From the Lululemon Dilemma
So, here’s the thing.
My MIL gave me some money for Christmas. It’s $100, which is a pretty good chunk of change. Thanks Mary Jean. Anyway, I’m completely torn on whether to spend it on something I’ve coveted for awhile - a black lululemon hoodie.
DISCLAIMER: I in no way judge anyone who currently owns lululemon clothing. Everyone has their own internal compass, and that’s the way it should be. Not only that, if you currently own lululemon stock, hats off to you. I wish I could have bought in on the ground floor. I wonder if they send their shareholders gift cards?
One the one hand, lululemon stands for a lot of things I don’t believe in. Like logoism. I mean seriously, it’s just a sweatshirt with a big curvy swoopy thing on it. It’s really not worth $100. And while the company and it’s granola-munching, tree-hugging, downward-dog-doing founder love preaching world peace and serenity and tranquility, they’re really out there to make a buck, and they’re making quite a few of them. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
And I also don’t agree with their sizing. They only go up to a 12. What, bigger women don’t work out? And don’t want to look good, fashionable, and elitist while doing it? Every time I’ve ever been in the store, they have enough size 4’s left to choke a supermodel, but there’s nary a 12 in sight. Uh, clue in, people! McFly!
Third, I’ve heard the quality really isn’t that great for the money you spend. I’ve heard the stuff pills and fades. Do I want to blow $100 on something that’s going to look like a $10 Sally Ann Special in a month? Sorry, I burn gas for heat, not money.
*Now stepping off my high horse and casting my eyes downward*
On the other hand, I drink Starbucks coffees with the best of them. I’ve spend well over $100 on a Coach bag - and made damn sure those back-to-back C’s were visible. But not too visible, you know? A subtle pattern. “Oh, is it a Coach? I hadn’t noticed. I just have instinctively classy taste.” Whatever. And I fully intend to buy several a couple one more. I buy brand name sneakers, and my daughter most days looks like she stepped out of a Gymboree catalogue. So it’s probably a little hypocritical of me to be preaching about logoism.
And, with my fingers firmly holding my nose, I have tried on the size 12 and found it to be more than generous. The salesgirls - who are all size 4’s, btw - also enthusiastically preach the stretchiness of the fabric.
And the fact is - I want one. I really want one. I want to wear the curvy swoopy thing. I feel myself walking, 2 eyes wide open, into the warm, loving embrace of consumerism. But will I still respect myself in the morning?
My MIL gave me some money for Christmas. It’s $100, which is a pretty good chunk of change. Thanks Mary Jean. Anyway, I’m completely torn on whether to spend it on something I’ve coveted for awhile - a black lululemon hoodie.
DISCLAIMER: I in no way judge anyone who currently owns lululemon clothing. Everyone has their own internal compass, and that’s the way it should be. Not only that, if you currently own lululemon stock, hats off to you. I wish I could have bought in on the ground floor. I wonder if they send their shareholders gift cards?
One the one hand, lululemon stands for a lot of things I don’t believe in. Like logoism. I mean seriously, it’s just a sweatshirt with a big curvy swoopy thing on it. It’s really not worth $100. And while the company and it’s granola-munching, tree-hugging, downward-dog-doing founder love preaching world peace and serenity and tranquility, they’re really out there to make a buck, and they’re making quite a few of them. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
And I also don’t agree with their sizing. They only go up to a 12. What, bigger women don’t work out? And don’t want to look good, fashionable, and elitist while doing it? Every time I’ve ever been in the store, they have enough size 4’s left to choke a supermodel, but there’s nary a 12 in sight. Uh, clue in, people! McFly!
Third, I’ve heard the quality really isn’t that great for the money you spend. I’ve heard the stuff pills and fades. Do I want to blow $100 on something that’s going to look like a $10 Sally Ann Special in a month? Sorry, I burn gas for heat, not money.
*Now stepping off my high horse and casting my eyes downward*
On the other hand, I drink Starbucks coffees with the best of them. I’ve spend well over $100 on a Coach bag - and made damn sure those back-to-back C’s were visible. But not too visible, you know? A subtle pattern. “Oh, is it a Coach? I hadn’t noticed. I just have instinctively classy taste.” Whatever. And I fully intend to buy several a couple one more. I buy brand name sneakers, and my daughter most days looks like she stepped out of a Gymboree catalogue. So it’s probably a little hypocritical of me to be preaching about logoism.
And, with my fingers firmly holding my nose, I have tried on the size 12 and found it to be more than generous. The salesgirls - who are all size 4’s, btw - also enthusiastically preach the stretchiness of the fabric.
And the fact is - I want one. I really want one. I want to wear the curvy swoopy thing. I feel myself walking, 2 eyes wide open, into the warm, loving embrace of consumerism. But will I still respect myself in the morning?
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