Lululemon is a Lemon
I made a promise to myself to write an article a day. Comically enough, I stopped after day three. It's hard to write about new concepts when you've had the same day for the past four weeks. So this particular article has been inspired by me unsubscribing from Lululemon.
Three hours ago, I broke up with Lululemon. It was a tough breakup. I remember the first time I saw these magnificent creatures out in the wild. It was my sophomore year, and I would see them on the most graceful beings. They usually consisted of beautiful, blond bombshells that would glide in and utter things like “I don't eat ice cream, it's basically poison for your body.” Needless to say, I was hooked on these unattainable creatures. I was raised on Costco clothes. I was a Kirkland kid, but Lululemon had my heart.
Then something magical happened. I became a real adult, with a job and everything. Here was my chance to become a Lululemon lemming. I wore them like a badge of pride, even pretending to be sheepish if anyone mentioned it. I wanted so badly to be some character I invented as a teen. It was the antithesis of what I had grown up on. It was impractical and flashy in a granola “I’m rich and better than you” vibe. It was the Juicy Couture of my generation.
But like most realistic love stories, the cracks started to show. At first I ignored that I had to squeeze into their biggest size (The CEO says it would cost too much money to make anything bigger than a size 12). I ignored the infamous 2013 scandal (their yoga pants were terribly transparent when you bent over, further proving that they aren't built for their main purpose to do yoga, an activity in which you are bent over 87% of the time). The CEO then came out with a statement blaming women's thighs for the mishap.
Then a quote came out from the CEO, Chip Wilson, admitting that he chose the name Lululemon because he thought it would be harder for Chinese people to say. You heard that right. He makes the CEO of Abercrombie look decent!
So after much soul searching and credit card debt, I've gone back to being a Kirkland kid. Their yoga pants are 20 dollars, and you can buy ice cream to match.
