Rake Appeal { Fashion

The Stella McCartney for Adidas clothes get the haute treatment on their specially designed altar at Paiva, the new shop trading in high-fashion fitness gear at the Mall of America—track lighting even lends them a halo glow. Indeed, these hoodies, swimsuits, and track pants are not at all humble, especially by Midwestern standards. Those who make do working out in cutoff sweatpants and old-boyfriend T-shirts will surely scoff at the price tags—ninety dollars for a barely there running top, $160 for a see-through tennis dress. But for the marathon runners, masters swimmers, and exercise bulimics of the world—women who spend almost as much time in exercise gear as they do in regular types of clothing—items like die-cut singlets and mesh-inlaid running shorts will be irresistible.

As of yet, there are no numbers available to prove that active Minnesotans are actually buying this stuff. On the supply side, however, manufacturers are fusing high-performance gear with high fashion like never before. Fila’s impressive and upscale Biella line includes a $625 tennis dress double layered in super-soft, moisture-resistant polyester. Nike just introduced a line of hip-hop-inspired dancewear fashioned from Dri-Fit, its trademark technical fiber. But the designs seem overly reliant on gimmicks: quilted “gill” detailing imbues some of the Nike clothing with texture but also lends a certain holographic dimension, sort of like Hypercolor; while the corseted shimmels (in case you were wondering what to call those sports bra/tank top hybrids) lack support and, like so many others, don’t adequately cover the tummy. And the line uses coarse fabrics and a cold palette that dates to the early 90s, the golden age of hip-hop fashion.

From a design perspective, McCartney’s Adidas gear clearly crests this wave of high-end fitness wear. Her line has been singled out by fashion and style editors on both coasts and in between—one dubbed these clothes “too cute to sweat in.” Now the line is so highly coveted by retailers that Adidas has become rather persnickety about who can carry it, and how. Paiva can’t sell the clothing on its website, for example. Nor can it be featured in the store’s catalog; Adidas produced its own artful Stella McCartney supplement instead. But Adidas is only following the dictates of high fashion, which, after all, subsists on a strict diet of exclusivity and snob appeal. “We’re just lucky to have it,” said a Paiva publicist, who seemed almost humbled by the line’s actual presence in the store.

But what’s worth considering is how these clothes stack up in the real world, where many fitness subcultures still eschew the wearing of fussy duds. A $160 Stella McCartney for Adidas tennis dress will go great on the court—that sport has traditionally held hands with the fashion world. But the same doesn’t necessarily hold for running, say, or lap-swimming—solitary, more cerebral pursuits that tend to draw people much more intent on personal performance than on aesthetics. Can McCartney’s line unseat the traditionally unadorned, full-coverage gear perfected by un-sexy brands like Moving Comfort and Speedo, and win the slow-beating hearts and laser-focused minds of these kinds of athletes? That remains to be seen.