Earlier this week, Lululemon’s founder, Chip Wilson, made a boneheaded comment in response to the sheer batch of yoga pants that the company had to recall earlier this year.
“Frankly, some women’s bodies just don’t actually work [for the yoga pants] … It’s more really about the rubbing through the thighs, how much pressure is there over a period of time, how much they use it,” Wilson said in a TV interview.
I’ll admit, I buy and wear Lululemon products. I suppose he’s right about the shape of a woman’s body affecting the wear and tear on the pants, yet there was something irksome about about his comment. Forgetting about the actual yoga pants for a moment (which happen to run about four sizes smaller than a woman’s actual size), I think what makes me (and others) bristle about Wilson’s comment is his subtext of exclusion. Keep reading »
Although Abercrombie & Fitch has been hit hard with criticism for not carrying larger sizes in stores, they’re far from the only company ignoring the plus-size customer base. We already knew anything over size 10 is considered “plus size” at Forever 21. Now, according to Huffington Post, Lululemon Athletica, a Canadian clothing company that focuses on yoga and running attire, also is biased against customers who require larger sizes.
As company that sells athletic gear, Lululemon wants to portray an image of health and wellness. How healthy a person is, however, is not to be confused with how skinny a person is. This is where Lululemon goes wrong.
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I never thought I’d have to defend my choice to wear yoga pants. Or to wear expensive yoga pants. Or to wear thong underwear beneath my expensive yoga pants. But the day has arrived. I will and I shall.
With all this hullabaloo about Lululemon recalling a bunch of their yoga pants because they were too sheer, everyone suddenly seems to have an opinion about how women should or shouldn’t cover their asses while doing Downward Dog.
Charlotte Cowles, a regular yogi, weighed in on the Lululemon recall in New York Magazine, attributing the problem to thongs rather than pants:
“The problem with sheer yoga pants isn’t so much that your butt cheeks are visible, but that your thong is. Still, I don’t see why this is a terrible concern, since lots of ladies’ thongs stick out during yoga anyway.”
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Oh noes! Bad news out of Yoga Pants Land! Lululemon, purveyors of unnecessarily expensive workout gear, has supposedly had to chuck an entire batch of their yoga pants, known mostly for giving men uncontrollable boners, because a manufacturing glitch made them too thin. As if the super tight fabric wasn’t skankasaurus enough, this particular batch of yoga pants were see-through. Lululemon began pulling the pants from shelves this weekend, releasing the following press release about the disaster:
“We have determined that certain shipments of product received from our factories and available in store from March 1, 2013 do not meet our technical specifications. The items affected are certain styles of women’s bottoms in our signature black Luon fabric. The ingredients, weight and longevity qualities of the pants remain the same but the coverage does not, resulting in a level of sheerness in some of our women’s black Luon bottoms that falls short of our very high standards. Keep reading »
Shopping for shorts is not usually fun. Whether they’re too tight, small or mean to the shape of your butt, the ways in which shorts can go wrong are borderline endless. So when we discovered Lululemon’s “Do It All” shorts and subsequently found that they can, in fact, do it all, we were thrilled. They’re long enough that it’s not all hanging out, regardless of your height, and short enough that you won’t be mistaken for a boy from behind — a lovely length compromise one doesn’t often find. And if watermelon pink isn’t quite your thing, pick up a pair in white, black, light, or dark gray. You got options, lady. [$68, Lululemon] Keep reading »
Lululemon sweatpants generally run $80 to $130, prices that are probably leaving some of you poised over your keyboards, ready to extol the many virtues of Target and imply that anyone willing to spend $100 on sweatpants more or less deserves eternal damnation. Well, hear me out, because my $100 Lululemon sweatpants are the most sensible piece of athletic-wear I’ve ever bought. They keep their shape, look good almost four years after I bought them and do something altogether magical with my ass, thus justifying their crazy-high price tag every time I wear them. Keep reading »