I sometimes forget that for the first 18 years of my life my primary identification was “athlete.” Now that there’s no more competition involved in working out, I’ve become a subway-sitting munchkin-eating turd and that’s mostly okay with me. There’s just one problem. In the past few years athletic clothing has upped its style game big time. Do I want to walk around in SoulCycle skulls? Certainly not. But do I miss wearing colorful flippy tennis skirts on the regs? Absolutely. Not to mention the rainbow array of spandex I used to own….sigh.
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