Sizing
The letter on a belt means nothing, and we can prove it on our own labels
We print size ladders across our catalogue that directly contradict one another. A letter stamped on a strap is only a label, and the only reliable number is the measured waist in inches.
Our own charts tell different stories
We cut straps and we punch tracks, but our printed tables do not agree with each other. Across our own pages, 67 distinct size ladder rows define what a small or a large ought to mean. Because these charts grew separately over time, they present conflicting rules under our own name. A buyer looking at two different straps from our bench will find two different definitions for the very same span of leather.
The result is an internal mess that we own completely. At 28 separate waist measurements, our own ladders assign different letters to the exact same physical span. We do not blame outside factories or industry habits for this confusion. We put these charts on paper ourselves, and the friction begins right on our own labels before the strap even reaches a pair of trousers.
Where the letters fall apart hardest
The sharpest breakdown happens at 26 inches. In our own tables, that single waist measurement is called by 4 different letters: S, XXS, XS, M. Depending on which row you read, the very same strip of hide is labelled as an extra small or stretched into a medium. That spread proves how little a stamped alphabet character tells you about how a strap actually fits around your body.
Letters are elastic words that expand or shrink to fit whatever marketing tier was built that season. When a single measurement spans four separate letter grades in our own workshop charts, the letter stops acting as a unit of measurement entirely. It becomes a loose tag that obscures the real length of the strap, turning everyday sizing into an unnecessary guessing exercise.
Centimetres add another layer of naming
To make matters more tangled, 17 of those ladder rows print a centimetre figure alongside the standard sizing. This introduces a second naming system into the very same grid. Rather than clarifying the true span, it often adds another conversion step where numbers round off unevenly and create further mismatches between the strap and the trouser loop.
A centimetre count ought to be rigid, yet when stacked inside a chart built on loose letter buckets, it simply mirrors the confusion of the row above it. We print these dual tables, but we know they multiply the places where an inch gets lost in translation. The extra text gives the illusion of technical precision while repeating the same underlying conflict.
The true waist runs in inches
The real span of what we make runs from 26 to 56 inches. Within that range, 60 listings state the physical waist they fit in plain numbers. That measured distance is the only constant fact across our entire workbench. A tape pulled around your waistband does not shift depending on which chart is open on your screen.
We make ratchet tracks with small teeth and prong straps with punched holes, and every single one functions on linear distance alone. Ignore the letters stamped into the back of the hide, including the ones we printed ourselves. Measure your actual waistband with a tape, find the true span, and treat the letter as nothing more than an arbitrary name.
A piece of leather has a length in inches, and every letter stamped beside it is just an opinion we failed to standardise.
