Lululemon Ruining Your (Work)Life: Do you aspire to be a “stylish, centered and self-employed member of the global home-office work force”? Good for you! Are you planning to lounge around in Lululemon yoga pants all day and actually try and get work accomplished? Good luck with that! Leah McLaren of the Globe and Mail warns you of the yoga pants pitfalls, and it’s all Lululemon’s fault! “Lululemon is to blame – not just for the commodification of an ancient spiritual practice – but for the decline in morale among the home-office work force.” Say goodbye to productivity. [Globe and Mail]
Pure Yoga Puff and Poach:This interview with Melissa Demus, the program director for Pure Yoga’s first US location in Upper East Side Manhattan, covers the basic self-aggrandizing rigamarole – with all fluff and nothing we’re interested in like the strict membership model and exorbitant registration fee – meaning it’s not all that enlightening. Although, we did find one part amusing regarding their staff search, “We also reached out to many of the top yoga instructors in the city,” says Melissa. Oh, that’s funny, you mean like poaching teachers…like Marco Rojas? [That’s Fit]
Lulu Artisan Behind the Ads: Ever wonder who the creative brain is behind Lululemon’s imposing artwork? Meet Kirsti Wakelin, the talented artist responsible for some of the brand’s impressive ads. If you’re curious, she’s just the artist, not the copywriter, so you can’t blame her for any mental anguish procured from the obnoxious manifesto (or extol her for restoring your life’s purpose). One of her latest creations, above, is featured at the soon-to-be Soho outpost. [Kirsti’s Website]
Re: PureYoga
I’m American, and live in Taiwan. Last year I joined PureYoga in Taipei a few weeks after moving to the area. (I blame being jet-lagged and not yet being able to mentally convert US dollars to New Taiwan Dollars) I paid a joining fee of around $300, and then it was another $100 or so every month. I probably attended fewer than ten classes before deciding I wanted to quit… which, because I’d signed a year-long contract, cost me another $300. The atmosphere was very hushed and elite, with sleekly dressed members padding up and down the multi-level maze sipping tea and giving me disapproving looks as I lounged in my cut-up, dancer-style tee shirt and leggings. Just getting to class was a bit of a hassle–because I had to call in advance and “reserve my place,” with my very limited Chinese abilities, it was always a bit stressful.
Granted, I always feel out of place; I’m a foreigner and look different and there’s the language barrier and all that–but at Pure, it was very apparent to me that it wasn’t the place for my practice. Coming from practicing in friendly, nurturing, unique studios in lovely old buildings in Chicago, and a teacher training in a Costa Rican jungle, PureYoga was a bit of a shock.
When I practice yoga, I sometimes sweat (a lot), wiggle, sigh, fall over, laugh, ask questions, and do other humanly things. I didn’t feel there was space for any of that among the yogabots at Pure. I also enjoy a bit of natural light; there were no windows in the Pure studio compartments… it made me feel a little bit claustrophobic and gave me that slightly confused feeling like leaving a dark movie theater in midday.
Anyway… I’ve moved on with my life, happily delving into my self-led practice with the use of resources on the internet, books, podcasts, YogaGlo, etc. In Asia, there are certain cultural values and trends that I believe make these fancy mega-studio-spas (there are others here besides Pure) hold wide appeal, and grow and thrive. I’m not sure how well it will go over in America.
I’ll be interested to hear further reports about PureYoga’s American Adventures, if you have any to post.
Cheers and Happy New Year!