I discovered my first pair of men’s Hokas cussed-and-cross-eyed like I stumble upon most everything; half on accident while poking through a table I almost skipped because the shoes looked scuffed up and clearly worn in and I figured somebody’s old gym pair wasn’t worth getting my hands dirty for. Bought it anyway and discovered that randomly chosen pair of men’s Bondi 8s had been worn maybe three times, were a size 9, and still had the tag glued down inside the tongue from whatever running shop in Ohio was killing it on inventory this past winter. I tried them on in the gravel parking lot next to the table, half out of curiosity because I’m a women’s 10.5 and knew going in that a men’s 9 was about the same length shoe wise. I didn’t expect them to feel better than the Bondis I had laced up at home waiting patiently under my bed with maybe forty miles on them, the pair of women’s shoes I’d already somewhat resigned myself to just feeling like they would forever: sloppy in the heel, cramped up front because that’s just apparently what your feet get you.
That first pair was the rabbit hole I had no idea I wanted to crawl down, which I guess is how most of my smarter life decisions begin. I went on to buy two more pairs of men’s Hokas over the following months, one new, one from a woman who runs the very table I’ve been shopping at for years and just so happened to know I liked the brand but had been subtly looking out for my size when I wasn’t asking because she’s that awesome. Three pairs of men’s running shoes for someone who literally cannot recall running farther than the parking lot when I first started down this hoka rabbit hole years ago.
That’s not a sentence I ever thought I’d write when I began buying old army jackets ten years ago, let alone still be hustling to this day.
The last gap nobody talks enough about
First, let’s talk about the one thing that actually matters and isn’t the stupid part people can’t seem to stop arguing about online: size conversion. Sure, is it “allowed?” Yeah, obviously. No, nobody’s carding you at the shoe rack. Do men’s shoes fit better? For me, hell yes. Hoka makes both men’s and women’s versions of their shoes on different lasts. Lasts are, for the uninitiated, the actual mold each shoe is formed around, not just a women’s sized shoe blown up or shrunk down to the next set of measurements. A women’s Hoka will usually have a narrower heel and slightly taller instep to fit around what, on average, women’s feet tend to look like. Except they don’t always. My heel does not need as much taper as the women’s shoe gives it. My arch isn’t quite as high as that last thinks it is. Meaning a shoe in my actual size will often feel loose in the wrong places, tight in others, and I thought that was just how running shoes were meant to feel for two years before I tried on a men’s pair.
The stack height may change too, sometimes the men’s version of a shoe will feel ever so slightly more firm underfoot because it’s built with a higher average weight in mind. Men have more cushion in them on average because men, on average, weigh more than women. It’ll feel like less mush, sure, but not quite as brutal as you’re maybe picturing and just ends up feeling like your foot can still slide around after a mile like the shoe retained its shape instead of compressing down. If you’re like me and on your feet more often than actually putting in miles, that slight firmness feels more supportive than stiff. Toe box is the other part everyone underrates. The men’s version runs wider through the entire forefoot. Feet aren’t just long or short, you’ve got width up there too. Narrow? Congratulations, women’s Hokas will probably fit you just fine. You’ve got wide feet. Bad bunions. Toes that like their space. Suddenly that men’s foam opens up relief where the women’s version was quietly bothering you your entire run without you ever realizing your problem was the shoes.
What you gain and lose when you do the math
The number thing every homewash quoting online mentions but nobody dives into: women’s size minus 1.5 is likely your men’s equivalent is great for a starting point and terrible if you think that means everything’ll fit as perfectly as your math says it should. My women’s 10.5 straight up converted to a men’s size 9 fit me just fine on the Bondi. Same math on a pair of Cliftons at an actual Running Warehouse had me landing barely too large and the dude ringing me up, who’d probably had this exact conversation with the tenth snarky woman that week, just shook his head and told me like half the store’s customers the sizing conversion is just a generalized rule of thumb, not written in stone, try on the half size down as well. He wasn’t wrong. I felt silly being so stubborn about my foot not fitting a basic formula when I’ve preached my whole shoplifting career that you trust how things fit your body over any number on a tag. Companies aren’t magic and they can get you close, but your body doesn’t play by someone else’s rules just because.
And let’s not kid ourselves here, money is another part of this nobody wants to whisper aloud. Color-wise men’s will almost always favor the less showy colors, black, gray, that burgundy Hoka thinks is navy but it’s not. The majority of colors you’ll find exclusive to women’s runs are more expensive for reasons the company will never explicitly tell you. There’s no defect looking at men’s. Buying men’s gives you more bang for your buck at resale tables as well; more men buy hiking boots and stop hiking in them after a year than women, anecdotally speaking from rummaging through tables at least, which means more selection and a higher chance of snagging that lightly worn pair at ⅔ off.
I’m not going to sit here and tell you that every woman needs to take my exact path.
Feet vary wildly and mine clearly refuse to wear anything society tells them should look good. But I also don’t think asking the question is the problem here. When I started this journey I wasn’t wondering if I was allowed to buy half sizes up men’s shoes. I was wondering if there was a better fit for my foot out there than what was being sold to women at retail prices. It just so happened that what fit me best was a half size up and marketed towards men. Look at the last. Try before you subscript to whatever size chart some salesperson hands you on opening day. And please don’t ever feel embarrassed by the shoe that fits you best wasn’t advertised at you to begin with.
Callum has spent ten years digging through car boot sales and charity shops in Glasgow. He writes about vintage menswear and old workwear, and he’s happiest when he’s found something good buried at the back of a rail.
