Henry David Thoreau complained about the mania for buying new clothes for every activity. "Beware of all enterprises that require new clothes, and not rather a new wearer of clothes."
Like many people, I have a nagging feeling there’s something intrinsically wrong about buying special exercise clothes. Beyond owning a good sports bra and running shoes, shiny sportswear smacks of hubris. While trying to become a new person, attention to appearance can seem trivial as well as a direct invitation to failure.
I bought this Zucca top last year. I loved it for the kimono cut of its sleeves and the lightness of its syntheic fabric. For something that’s essentially a sweatshirt, it was killingly expensive. It also immediately developed serious bobbles and snags and is now yoga-wear.
Funny thing is, I don’t mind too much. As exercise-clothes go it’s better than the Marmite giveaway t-shirt I used to wear. The cut remains fantastic and, besides, there’s something virtuous about wearing something old to practice yoga. I love it when my exercise-wear develops a fray. Each hole spells effort, each rip, sweated experience. Sportswear is the Dorian Gray of the wardrobe: as it deteriorates, the wearer emerges shining by contrast.
Thoreau advised, "If you have any enterprise before you, try it in your old clothes." That’s a sound principle when it comes to yoga. But I’m not enough of a Thoreau fan to believe that he wasn’t just a little too proud of his rips and tears, and that the desire for old clothes can be just another kind of vanity-trap.
A new wearer in old clothes? Why not a new wearer in new clothes? After all, I’ve earned them, as they said in the Fame opening credits, ‘in sweat’…
Do you wear cast-offs to exercise, or does only shiny new lycra do get you up and running?
For more about the 80/20 project look here.