Paris isn't made for plus sizes (but I went anyway)

Style notes, cultural shocks, and what surprised me most about traveling in a larger body through the City of Light.

Jun 05, 2025

Every time I travel now, I see the world through the lens of a larger body.

After a few years of living in a size that straddles the line of thin privilege, I’ve learned to anticipate how I’ll be seen or sized up. Even in places that claim to celebrate curves, I’m usually the largest woman in the room.

Le Tour Eiffel from the top of the Arc de Triumph

Some of this has nothing to do with fat or flesh—I am more muscular than most women, with a broader frame. I like to joke that I am built for strongman competitions, though I’ve yet to enter one. (I did compete in Olympic-style weightlifting, however, for most of my 40s.)

But traveling in a larger body brings practical challenges.

It’s almost certain that if I’m outside the continental U.S., I will struggle to find clothes that fit, so I have to pack everything I possibly think I will need. I worry about the space I take up, especially on planes, but sometimes also in cafes and restaurants. I worry about how I will be perceived because of my body size.

So when my daughter and I decided to join my husband on a work trip to Paris, my usual anxieties came along for the ride. After all, the French have a reputation for disliking tourists, especially Americans, and for being chic, fashion-obsessed, and impossibly thin.

But I wasn’t the only one with concerns. My 21-year-old daughter, who is straight-sized with curves, confessed:

“Mama, I’m really worried I’m going to feel bad about my body in Paris.”

Her comment gutted me.

I asked her to share more, but I already knew.

She was worried she’d be comparing her body to the ones she saw, and worse, that others would be judging hers. Even though she’s considered small by U.S. standards, it didn’t matter.

What could I tell her to make her feel better, especially when I felt the same?

Body talk and body truths

In the few years I’ve spent researching body image and working to undo a lifetime of not treating mine with kindness, I’ve learned a few truths:

Body image rarely has anything to do with actual appearance.
Most of us have internalized the desire to be thinner, no matter our size.
Even thin women aren’t immune to the pressure to be thin.

So I didn’t offer platitudes. No “but you’re sooooo small …” I didn’t try to dismiss her concerns either. I just said:

“Yeah, I feel the same. It might come up. Hopefully it won’t.”

One thing I’ve discovered traveling in a larger body (or any body for that matter): it helps to expect that some kind of body stuff will come up on the trip and be ready for it.

When we anticipate body issues, we can take extra steps to counter them. I like to remind myself that it’s both normal and ok to have these kinds of feelings. And that they will pass.

Packing doubts alongside dresses

In the mazes outside the Palace of Versailles

One of my favorite ways to quiet the body image gremlins is by wearing clothes that make me feel beautiful, because let’s face it, nothing looks as good as feeling good in your body. For Paris, that meant renting a few easy, stylish (and stretchy!) midi dresses from Rent the Runway—pieces that could go from day to night. (Psst RTR is one of my favorite body confidence hacks.)

I piled on a few of my favorite pieces of jewelry and wore my go-to airport outfit: a blue gingham tiered sundress, a full-length cardigan, and light grey suede Adidas sneakers. Stylish but comfy was the vibe.

My daughter and I love fashion. Despite our fears, we were genuinely curious—what did French women actually wear? Would their beauty standards be as punishing as we’d imagined?

To our surprise, it wasn’t nearly as bad as we feared. In fact, I left Paris feeling pretty damn good about my own body.

Here's what helped shift my perspective:

French women generally are smaller. Their frames are more petite. This isn’t good or bad—it just is. In a different time, ironically when I was smaller, this would have made me feel insecure, but on this trip, it had the opposite effect. It really drove home the idea that so much of our size is outside of our control.

Culture and style notes from the sidewalk cafes

Here’s what else we noticed on our trip to Paris:

The women aren’t all stick-thin. No one looks like they’re skipping the corner boulangerie, which is reassuring.
Smoking is everywhere. It was shocking. We can't chalk up all the French thinness to good health, unless it includes cigarettes. (I just read that France is banning smoking in public starting July 1, so maybe this is temporary.)

Perfectly unstaged shot of Parisian chocolat chaud

No one eats or drinks on the go. The French love their cafés! This is one lifestyle difference I can get behind. Like the French, we sat down for our coffee, or in my case, a Parisian hot chocolate! It was perfect for people-watching!

Lindens lining the walk toward Luxembourg Palace

The French soak up the sun. On pretty days, the parks and squares were filled with picnickers and sunbathers. Along the Seine in the afternoons, people read books or sipped beer with friends. We did like locals and grabbed a Coke while we rested our feet in the lovely Luxembourg Gardens.
Body diversity exists, just not in stores. As a global city, it was hard to tell how many were locals versus visitors, but I saw a range of body sizes on the streets.
Plus-size clothing is MIA. Not in the vintage boutiques of La Marais, not in the dazzling but overwhelming Bon Marché. Over a slice of cake and cappuccino at the Grand Épicerie next door, I realized there probably wasn’t a single piece of clothing in the entire Bon Marché that would fit me.
Paris has an incredible range of vintage and consignment shops—from high-end to flea-market finds. And there are pop-up markets everywhere on weekends. While I wouldn’t be able to wear the clothes, shoes and bags still fit, especially when they’re high fashion for a fraction of retail. For this reason alone, I must return.
Louis Vuitton “trunk building” on avenue Champs-Élysées
Everyone wears sneakers. Adidas Sambas and Veja Campos reigned supreme on the streets. Ballet flats and sandals made occasional appearances.
The classic tan trench is the outerwear staple. I spied it everywhere. The weather made layering a requirement (though this perimenopause hot flash mama mostly stuck to short sleeves).
Navy and white stripes are so overdone. I spotted them on more tourists than locals.
Nothing screams tourist like a pair of shorts. The French women favored dresses. Yes, even with their sneakers.
Color is so over. Or maybe it’s just for summer? While pink popped up in boutiques, olive was about as bold as it got on the streets. Mostly everyone wore black. The exception? I wore a bright orangey-red Madewell dress to Versailles, which earned me compliments from our tour guide because I was so easy to find.
Makeup is minimal. Women looked more natural (though what passes as natural can sometimes be deceiving). I didn’t see a lot of Botox or filler. Women had wrinkles. I didn’t realize how “done” we women are in the U.S. (or at least in Texas).
Practical is plentiful. Even at the ultra-chic Monsieur Bleu restaurant overlooking the Seine and Eiffel Tower, ponytails were paired with designer bags and dresses.
There’s room for creative. In the artsy Le Marais arrondissement, the fashions were more avant-garde. And some of the most daring outfits were on older women. I loved this.

The downside of being plus-sized in Paris

It’s not all wine and roses. While I expected some challenges, I was still genuinely bummed to discover that plus-size fashion in Paris is almost nonexistent. An XL there—which I never found—supposedly fits more like a U.S. large.

(For what it’s worth, I later read that the best places for plus-size shopping include the high-end Marina Rinaldi, the upbeat, size-inclusive Make My Lemonade, and the retail chain Monoprix.)

Even though I made it work, navigating the compact spaces of cafés wasn’t always easy. In one packed bistro, a waiter pulled an entire table away from the wall just so I could get into the banquette. A less confident woman might have crumbled, but it actually made getting in way easier.

And in a moment so ridiculous I could only laugh about it: At our first hotel, I attempted to bathe in the narrowest bathtub I’ve ever encountered. My hips literally wouldn’t fit fully seated, so I had to angle myself in there. Getting out was an adventure!

Unexpected kindness in Paris

And finally, though it has little to do with beauty or fashion, what struck me most in Paris was the warmth we received. Everyone we encountered (minus one très passive-agressive waiter) was kind and helpful.

On our first day, a woman we passed on the street gave us unsolicited directions on the best way to Notre Dame.

I speak only a little French, but as soon as I made an effort, nearly everyone eagerly switched to English. At the Palace of Versailles, the woman helping us at the macaron counter almost looked hurt when I asked: “Parlez-vous anglais?”

In a city where I expected to feel judged for my size (and Americanness), I felt surprisingly accepted. And when I asked my daughter how she felt once we were home, she didn’t hesitate:

“Better than I thought I would!”

That, more than the fashion or the food or even le Tour Eiffel, was the real souvenir.

I'd love to hear from you:

Have you ever traveled in a body that made you feel out of place or surprisingly at home? What did you notice about beauty standards, style, or kindness at the place you last visited?