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5 hours ago
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Athleisure is not to be confused with serious fitness wear. No one is running a marathon or playing a game of football in the shoes pictured above. Notice how, in a made-up noun that is a compound of athletics and leisure, the first has been shrunk to three letters. The only personal best that concerns you here is having an optimal Saturday morning.
Athleisure is fashion, not kit, so it moves with the times just as much as it moves with you. And it looks very different now than a few years ago, when every outfit was anchored by snazzy leggings. Tight legging sets with dazzling graphics were the parade uniform of the imperial age of Lycra. Under the cheerful tyranny of compression fit, starburst-pattern leggings with matching sports bras ruled the roost. These were outfits designed to be watched in a mirror with a rousing soundtrack: perky and sculpting, lingerie-like in their obsession with matching two-piece sets and with bottoms.
These clothes are still functional in class or on the treadmill, but they are no longer a style flex at the coffee shop. That version of athleisure now looks dated. In its place something looser has emerged, with a wink of nostalgia in place of the earnest modernity of graphic-print leggings. Today’s athleisure is more about the bracing, outdoorsy world of organised sport. Think rugby tops, roomy tracksuit bottoms, windbreakers and fleeces. Pieces that suggest teams, institutions and muddy sidelines rather than sleek individual optimisation.
The rugby shirt is a key item. It bridges sport (the stripe, the name) and corpcore (white collar, commuter vibe). Loud and bulky, it sits between sportswear and uniform. Worn with baggy tracksuit bottoms, straight jeans or tailored trouser, it brings a similar energy to your look as the hoodie you layered under your Crombie coat a decade ago.
Both the hoodie and the rugby shirt have sporting affiliations, but of very different stripes. The ascent of the rugby shirt reflects how preppy chic has reasserted itself after years when anti-establishment streetwear had the momentum. This happened partly because when hoodies became logo-driven and trainers locked into an impenetrable limited-edition loop, a culturally cool vocabulary lost its oppositional charge. What began as a language of subcultures was absorbed by luxury houses.
In its place, athleisure has turned towards something older and more legible: preppy codes, collegiate references, clothes associated with institutions. Rugby shirts, cricket jumpers, boat shoes, loafers and pleated trousers all carry a whiff of inherited structure. They suggest rules and hierarchies. Even worn ironically, they retain the shape of authority.
This is bigger than just athleisure. The whole of fashion is becoming more comfortable aligning itself with conventional power structures. The irony-soaked distance that once defined casual dress has faded, with clothes that imply stability and order carrying fresh appeal. Wearing a tie is on the way back, according to the menswear shows, which underscores the direction of travel: a renewed interest in formality, hierarchy.
A rugby shirt still has bull-in-a‑china-shop energy. It borrows the cultural weight of organised sport – its tribal loyalties and long history. Paired with slouchy track pants and trainers, the look feels relaxed but intentional. Worn with tailored trousers and loafers, it takes on a sharper, more ironic edge. Layered under a blazer or over a rollneck, it looks comfortable but not careless.
Athleisure has grown up. It no longer pretends that leisure is merely a pause between workouts. Leisure is the point, and the post-class coffee is not a reward, but the core activity. Step off the treadmill: life is best lived at walking pace.
Model: Daria at Milk. Hair and makeup: Sophie Higginson using Bumble & Bumble and Dermalogica. Stylist’s assistant: Charlotte Gornall. Earrings, £315, Thomas Sabo. Top, £35.99, Zara. Rugby shirt, £34, Topshop. Bag, £115, Charles & Keith. Corduroy trousers, £126, Varley. Heels, £65, Charles & Keith
