I had a baby a few months ago, and I can only describe the experience as profound. I have zero desire to get back to the life I led before I was a mother, but there are many things from the old life that will be, or already are, a part of the new one.
For example, the day I got the clear from my doctor to start exercising, I handed my six-week-old baby over to my mother-in-law and took a 30-minute run around Echo Park Lake. Like most summer afternoons in Los Angeles, the sun blazed, bringing the temperature to well above 80 degrees Fahrenheit.
I was lucky to be able to run for most of my pregnancy, up until the day my water broke, so the six-week break, although necessary to heal my body, was also incredibly frustrating. In some ways, the return to exercise has been a savior: bringing my energy up after nights when I’ve slept very little, relieving stress, etc. But it’s also been harder than I thought it would be. When I do find the time to get out there, my body is slow, still deflating from carrying a child.
Nevertheless, I’m happy when I get the chance, and decided almost immediately that I needed new workout clothes: not for motivation, necessarily, but for comfort. For most of my adult life I was against serious activewear, and didn’t start buying performance-driven stuff until I began running long distances about seven years ago. (Which I believe I wrote about in this newsletter at some point.) Back then I bought a lot of Outdoor Voices, and some Nike, and some random things. I realized, as I got running again this year, that I actually needed new things: most of my running gear was old, and worn out. Too many color-blocked leggings.
I started looking for newness, and was pretty disappointed with what I found. Outdoor Voices no longer aligns with my aesthetic. I’m super impressed by Tracksmith, both from a business and brand-building perspective, but as a consumer, it’s a little too preppy for me. (Same with Tory Sport, which a lot of my friends love.) Girlfriend Collective makes wonderful maternity leggings and shorts, but has a softness that feels like the fashion equivalent of motion smoothing. Alo, another well-loved label, is 100-percent right for the person who enthusiastically returned to the pilates studio as soon as they were vaxxed. But again, not what I’m personally after.
What did I actually want? A Nike dry-fit grey t-shirt with a small swoosh on the right corner and some matching running shorts. I couldn’t find that exact thing, but I did buy a couple of items from Nike, as well as Tracksmith, because while not quite right, it was the best choice. (I’ve found myself wearing the Tracksmith shorts to run errands, not run.) I also ended up buying some stuff from Sporty & Rich’s activewear capsule. Emily Oberg, the founder, has managed to fetishize the idea of being “tasteful,” with her ode to early’-90s fitness clubs and Princess Di in gold jewelry and bike shorts. It’s kind of funny, but also chic, and I like it a lot.
Honestly, though, the only thing that has felt really good on is a pair of Lululemon bike shorts I bought on a whim a couple of weeks ago when we were on vacation in San Francisco. I have written about Lululemon but have never been a regular consumer of their goods: my family and I stopped in the store because a pair of their tech trousers had been recommended to my husband. He did not buy the trousers — maybe great for SF, not for LA — but I decided to try the bike shorts in navy, just to see.
The fabric was soft, but didn’t give too much, and when I looked in the mirror, I felt good. They also stayed in place when I went for a run, and also when I attempted to follow a strength-training video on my phone in our hotel room. I was sort of irked that they were "the ones" — I’ve never identified with the Lululemon look — but also impressed. In the end, the function won out over the fashion.
Does quality matter today when everything is so disposable? I might try, when I’m back from parental leave, to work that out as a reporter. As a casual observer, though, I’d typically argue that for most people, it doesn’t. They’re buying the idea of something, not the actual something.
Lululemon, however, is a good example of a company where quality began to lag (see: sheer tights drama circa 2013) and yet was able to redeem itself by once again focusing on the product rather than the mythos around the product. There are moments in life when you need the lipstick to actually stay on, not just come in a cute tube, or the moisturizer to actually moisturize, not just smell good, or the workout shorts to make it easier for you to go for a run, not just come in a color you like. I’m not exactly sure how good something needs to be for it to be successful, but there’s a reason no company has yet to unseat Lululemon as the leader in activewear.
What I Wrote:
I haven’t been writing anything! It's weird.
What I Read:
I haven’t been reading much either, so I thought I’d use this space to instead name some of the newsletters I pay for. In certain cases, these people are friends of mine; in all cases, I get a lot of enjoyment out of subscribing. Again, the focus here is PAID newsletters: I also subscribe to many free newsletters. Perhaps I will list those out at another time.
Trashberg I honestly don’t read this every single time, but this writer is extremely funny and talented and I want to support her insane reporting endeavors. The Lena Dunham-dog edition is worth a yearly subscription alone in my opinion.
What I’m Hearing I’m obsessed with the streaming wars and while I also subscribe to The Ankler, I prefer this take from a former THR editor/entertainment lawyer. It’s inside baseball at its best.
Secret Menu If you miss Lucky magazine, or at least the idea of Lucky magazine, this is for you.
The Real Sarah Miller Sarah is just a really great writer, very poignant and funny. Her audio reviews of movies she’s never seen are also very good.
A Continuous Lean I like Michael’s tone and approach and thoughtfulness. About fashion, but not in a stress-y way.
The Cereal Aisle Leandra Medine seems to be working out a lot of stuff in the confines of this newsletter, and I find it extremely compelling.
The New Consumer My husband’s smart-as-hell take on why we spend what we spend on what and where. He’s also really good at charts. It’s very annoying.
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