There have always been ways to spot someone who is old: white hair, a gray beard, bifocals, references to smallpox. But now, to the chagrin of millennials — the newest batch of elderly people — there’s one that hits too close to home: leggings and tight athletic wear.
Once touchstones for wealth, fitness, and sexiness, formfitting athleisure has become a uniform for the geriatric — allegedly.
Determining what is and what isn’t old people’s garb is Gen Z, the youngest adults on the planet. Even though they will eventually become old themselves, for now, Gen Z determines the trends of fashion. And what they say, according to the Wall Street Journal, a newspaper that’s read by more old people than young, is that now is the time for baggy-fitting sweats and tees and loose-fitting athleisure.
Think: Lululemon stuffing every adjective into its “big cozy ultra-oversized wide-leg pant.” Or Vuori’s “generous” Seaside Sweatpant. Or Alo’s Serenity, a pant that could easily double as a flag or a hammock.
Looking for answers and some outrage, I went to the front lines of where the battle is being fought: gyms, run clubs, group fitness classes, and the social media feeds of millennial trainers and fitness influencers. What I found was a tension between mortality and vanity, a clash where popularity meets coolness, and a strong belief that the demise of leggings might be overblown.
We may not live forever, but leggings might.
Why svelte athleisure got big in the first place
“They’re trying to confuse you, Alex,” said trainer and fitness influencer Bobby McMullen. McMullen is the co-founder of an app called Adonis, which links trainers to potential clients. He is essentially a David Attenborough of athleisure.
“They’re putting form above function, and it makes me sick,” he added.
McMullen, a millennial, is of a simple belief: Muscles are meant to be seen, not covered up under baggy sweats. Wearing formfitting clothes not only feels good, but they accentuate every deadlift, bench press, lunge, and snatch that our bodies have ever performed.
“If you’re doing squats, I want to see an uncomfortable outline of whatever’s going on down there,” McMullen said. “The bottom of your squat should be TV-MA.”
McMullen explained to me that his and other millennials’ fidelity toward fitted athleisure stems, in large part, from being the first generation to experience the boom of athleisure brands. In the early 2000s, there were just a handful of options — Nike, Under Armour, Adidas, etc. — that existed for consumers. Most of those lines featured boxier, baggier cuts. The tight-fitting garments that those brands featured were mostly marketed to consumers as compression layers: basically, underwear that would strap down all your bits for the sake of athletic aerodynamics.
McMullen says it wasn’t until women-forward brands like Lululemon and, now, Vuori and Alo rose to prominence that the idea of feeling sexy at the gym really sunk in, and clothes really began to reflect that concept. At the same time, millennials also grew up when the culture around health and fitness became mainstream, and gyms and fitness classes became popular.
Since everything millennials do is cringe to Gen Z, it was only a matter of time before the youths came for yoga pants and muscle tees, as well as the desire to show off the goods underneath them.
“It’s almost become cringe to be vain, but you’re going to have to pry it from my cold dead hands,” McMullen said.
While McMullen and his inseparability from his own vanity may (or may not) be a joke, we know that tighter gym clothes aren’t just for aesthetics. A large part of the appeal of athleisure is rooted in function and performance.
“I like wearing loose clothing, but from a workout perspective, I don’t know how I feel about that,” said Sharon Kim, a lifestyle content creator with a fitness background. “I’m not doing gentle yoga. I’m running miles. I’m boxing.”
Kim, who is a younger millennial, explains that the reason people (millennials) are so taken aback by Gen Z’s anti-legging stance is that there are certain activities where baggy pants just don’t make sense. No one wants to run miles in big sweats, nor does anyone want to cycle or take a HIIT class in loose clothes that can get in the way. As long as run clubs, cycling, and pilates exist, so will leggings.
“I don’t think leggings are going to go anywhere,” she said, noting that she does sees more and more people wearing big athleisure before and after strenuous workouts.
Baggy athleisure puts the emphasis on leisure
That’s mainly how Jojo Kelly, a Gen Z-millennial cusper (born in 1996) and head coach at Tonehouse, a New York City luxury strength training and fitness facility, sports it.
“I love wearing baggy clothes outside the gym,” Kelly said, adding that she also likes warming up in sweats and hoodies — a practice she learned as a dancer. Those layers can help your body loosen up and get ready for “intense exertion,” she said. But, for that exertion and proper form, sweats aren’t ideal.
“You can’t tell if your knees are tracking over your second toe in sweatpants,” Kelly said. “I also believe in wearing what you feel the most comfortable in. Working out is already uncomfortable enough!”
Gen Z’s argument for bigger fits is that it’s more comfortable and more fashionable to, essentially, not look like you’re working out all the time. The popularity of aforementioned run clubs, cycling, and pilates classes made formfitting athleisure a millennial status symbol; it became a uniform. Now that the “uniform” holds less cultural cache among a younger generation, the cool move is to go big.
Alex Intriago, a coach at Solidcore in San Francisco and also a cusper (born in 1997), told me that he sees this trend out and about. Young people wear looser, baggier athleisure more casually — but not in actual workouts. She still considers wearing sweatpants in intense workouts “torture” and doesn’t see herself wearing them in class. But never say never: She thought the same thing about her now-obsolete skinny jeans.
“I might flip; you never know,” Intriago said.
Maybe leggings will outlive us all
If there’s one thing to know about this generational divide, it’s that “what looks cute/fashionable/young” is an endless cycle.
Jeans and non-athleisure pants have moved on from being skinny (thankfully) — from thigh-constricting to roomier fits. And not too long before the current debate over leggings, the youth litmus test was over socks. Ankle socks are millennial indicators, while crews and quarter crews are Gen Z, apparently.
No piece of clothing — sweatshirts, skirts, jackets, baseball caps, skorts, bikinis, boxer briefs, bras, or anything in between — is safe from being considered old or, conversely, young.
The tension between millennial and Gen Z fashion might lead someone to believe that one or the other is the actual victor in this war over athleisure. But that’s too simple. It’s only a matter of time before Gen Alpha bucks against Gen Z’s trends and deems them fit for nursing homes.
The real winners are the athleisure companies making baggy sweats and loose-fitting tops. Think about it: The market is fully saturated with leggings, muscle tees, and tight-fitting gym attire for anyone who still wants them. But there’s more room to grow when it comes to the baggy stuff. Why not appeal to Gen Z while, at the same time, capitalizing on millennials’ obsession with health, vanity, and youth?
If everyone’s buying big pants, to the brands, it doesn’t really matter why.
