Updated April 22, 2025
There are few things in skiing more miserable than ski boots that don’t fit. Ask anyone who’s had a good powder day ruined by numb toes or fresh blisters.
And the worst part? Half the time, the sizing advice that got you there came from someone trying to sell you boots in 15 minutes flat.
And yes, I snowboard. But I also ski. Grew up doing both, spent seasons in Europe and North America, and have ruined just as many days in bad ski boots as I have on questionable bindings. So if you’re wondering why a snowboarder is ranting about ski gear—it’s because I’ve got the boot trauma to prove it…
In fact, I’ve owned more bad boots than I care to admit. Bought too big. Bought too small. Trusted flex ratings. Ignored shell fit. Took advice from some guy who only skis in the dome at Hemel. So, here’s what I wish someone had told me way back when.
Bigger Is Not Safer—It’s Just Worse
Let’s kill this one right away: buying a size up for comfort is a trap. You’ll feel okay walking around the shop. But the second you try to edge or pressure a turn at speed? That loose fit will betray you.
Your toes will slam forward. Your heels will lift. You’ll ski defensively. You’ll wonder why your shins are rapidly deteriorating.
The shop might tell you to go for a 28.5 because your foot measures 28.5. What they don’t tell you is that ski boot sizing is about shell fit, not your sock drawer. In reality, you might need a 27.5 with a heat-molded liner and proper footbed. You just don’t know it yet because you haven’t had a good boot fit.
Shell Fit: The Size That Matters
Want to know if a boot is actually the right size? Pull the liner out and do a shell fit.
- Put your bare foot in the plastic shell.
- Slide it forward until your toes just brush the front.
Look at the gap behind your heel.
1–2 cm = performance fit (tight, aggressive, but breaks in beautifully)
2–2.5 cm = comfort fit (casual resort riders, still decent control)
3+ cm = clown shoes
Most rental boots? Over 3 cm. People who find their boots painful are probably in something too big and too soft.
Flex Ratings: Lying Since Forever
Ski boot flex ratings are marketing fiction (bold statement I know). A 100 flex in one brand could feel like a 120 in another—or a 90 after two weeks use.
And let’s be honest: half the people buying “stiff” 130 flex boots haven’t skied fast enough to justify it. I was one of them. I looked like I was standing in concrete.
Your flex should match how you ski—not your ego, not the shop guy’s suggestion, and definitely not your mate on 184cm GS skis who thinks stiff boots are a personality trait.
Get a Footbed. No, Seriously.
Yes, it feels ridiculous spending another $40–$100 after dropping hundreds on boots. But custom or even semi-custom footbeds are the difference between boots that kind of work… and boots that feel like they were made for your feet.
They reduce fatigue. Improve control. Stop your arch collapsing mid-turn. And more importantly, they make you feel like you actually know how to ski (though results may vary).
Signs You’ve Got the Wrong Size (Because You Probably Do)
- You’re clawing your toes for control
- You can’t feel your toes by lunch
- You get shin bang even when skiing mellow
- You have to crank buckles all the way in to stop heel lift
You’re better at walking in them than skiing in them
None of these are normal. They’re just common.
What I Wear Now
For reference: I measure 27.8 mondo. I’m in a 27.5 Salomon X Pro 100 with custom footbeds and an intuition liner. The shell fit is just under 2cm. First few days? Bit tight. After that? Magic. Edge control, comfort, no black toenails. My boots have finally stopped being the limiting factor.
And yes—I tried going softer, roomier, more “comfortable.” Didn’t last.
Final Thoughts
Ski boots are the worst part of skiing—until you get a pair that actually fits. Then they’re invisible. That’s the goal.
Don’t buy the size that feels good in the shop. Don’t trust flex charts. Don’t skip the shell fit. And for the love of knees and shins everywhere, don’t just copy what your mate rides.
Your feet are weird. So are mine. Own it—and get boots that work for you.
