I first heard about Stitch Fix from a friend, who basically described the subscription service as a lark. You join the club, answer some questions, and get a box of cool clothes and accessories picked out especially for you. Sounded cute and potentially helpful. But if I—who know very well the pitfalls of certain styles on my frame—can’t effectively buy clothes online, what hope does some poor random stylist have using my tweets as reference, right?

Wrong.

Though dubious, I decided what’d I have to lose? $20 for a “styling fee.” If I liked what they sent me, that $20 would be put toward my purchase. If not, eh. You win some you lose some.

How It Works
You build a profile on Stitch Fix by answering a bunch of questions. Typical stuff like your height, weight, and dress size. More specific stuff includes how you prefer your clothes to fit and what you think of some sample ensembles, like those below:

You can also determine what kind of clothes you’d like to receive (Business Casual, Cocktail, Laid Back Casual, Date Night), what price range you’re aiming for, and what items you’d never like to be sent. For example, I opted out of earrings and heels, because can’t wear ‘em, won’t wear ‘em.

For a more personal touch you can also include a note and share a Pinterest fashion board or your Twitter handle. I included my Instagram too because I’m not sure gifs of Oscar Isaac dancing would be of much use to my stylist.

Submit and WHOOSH! I was told my first “Fix” would arrive the next week.

How It Worked Out For Me
Along with a rundown of the pieces, some outfit suggestions and a price list, the five items arrived in a gently wrapped bundle. I began to paw through them like a refined animal, then my heart sank as I eyed denim.

Real Talk: I’m 5’2” but not size 2, which means buying jeans is a goddamn chore. Usually, I mentally prepare for a week beforehand, reminding myself in oh-so-casual moments that I’m petite and perfect just the way I am. Then I try on so-called “petite” jeans that I either can’t get up over my thighs or that stretch right past my ankles and right off my feet. And so I howl with the fury I dream of targeting at the spiteful souls of clueless clothes designers around the world.

Anyhow, I plucked the “exclusive Stitch Fix” jeans from Just Black out of the box and smirked. Sure. Fine. Let’s get this over with. But behold! I pulled them up over my petite legs and they ended just below my ankles!

WHAT DARK MAGIC IS THIS!? I’ve never owned a pair of jeans that fit me this well this instantaneously.

With relish I tossed on the first shirt, a black and white striped knit top, which was light and flowy, funky and featured a slit up both sides that gives it just a bit of edge. I was impressed. I may have danced about my kitchen. That may have happened. The fabric for the top might be perfection for spins. Maybe.

I topped the outfit with the box’s statement necklace and BOOM! I had a look!

I was practically dizzy with glee at this point, and tossed on the faux leather jacket my stylist had sent along. Style-wise, it was on point. I dug the off-center zip and its Jessica Jones vibe. But it was a bit bulky on my petite frame, and the fabric was too light to function. Just look what happened when I raised my arms. Sexy.

Last I tried on the blue cowl neck top. I liked the bold color, but that’s about it. The fit was clingy and makes me seem heavier than I am, and the cowl neck…I have never in my life been able to pull off this look. It always feel like I’m wearing it wrong, or it’ll swallow me whole.

You have three days to make your choices before you’ll be billed for the lot, but i knew what I wanted. The necklace was cute, but I already own similar ones. So I packed it up with the jacket and the cowl-tastrophe into the prepaid envelope. It’s already addressed, so all I got to do is drop it in a mailbox. Now, I return to the website to fill out my satisfaction survey.

Logging back into your account, you’ll see a big teal “Checkout” button. Click it and you’ll get a breakdown of what you were sent, and toggles that will allow you to rate them and tell Stitch Fix what you’re keeping, what you’re sending back, and why.

Complete the process, and schedule if you want another fix next month. Boom.

Conclusion

It was fun to take the quiz and play around on Pinterest to make a board I thought would help my stylist, Brittney. She did a great job of picking out pieces that appealed to my personal style, and even more remarkably a couple that fit me like a damn glove. Honestly, the jeans alone are enough to keep me coming back. I’m stoked I gave it a go, eager to bust out my new skinny jeans (with black ankle booties per Brittney’s recommendation) and get my next Fix.

If the concept intrigues you even modestly, I’d urge you to try Stitch Fix. All you’ve got to lose is $20 and some idle time. But what you have to gain are some exclusive fashion finds and a solid excuse to play runway once a month.

Kristy Puchko lives in perpetual fear that ice cream will become self-aware New York City.

Kristy Puchko is the film editor of Pajiba. You can follow her on Twitter.