I wore (gasp) sportswear to a party in Paris
Here's what happened.
There are two ways to approach fashion in Paris: you either actively fit in or actively stick out.
I’ve explored the subject of this unspoken “uniform” umpteen times —in articles, on podcasts… heck, Camille and I even made a documentary for Paris Premiere around it.
In the doc we got our somewhat eccentric investigatory journalist hats on and went deep, exploring the cultural reasons for such standardisation of what Parisians consider acceptably chic (neutrals, layers, good cuts, no shorts on men except on holiday and even then not at dinner) …and why none of these rules seem to exists in London.
For better or for worse there’s definitely still a style code in this city, one which a large percentage of the population adheres to —and honestly, most of the time, so do I. Not because I’m desperate to be like everyone else. I simply think it’s the most optimal solution in terms of looking put together and getting dressed as quickly, efficiently, and sustainably as possible.
There are times, however, when I want to wear something different. And (potentially offensive sweeping generalisation coming) the fact that I am not, in fact, from Paris maybe means I am not psychologically shackled to a pair APC jeans, white T shirt and blazer/trench in the same way that, say, my husband is. It may look like I’m chained to the gates, but in the immortal words of Eva Green, I am not chained to the gates.
No shade to either APC or Marc btw. Still fancy the hell out of both.
But Wednesday night was one such unchained occasion and my outfit was met with so many audible gasps, that as I made my way home after a great evening I thought I’d better share the whole experience with you. Also because my look wasn’t that crazy.
I have friends (mostly Londoners) who wear mèh'al stuff all the time and make it look amazing. They are professional fashion boundary-pushers. I do not begin to claim to be on their level of devil-may-care kook.
I simply went out on the town wearing sportswear. Specifically: a bra top, bare midriff, sneakers and a hot pink pair of running shorts from the new Loewe x On collaboration. In other words, I wore things any normal Fashion Gods-fearing Parisian would only wear to the gym. Or, at a push, on a run in the park.
I should mention that if you showed up wearing this in Toronto or New York or pretty much any other North American metropolis no one would batt an eyelid. Particularly given I had the exposed sports bra situation partially covered by a black cardigan and blazer. But this is Paris and for better or for worse the almighty collective aversion to spandex on the street runs deep. Btw I do agree that if you’ve already worked out you should probably go have a shower. But the only workout I’d embarked on was a very liberating saunter to my engagements.
The first was a celebration thrown by Loewe to launch said collab with On, so I stuck out a little less on arrival, given other guests had also been dressed by the brand (albeit most taking more of a sweatshirt with their own jeans approach). Then I walked through the (3rd, Republic,11th) to my next do, turning more than one inquisitive heads, to a party thrown by Soeur at a trendy ice cream shop near Oberkampf. Approaching the venue I spotted a group of pals outside drinking wine in the street, a sea of elegant denim, low-heels and neutral noble fabrics. When they saw me bounding up they begun laughing, and when I got closer, one immediately asked me point blank if I’d come direct from the pilates studio down the road.
I fielded similar questions all evening. Another friend told me she’d dreamt of going out in her sports kit but would never dare. A third just strode up to me speechless when she arrived late and begun snapping photos. (Merci Alice, as they are now the ones adorning this post).
At the end of the night, a friend who had had a few glasses told me she actually loved seeing me “lean into my American side” and that it strangely kind of suited me to live my truth as such. (She does know I’m Canadian, but I think this was meant as a compliment.)
The funny thing is I didn’t feel vaguely self-conscious all evening. Not on the walk over alone with people giving the Parisian once-twice-over, not at either party. I wear the same thing to the gym at our tennis club where, frankly, myself and every other woman my age is eyed incessantly by sixty-something dads. If I can get by at posh perv central why on earth would I feel weird in a sports bra with a bunch of fashion-loving women, including three of my closest friends?
Where the many lookbooks that hit my inbox weekly are concerned, I can tell you on that sportswear, in all its comfortable, sinuous, and honestly I think quite sexy glory is doing its darnedest to have its moment in the French sun this summer. With the Olympics around the corner —and the construction work in preparation for the games currently making it impossible to round any corner on a mode of transportation other than one’s feet —I can’t help but wonder if functional-chic sportswear could really be the trend of this summer in Paris.
It’s not just Loewe’s latest foray into athleisure that’s tempted me. Who doesn’t want to look like Carolyn and John-John out walking the dog? I’ve noticed business is booming at my local Brandy Melville (the 90’s sweat-shorts sell like hotcakes, apparently.) And everyone who can possibly bear to have the words “Sporty & Rich” strewn across their chest has now invested in their delicious if expensive sportswear. I truly am a fan of the brand’s aesthetic and would wear it constantly if not for the name. (That which we call casual luxury by any other name would smell as sweet).
So yeah. Not only does this summer’s sporty aesthetic feel like a natural, more purposeful continuation of the whole rah rah/Sloaney pony/preppy/old money (cringe)/ quiet luxury take-your-pick rigamarole fashion’s embarked on (never complain never explain when it’s your soul style)… it also just makes sense for practical reasons. Particularly once the temperature suddenly shoots up here as it’s known to do and the Olympics-related traffic comes to a total standstill. I don’t imagine there’ll be anything more liberating than a bra top and a pair of sneakers in a month’s time. Maybe I’ll be the only one carrying the torch but trust me, it’s well worth the stares.
Weekly Recs… The Function Edition
Kings and Rebels baby booties.
Praise be to my friend Anne-Marie who has come up with baby shoes that’ll actually stay on your kid’s feet. If, like I did, you’ve resorted to socks in year one because junior refuses to put/keep anything else on and you’re worried about hypothermia (yes, even in spring and fall)… look no further than Kings & Rebels, whose baby booties are made to make parents’ lives easier and kids’ feet cosier. A one-snap solution, every bootie is hand-crafted and carefully confectioned in the brand’s women-led atelier. Plus the 12months + styles have grips for ambitious walkers.
Soeur x Lido swim cap:
Guys, there are several things that held me back for years from joining my husband’s aforementioned tennis club but what really kept me away for years before capitulating (yes, even more than the fee and gym oglers combined) was the fact that they make everyone swim at the outdoor pool in a bathing cap. I get the hygiene issue but really? Luckily the only vaguely attractive one I’ve ever seen is now available from the new Soeur x Lido collab. There’s even a chocolate suit to match, yum.
Mary Kate x Ash Tray:
For when you get bored of being virtuous. Lord knows they did. Anyway you don’t need to be a smoker to own this piece of iconography.
OMG! I can't believe you wore that around Paris! I can believe the reactions that you received. LOL First, you do look super cute in that outfit. I like the blazer over the outfit. Second, this was a fun article to read. Third, I'm one of those people who is sick of seeing people dressed in athleasure. I live in the US and it's just so overdone. Personally, I don't feel at my best or at my most confident when I'm in leggings or gym clothes which is why I choose not to wear them outside of the gym/studio. But that's me. As you pointed out, it will be interesting to see if the Olympics bring any changes to fashion in Paris.
Funny story, I'm at a café in Paris and a French woman at the table next to me says to her non-French friend "those women are students from the UK because no self-respecting French woman would dress like that". I was dying! As an American living outside Paris, I tried to fit in and not to call attention to myself as an outsider. Plus, I love the way French women dress! I was obsessed with learning and observing the whole picture - the attitude, the confidence, the style, the hair and makeup, the accessories, how they put it all together, mixing high and low and new and old. I loved all of it.
Epic look