When I was a little kid my Dad had a tendency to buy stuff off the TV late at night — Joy Mangano’s Miracle Mops, a Wok, a pizza stone, Time and Life CDs, etc. — and I truly and deeply loved to mock him for this. But yesterday, when I detailed my clothing purchases from TikTok shop, I was only telling part of the story. I’m in something of an infomercial era of my own.
In the last couple of weeks I have made a pair of getting-dressed related TikTok shop purchases that represent the main shifts in my current shopping philosophy: I need to spend less money and also I hate everything I already own. These relatively low-cost items are designed to — in theory — quickly and easily alter the clothing I already have. There is a metric ton of this shit on TikTok and it all almost gets me always. Ta-da!
The first is the Croptuck ($10.99). If I was served TikShop ads for my linen pants or slutty milkmaid dress 97 million times, I saw the Croptuck at least 194 million times before I finally gave in. It’s a band that promises to multiply your wardrobe by shortening any shirt, through the magic of what feels like a big adjustable hair tie you stick under your top.
The second doesn’t have a cute name (the TikTok listing is “Including 100pcs Invisible Color Metal Buckle & 1 Count Manual Pressure Pliers,Household Sewing Accessories for DIY Handicraft Clothing & Hat,Buttons & Pliers Tool Kit,Seamless Stitching Sewing Kit Tools,Sewing Supplies Crafts” ($8.99)), but it’s basically heavy duty hole punch with metal buckle attachments that I hoped would solve an actual problem I had created for myself.
Towards the end of this summer, when it was time to put hard pants on again, I found that my pants had gotten tight. I think we can all agree that was probably the pants fault, and had nothing to do with my entirely treat-based system of emotional management. When I ordered new bottoms, though, I slightly overcorrected by buying pants that feel like they’re one skipped meal away from falling off of my body. Even the drawstring Gap “horseshoe” jeans included in Friday’s newsletter are problematically large, such that when I draw the strings I’m yanking and yanking like Rose’s corset-tying mom from Titanic.
When I saw easy application snaps that could resize pants while scrolling through TikTok a little intoxicated, I only had to see that cursed promo one time.
Let’s see how they work!
After the Croptuck arrived, I realized that not only do I not need most of my shirts to be cropped, I don’t even want them to be. “Cropped” as a fashion value doesn’t really speak to where I personally am in my age and body journey? Plus, if I’m looking for a blouse to have a tucked in appearance, most of the time the extant waist of my pants or skirt is right there for tucking needs. According to the product’s official account, it alleviates the feminine need to shove your chunky pullover into your bra, but I have to say I have never felt that impulse. Still, here is the sweater I had in mind when hitting “buy.”
Objectively this sweater (from the Gap) is kind of long.
And here it is Croptucked:
I would never try to claim this isn’t shorter. It certainly is!
I don’t know, this feels bunchy and dumb to me? I’m not sure the photo is really capturing how underwhelming if technically accurate the results are. The factual success of this item seems somewhat unlikely to impact my use of it.
The unnamed pressure pliers (which I would probably call the Snap Punch, so if you’re from the manufacturer, please feel free to send me money for that name) arrived only this week, and I have been afraid to use them. Despite my 12 whole hours of pottery class, I am not exactly crafty as a rule.
Here’s what arrived:
As advertised, basically!
It did not come with directions.
Maybe for some people what you do next is entirely intuitive, but I was a little lost. What needs to face which way and how? After searching “manual pressure pliers” in the originating app and watching many, many advertorial clips declaring that “whoever invented this deserves applause and congratulations” I finally thought I might understand which little metal piece went where for what.
I tested it out on a tote bag I got from buying too many bagels one time. I managed to line up where I wanted the snaps to go, attach them to either side with the little colored fastener, and clip them together. It was very exciting. Then I thought, perhaps I will open the bag again:
The snaps said, “noooo don’t separate us!”
This may well have been user error, but I am the only user I have, and I’m unwilling to try this on pants I basically like. Plus I think I prefer that sweater long. The end!!