropriately. Is this something you would compliment me for wearing, or something you’d secretly snark on after I left the room?

Here are the results, from disgusting to darling (click here [9] to launch a slide show).

Topshop tropical playsuit, $90 (not online)

Topshop is literally teeming with rompers. In fact, it has an entire online category for playsuits [10]. I thought that this would be a good spot for reasonably priced items, but I was wrong: Most of them are between $70 and $90. My sister in rompering, Nina Shen Rastogi, tried on this leopard print number [10], but she conveniently “lost” the photos. The images she took of me in this fruity suit [11] somehow survived. However, several spin classes a week do not make my thighs miniscule enough for this to be even remotely flattering. In addition, it’s so short that it could only be worn on the beach, and at $90, it’s way too expensive for something so frivolous.

Versatility: 1
Price: 6
Non-Absurdity: 1
Attractiveness: 12
Total: 20

Hengst peach playsuit, $343 (now on sale at Dear Fieldbinder [12] for $205*)

When I saw this on the rack, I thought it was kicky in a Kate Hepburn, ’40s kind of way. When I tried it on, I realized that there were bloomers sewn into the lining, which make me look like I’m wearing an adult diaper [13]. At $343, it’s a very, very pricey adult diaper. The one good part of this was the back, which you can’t see here: It has an elegant tie and a diamond cutout.

Versatility: 7
Price: 2
Non-Absurdity: 5
Attractiveness: 15
Total: 29

*Dear Fieldbinder is a truly excellent store with a lovely staff. You should still go there even though this romper is a miss!

Steven Alan Stripe Slub Linen Romper [14], $245

This romper was incredibly comfortable—the linen was soft and airy, so I can see how this would be the perfect summer get-up for someone. That someone is not me [15]. The side pockets on the bottom half of the playsuit increase the width of your hips, so anyone who does not have a boyish booty should steer clear. I did love the pattern, though.

Versatility: 5
Price: 4
Non-Absurdity: 8
Attractiveness: 17
Total: 34

Diane von Furstenberg "Heartie" Washed Charmeuse Jumper [16], $255

A lady could wear this romper. I didn’t say should, but she could. The length of the shorts is downright demure, and the shiny blue fabric makes this jumper suitable for work or a night out. However, I kept thinking as I preened in the mirror [17]: This would be far more attractive if it were a dress. I think of rompers as the fashion-forward version of an old-standby dress, but the shorts on this one were so dumpy they were matronly—the antithesis of trend.

Versatility: 9
Price: 4
Non-Absurdity: 8
Attractiveness: 17
Total: 38

A.P.C. Madras Check Jumpsuit [18], $160

OK, I give: This one was pretty damn cute. The pattern is bold without being cloying, and the shorts are just the right length. It has great details, like the epaulets at the shoulder [19], and it made me feel like a Beach Blanket Bingo extra [20]: carefree and squeaky clean! However, I sent this picture to a staunchly anti-romper friend, who said, “I don’t mind the madras one, but I think I had it in the second grade.” Point taken.

Versatility: 4
Price: 8
Non-Absurdity: 9
Attractiveness: 21
Total: 42

Alice + Olivia Trevor Draped Romper [21], $330

This was my favorite of the bunch. It was the only romper that was edgy while still being glamorous, and the shorts were pretty and billowy rather than clingy and uncomfortable. The top had a tasteful, though plunging V [22], so unlike the A.P.C. romper, it was a very grown-up look. I could see myself gliding around town, swathed in black silk, and feeling very chic. However, it should be noted that of all the rompers I tried on, this was the most dress-like, so my true, romper-shunning colors were shining through. Perhaps I’ve snapped out of my Stockholm Syndrome after all.

Versatility: 8
Price: 5
Non-Absurdity: 10
Attractiveness: 26
Total: 49