Have We Lost the Ability to Dress Ourselves? The Cost of (Ath)leisure
- Ayushi Budhraja
- 5 days ago
- 4 min read
The term 'athleisure' is an oxymoron. While we run, jump, and sweat over all the responsibilities of the current social landscape, how much leisure can we truly afford—in the literal sense of money?
The increasing popularity of athleisure is encouraged through the interaction of luxury brands. See Loewe and On's collaboration, which started in 2022 and is still very much alive today. And see New Balance x Miu Miu, a collab now in its fourth year, most recently dressing Coco Gauff on court, because apparently the line between tennis player and Miu Miu girl was always thinner than we thought.
Forbes said that "as the luxury market shows signs of slowing down, luxury companies are adopting new strategies to retain consumer desire. With aspiring consumers increasingly priced out of the high-end luxury market, brands need innovative ways to connect with them and keep the luxury dream alive." So, research is showing that luxury brands are trying to reach an untapped audience and, in that way, make themselves more accessible. But fashion is about identity, and identity is exclusive.
Athletics is an integral aspect of identity, so where do sports and luxury intersect in the cultural sense? The answer: aesthetics. Forming an "aesthetic" (a singular, cohesive visual identity) is something that was once naturally cultivated and integrated into personal identity, but is now the entirety of an identity and is discovered more so through others than the self.
These days, an aesthetic is more than just what you're wearing; it's what you do while you wear those clothes, what you avoid when you wear those clothes, and who you do when you take them off. The lens of the 'aesthetic' captures the books you read, the music you listen to, the clothes you wear, who you are (note that this list is non-exhaustive). From 'airport looks' to the infamous (and, I must say, paradoxical) 'old money' aesthetic, athleisure and sportswear have become the epitome of 'effortless' fashion in a sphere where effortless has started to equal luxurious. 'Quiet luxury' identity has become equivalent to aesthetic. So, money has become an aesthetic, and the way you wear money has become the most sought-after one.
This leads back to the question of who can truly afford leisure. Take a brand like Alo Yoga. Yes, they sell leggings, sports bras, and shorts—but more importantly, they sell sweatpants, sweatshirts, and jackets. Even more pertinent: this is who you are when you step off the mat—a consumer who wears a $300 sweatsuit as casual wear. Its premium price and minimalist approach promote an effortlessly luxurious lifestyle.
So, the identity—or brand—attached to both sportswear and luxury tastes overlaps. Take the example of tennis: the 'gentlemen's/ladies' game' that enforces relatively stricter rules regarding outfits than other sports, from dimensions to color scheme. Also, see how people dress to watch tennis matches. Or a Sunday afternoon game with the family at a country club in the Hamptons. Tennis didn't become a fashion moment because of the sport, but because of who the sport has always belonged to—and now everyone wants to look like they belong there too. You have to know the rules to follow them, and knowing the rules means you belong.
The country club Sunday is a specific class portrait: people who wear tennis clothes to watch tennis, who wear Ralph Lauren to attend Wimbledon, who buy the aesthetic of a sport they may never actually play. The dress code is actually a password, a not-so-silent nod of recognition and acknowledgment. Adding it, even superficially, into our lives feels like we're getting one more puzzle piece closer to the picture on the box.
Knowing this, it is no surprise that the sport's attire has grown in popularity with those who are also interested in the intersection of luxury and the idea of tennis.
A more recent topic that has echoed a similar phenomenon is the new show Love Story, specifically regarding the late Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy. Don't get me wrong, she had fabulous, timeless style. It was truly hers, and it showed. But we covet more than just her fashion. What we want is not to be Carolyn, but to be Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy. Once you dress like her, you subconsciously expect to attract her job, her apartment, or John F. Kennedy Jr. for a husband. Similarly, Alo gained rapid popularity after Kendall Jenner started posting in their clothes, posing next to her 1997 Porsche 993 Carrera S, her Mercedes-Benz G 500 Cabriolet, or her other Porsche.
If we as a society can convince ourselves that 50% poly, 25% cotton, 25% rayon is the epitome of leisure and luxury, we've already convinced ourselves of the harder thing—that we can live someone else's life.
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