Monthly Archives

February 2016

The Slow and Slothful Rise of Athleisure Wear

I know you’re not working out because I’m not working out.

Yes, we both have these stretchy pants on. And these pink tank tops. And we both have these trainers on. And neither of us have a lick of make up on – actually I do, I came out the womb screaming because I needed mascara, I never leave the house without it – but, we are not working out.

What we are doing is actively avoiding wearing the clothes we used to wear out –  to coffee shops and restaurants and grocery stores – and  pretending to have worked out, or to be going to work out. But really we will not work out. No, the only active thing we will do today is be supporting the rise of what is now known as the “Athleisure Wear” category.

Yes, us humans have done another amazing thing.  It seems we have created an entirely new category of clothing, and an entirely new word, just so we don’t have to work out.  But mainly so we don’t have to get dressed in real clothes anymore.  We can go anywhere in patterned lycra!  Too bad we already went to the moon, ha?

I want to talk about this “Athleisure” term. I first heard it come out the mouth of surgeon friend of mine who saves lives every day. I thought she was making the term up, but being the well read person that she is – she’s a surgeon and she reads this blog, enough said – she told me “athleisure” was in fact a real term. I was both relieved that she hadn’t made it up because surgeons should concentrate when saving lives and leave ridiculous word combinations to people like me – and horrified that there was now a term that essentially makes it okay to walk around in sweats and never sweat.

Of course I sprang into action, sat in my yoga pants, put my feet up and did some serious working out as to where this term came from. The New York Times told me its actually been around since 1976, and as of three months ago was added to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary. Basically we have been trying to get away with wearing sweats everywhere in public since 1976, and we have finally legitimized it. I clearly missed this big news along with the inclusion of “WTF”.

Even the term itself is so lazy it only takes a few letters of “Athletic” and lazily gives up before the finish line.  It’s like it was saying, “Here Leisure, take my letters and make them yours, just as long as it’s on a sofa.” Or maybe the term is actually really honest. Mostly leisure with a little athle… oh I’m exhausted thinking about that, I need a rest.

So you don’t have to get up to read the official definition it as follows: “Casual clothing designed to be worn both for exercising and for general use.” The definition is also so leisurely it can’t be bothered to add any further specificity than “general use”. Or maybe the folks defining the word sat around in basketball shorts and sweats and made a pact that no one could ever know they weren’t leaving the Merriam-Webster building to work out, they were going to KFC and maybe watching ‘The People vs OJ Simpson’. Maybe one person said she did light vacuuming in her athleisure gear but everyone else said, “Um, that’s not glamorous, let’s just say ‘general use’ and go home.” And then they all talked about the price of athleisure gear and how if you pay $150 for Tory Sports lycra pants you should really go out in them – at least to KFC –  not vacuum.

Yes it seems we happily pay $150 for stretchy pants, and an entire athleisurely outfit for over $500. No wonder we don’t want to sweat in them.  We want to go to Nobu.

Even more digging on the term gave me the million dollar figures on how the category is growing. I’m told by Forbes this is in one part because of the emphasis on a fitness conscious lifestyle and in another part because of a desire for comfort.

Aha! And we are back full circle.

We are not working out.  We are just comfortable. As a human race we have indeed fervently, and energetically put all our efforts into creating an entire industry and classification so that we can be comfortable, and live on the neoprene pink trimmed edges of sport without actually doing sport. In short we have outfits we don’t feel bad about ourselves in when go to buy chips from the corner store, and we can look amazing in at Wholefoods. And the fashion industry has whole new ranges of clothing they can make from lycra, put “Sports” on the label of and we’ll buy for prices that will only ever make our bank accounts lean.

Now I’m not saying we all have to be working out all the time (The People vs OJ is on!) but I am saying I do sort of miss people going to restaurants, and coffee shops and hell, even the grocery store, in real clothes. Is it so much effort?

Last week I went to the theater.  I sat next to a woman who was wearing lycra pants.  The fact that an ensemble of actors would make an effort for her entertainment for ninety minutes was not worth the effort of her getting dressed in real pants.  She’d decided to rather be comfortable.   I love a good pair of sweat pants, yoga pants, exercise pants, and I’ll pay good money for them but I’m with Karl Lagerfeld who famously said, “Sweatpants are a sign of defeat.” When we go out, we should really not look defeated.

Also, let’s never forget Crocs became a thing because of comfort.  And now they have a flagship store in Soho, New York amidst Chanel and Prada.  Granted they were not in a million cute designs and didn’t hug our butts, but…

Okay I really need a nap now, if only I had some great new athsleeper wear. Yes I trademarked that.

 

PS Did I mention really smart surgeons (read: one surgeon) subscribe to this blog? You should too. I’d appreciate it. You can read it in your athleisure gear, I don’t really care. I don’t care if you don’t even read it. Just subscribe. The People vs OJ is on!

Also.  Karl  Lagerfeld recently made a line of “Athleisure Wear”.  But it’s mostly totes and pencil skirts.  Keep flying the flag Karl.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I Don’t Share and I Don’t Care.

I don’t write reviews for Yelp because I don’t want you to go where I go, or eat what I eat. There I said it. I’m mean. Selfish. And happy. But really just mean, considering that even in my most delusional state where I believe Judd Apatow is reading my blog because he needs a writing partner for his next movie 99.9% of everyone else reading this is a good friend. Or family. Hi Mom.

Here’s the problem though.

If I tell you about the good stuff, like a good new restaurant, you will go there. Which is fine. You’re a friend. Or my Mom. But then you’ll tell other people – because my taste is impeccable – and they are not my friends. And before I know it I won’t be able to get into that restaurant without a reservation six weeks in advance. Absolutely not fine.

Sharing is caring I hear you say? I disagree, Care Bear. I’m hungry and I want to eat delicious things at the restaurant I told you about. Reviewing is ruining.

Here’s how I realized how mean I am. I went to a new yoga studio recently. It’s fantastic. It’s clean. There’s parking. They don’t play that yoga music that makes you want to kill whales. They got a small write up in Vogue, so Anna Wintour herself may have been there in warrior pose and her hair is still perfect above her skinny Chanel clothed body, so clearly its good. And the Olsens twins went there too. In a study of two they both look amazing. But the class was not full. You see where I’m going with this. As we all went into our final breathing exercise instead of being filled with love and light I was filled with deep panic and dread. Any one one of these yogis could leave this class as heady as I was about this great experience. They could wax lyrically about these amazing instructors; hit the five star review on Yelp, or tell their friends, and my yoga to the celebs space would be gone. I’d be fighting for parking, downward dogging with someone’s perineum closer to my face than it ever should be, or straight back at the yoga place with the whale sounds thinking I know why they name whales things like Moby Dick.

How do I know this to be true? Because when I needed a waxer I took your five star recommend on Yelp. Now you’re sweating into your upper lip hair to get an appointment aren’t you? By hitting five stars you gave me your spot. Apologies, bearded lady. Apologies for also taking your favorite hotel room too – you were right room 209 is “THE BEST!!!!” How are those rooms at the back with no view? And I loved your sandwich shop recommend too. I hope you packed lunch because you’re right, you have to get there early or all the bread is GONE!

Sharing is truly not caring. It’s saying you can have everything good in my life. Just park here and take over.

And let’s not even talk about the press reviewing. That yoga article in Vogue was tiny. But the day my favorite “local” restaurant in New York got a review on Taxi TV I nearly threw myself out of the backseat, but they lock the doors when they’re driving to prevent exactly that kind of thing. (Too bad, I’d seen Transporter and was sure I could do the dive and roll.) What this meant was every New Yorker, and tourist, would  be eating the most delicious lobster pasta in a place that only seated about fifty people. The place I went into at the and of the day and always played the theme tune from “Cheers” when I walked in (in my head) would no longer be mine. And I was right. It got so busy the dish actually went off the menu. Presumably because they felt bad about killing that many lobsters, or because the influx of new people meant they could try new menu items. Do you know how hard it is to live in New York without decadent lobster pasta treats friends?  It stinks like having a dead possum under your house.

That’s the one Yelp review I did write. For a dead animal removal service. Why? Because I had a dead animal under my house. And because the guy was really good. He told us the dead thing making our home smell like a CSI crime scene was a possum just by smelling the air, which is Bear Grylls cool. And, he was right. (Yes, he showed us the posthumous possum.) His price was fair, he was punctual. But most importantly I reviewed him because I don’t need dead animals removed on a daily basis, like I do my yoga, or my table for lobster pasta. So, yes I wrote that review, five stars for West Coast Trappers.

So, what’s the balance here? I keep taking all your good recommends because you’re sprinkling stars around like breadcrumbs to the house of candy/ pasta and I just live in fear you’ll just find my favorites eventually? Truth is time balances everything out. And quality services win. I recently went back to my local lobster hole and I was welcomed with open arms, and 680 calories of deliciousness. And no tourists. A good place is always a good place. I may have to endure a few closer than a comfort yoga classes to support a great new business, maybe with a few inhales and some sharing is caring mantras.

In the mean time,  respect to you unselfish Yelpers. And respect to you secret guarders. I hope you all find pain free waxing, pasta that makes your heart warm, and a yoga studio as good as mine, and Anna’s.

No I’m still not saying where it is. Or the restaurant name.