======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ==== ======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ====
Maybe when you’re feeling lonely you go for a nice run to get your mind in order. Maybe you take out a withdrawal from the spank bank. Maybe you throw on The Office to hang out with old friend Michael Scott. Me? I shop. Just drive my ass over to the Nordstrom Rack or DSW and just max the plastic on clothes I look fresh to death in but probably don’t need, because, you know, there are naked kids in Africa craving an Atlanta Falcons Super Bowl LI Champions shirt.
I found myself recently in a DSW, and while normally the pure heat deals on brown double monks and suede chukka boots would have had my eyes popping out of my head like a goddamn cartoon character, something brought me to the sneaker section. Low and behold, I ended up buying a freshy fresh pair of All Day I Dream About Sex’s (Adidas, for the uneducated) without the intent of ever actually wearing them to work out in. Who. The fuck. Am I.
I’m never – I repeat – never satisfied with my outfits. I could see someone who I think is wearing an 11/10 ‘fit, replicate what they’re wearing down to the freakin’ buttons, and then look at myself and think “nah, they wore it better.” But then, my friends, then Boston’s boy starting dipping his freakishly small toes into the athleisure pool, and I gotta say, I should be modeling this shit.
These fabrics cling to my Jewish DIII fullback frame like nothing I’ve ever seen before. They’re comfortable. The look screams, “IDGAF” which is honestly where I’m at in terms of, well, giving a fuck these days. It’s just too perfect. But it’s all been happening so fast. Like, I thought maybe we’d start out casually, you know, just the tip, just for a second, just to see how it feels. But as soon as I slipped on my first pair of Lulu joggers, you basically need the damn jaws of life to pry them off of me.
I guess it all started a few months ago when I started working from home. There was absolutely zero need to put on jeans. No need to wear a shirt that was designed for an office setting. Really no need to look presentable, you could say. Every day was the same: joggers and some kind of dry fit shirt for maximal comfort and breathability. Your typical athleisure ‘fit.
But when it came time to actually go places, see people, and just be a part of society, I found myself less and less wanting to put on a pair of pants with a zipper, or a shirt that would look weird if worn in the gym. I said to myself, “Kyle,” (that’s what I call myself), I said “Kyle, you’re moving soon. You don’t need to see and be seen around these parts anymore, so who cares if you roll into brunch in that Nike dry fit.” And so I did. And I fucking loved it. And now I’m in the process of moving, and the impression your boy is about to give off to my new peers is one of casual comfort, wearing an outfit I could simultaneously crush a brunch in, anda lift.
So I guess the question is: do I need to scale it back? Like, when I walk into a Nordstrom, do I want to be making bee lines for the athleisure section. Do I want to be going for an Under Armor quarter zip as soon as the brunch text comes in. Because not that there’s anything wrong with all that, but I know the more I indulge it now, the harder it’s going to be to eventually tone it down. And before I know it, it might be time to meet my future ex-wife’s parents for the first time and I’m rolling into the Four Seasons looking like a mannequin behind the front glass of a Nike store.
To start, I think I’ll go with a firm “no athleisure wear after 7:00 p.m. when I leave the house” rule and see where that gets me. Stay tuned..
Image via Shutterstock