Exercise gear. When was the last time you wore it out and about?
I actually wore it this morning. While running. And sweat in it. After three days straight of the same, it smells. Each piece of it.
I then returned home, had a shower, and got dressed for the working day. On my way to work, I passed countless – actually, four – women donning exercise gear while conducting their day-to-day. There they were, up the street, buying coffee, eating breakfast. At lunchtime more still: shopping for groceries, ducking past the bank, chatting with friends.
Encased in lycra and other fabrics similar to. Women. Everywhere. In zip-up and breathe-easy sweat shirts, crop tops and racer backs. Teamed with flashy Nikes, crisp whites, clean and bright.
They looked good. And from where I sat, smell certainly was not a problem.
I wanted to be a part of it. This morning. At the weekend. Last week. All the time.
But taking exercise gear from exactly that and into street wear, has not been a move I have been able to achieve. While some would argue anyone can look good in a decent pair of sports-branded lycra pant, I believe my bottom proves this claim a lie.
I’ve bought lycra and I wear it regularly. Just to exercise is all. I may pride myself on being a fashion visionary (another post, another time) and stepping before the pack, but on this, I’m lengths behind and slowing still.
I’ve tried, gallantly, to don exercise as outer, but I don’t look good and there’s that odour issue. When one wears exercise gear to do exactly that, what do they wear when out and about? Is it a case of multiple options and my needing to hit up LuluLemon at Highpoint to resolve the situation? Is navigating the carpark the only thing standing between myself and a comfortable weekend coffee excursion?
This comfort thing is interesting. How long have we been told one must suffer for their fashion, and yet everywhere I turn these days, I’m faced with the very flexible fact that fashion can be exactly that.
But, after trying solidly – at the supermarket, at Baby Bunting, on a coffee run – I’ve determined I must bow out. One’s strength in fashion is often linked to knowing where one can fly, but also where limits lie.
I know I can wear a high waist. Not all can. But lycra while drinking coffee, I definitely cannot do. The exercise as outer wear race is not one I’ll win. So I’ll opt for comfort for my run, for flex and breathability. And when I coffee, I’ll don denim or dress, stocking and boot. I may be envious yet, but I’ll look right just looking like me.
And please, don’t laugh at my arse if you see me running Princes Park.