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Though my eyes were closed (yes, I was eavesdropping), I knew exactly what he was referring to. Unsettlingly, approximately 98% of the yogis in attendance were all wearing the same brand of clothing. And what do you suppose that brand was? Why, Lululemon, of course!
The tiny but somehow glaring omegas marked nearly every single student in the room. It was frightening, and I was both amused and relieved that the phenomenon did not go unnoticed by this unsuspecting newcomer.
I've never paid more than $35 dollars for stretch pants and, allowing for inflation, I hope I never need to. My Target/Kohl's/Old Navy workout apparel is comfortable, stretchy, and covers my lady bits without breaking the bank. I can't imagine needing anything more. Granted, my yoga clothes are constructed merely of cotton/spandex blends and not patented, technologically enhanced, super moisture wicking, muscle supporting, ass enhancing fabrics, but I find that when I'm practicing yoga, which I do every day, I don't know or care what I'm wearing. It's not even on my radar, and that's as it should be.
Ironically, the fact that I do practice every day also means that I have no need for ass enhancing fabrics. My yoga butt is in full force regardless of the pants I wear. I refuse to be branded by brand loyalty, particularly when it comes to my practice. I refuse to seek acceptance through something so insignificant as the color, shape, or fabric of my clothes. I will not be a part of this monopolization of the "yoga lifestyle" that Lululemon has so successfully undertaken. I remarked once in an earlier post that, while I would not invest my own money in Lululemon, I would accept their clothing as a gift. Well, I've changed my mind. You can keep your exorbitantly priced spandex, Lululemon, and I'll keep my soul.