Before lululemon invaded Boston several years ago, giving tightly-wound Marlborough Street mommies a slightly “fashionable” excuse to wear yoga pants all day, they were extending the same service to Canadians in the early part of the 2000s. As a lazy college student in Montreal with a deep-seated appreciation for any article of stretchy clothing that can be “dressed up” to wear out in public, I looked to lululemon as the go-to destination for all of my sartorial needs. Despite the fact that I hadn’t stepped foot into a yoga studio, I sure did look the part—groove pants, scuba hoodie and gym bag as a school bag, all the way down to my hair elastics and underwear. I was a lululemon addict—minus the actual yoga part.
Some may have accused me of trying to “look the part” of a yoga enthusiast or even trying to aspire to be one, but in reality, I wasn’t trying to fool anyone into thinking I was remotely athletic. On the contrary. Rather, I just liked stretchy pants and felt that if I paid $100 for them, I had every right in the world to wear them to class, to the grocery store, to meetings—basically anywhere other than a gym or yoga studio.
Though my wardrobe has seen the last of its lululemon-as-Monday-through-Friday wear, I still browse the Pru store looking for glorified workout clothes that can be worn as normal clothing. Call it the downfall of our culture’s sense of appropriate dressing, but hey, at least I’m not rocking pajama jeans.
Posted by Amelia