The time? Sometime last week. The situation? I was on my way to the gym when I realized I’d left my water bottle at work. The outfit? Sage green leggings, a navy tank, and an orange zip-up knit. Oh, and my giant chunky running Hokas.
I bartend at a pub in town, and figured I’d swing by and grab it. This was fatal error number 1! I should have just cupped water from the sink into my mouth like I was desperate at a party and didn’t know where they kept the cups.
The pub was fine enough. Off the main road, and I was quick. The plan was to simply slip in and out. I made sure to mention almost immediately that I was on my way to the gym once inside. I would never just wear this, and they had to know it. They were some of the oldest men I’d ever seen watching football on TV. Everyone’s a critic.
Unfortunately, though, it almost immediately started going awry. I’d lost my work key as well, and I would need to go all the way to the Central to pick up a replacement. No! Not Market Street!
Okay, it would be fine. I needed the key, and I needed to get to the gym. In no world was I going to go home and change just to walk further into town, but why was this suddenly so stressful? Why did I suddenly feel so naked? I was fully covered, but completely exposed!
I decided to do my best to make this look intentional. Headphones in. Sunglasses on. Walking very quickly.
Immediately! From the shadows of a throughway tunnel: someone I knew, but not well enough to know this was not my average attire. Oh no. It couldn’t be worse. Oh, hi. Oh, yeah. Yeah! I’m on the way to the gym! Huh? The gym. Oh, really? Yeah! Yeah, so much coursework, yeah, me too. Okay bye! I kept moving! South Street to Market Street. Here we go.
Coming out of the tunnel. I looked to my left and another! Oh, god! Hi! Yeah, no, the gym! Yes! Yes, it’s orange! Thrifted. Yes, goodbye! To the right, and oh, I love your blouse! Damson and Madder? Figures. Me? Oh, Hoka. And my mom. And my Nike socks from middle school. See you! The gym! What? The gym!
Finally, I was on Market Street, crossing the road, headed straight for The Central. My greatest foe yet: the permanent nonchalant competition going on at their outdoor tables. Luckily, I didn’t recognize any faces, but god, they were such cool faces! Terrible. They could see me, but they couldn’t see my truth. I wasn’t just wearing these clothes as clothes; it’s athletic, not athleisure! In every tourist, local, or student, I found the eyes of judgment and scorn. They looked me up and down, and they saw into my soul. They labeled me “comfortable” and left me at that.
In the door, I pick up the key. I’ve got the bottle, I’ve got the key, and I’m ready for what should have been the main event. Tumbling out of the doors, my mind had one message, just running over and over. Get to the gym! Get to the gym!
I had no safety blanket of an oversized smart coat or slouchy stiff blue Levi’s. No cherry red ballet flats, or even a ludicrously capacious bag! As I made my way back through town, I did my best to keep my head held high. I looked back and forth and stared exclusively at the sky! Eventually, I made it out of town without another hitch. I’d been through enough, anyway.
When I crossed the threshold of the gym and was finally safe, I considered it for a moment. What happened to athleisure? When was the last time I’d even seen it? It had disappeared without a trace from my life, and I hadn’t noticed it leaving, but I had felt its absence all the same.
Why have we done this to ourselves? This obsession with chic. Surely, there could be a balance? I’m not advocating for bad outfits, I mean, I would never! But of course, perhaps, maybe— we could find in ourselves a degree of grace. Don’t we all have a uniform in this town?
After all, I could pull a finance bro out of a lineup from his gilet alone. A poet out of the crowd, from only her bobby pins. Half of our jackets even say which societies we’re a part of. Aren’t we all just walking billboards at times, carrying the messages we want to send to the world?
Maybe one day, St Andrews will be a bit more understanding. I, for one, wish for a world in which one day, an outfit would be allowed to simply say: I’m just on my way to the gym, but would you believe it—I forgot my water bottle at work, and then I had a surprise errand to run, but then I’ll get right to it. I promise. Really.