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Questions to Ponder Before Buying Luxury Sweatpants

*For the purposes of this thought exercise, “luxury sweatpants” are any sweats that are more expensive than you’d normally buy and that you can wear to brunch.

Have you ever considered buying luxury sweatpants? Maybe you got a raise or won big at blackjack or took advantage of a fabulous Farfetch Black Friday sale (guilty as charged). Or maybe you got FOMO seeing a cool Hadid streetstyle photo and thought:

“Damn, I want street sweats like that. I look venti disheveled walking to get my Saturday Starbucks.”

I recently bought Burberry sweatpants, and they’re great. Don’t get me wrong. They’re softer than any pair I’ve ever owned. They’re embroidered majestically, look spectacular and came in a box that mentions the Queen. Which makes sense, because they make my legs feel like royalty.

But there’s something you need to know about luxury sweatpants.

You can’t fart in them.

It’s wrong. When the urge first hit, a whiff of confusion flooded my nostrils. You’re supposed to be able to fart in sweatpants, but I couldn’t do it. Not in these. Not on their first wear! It was like going to a bar and being forced to start a juice cleanse.

My previous favorite pair of sweats had approximately 500 farts in them. It gave them character. Each a care-free memory of past relaxation. These Burberry sweats won’t experience a single breaking of wind.

Speaking of wind, is a catamaran still a sail boat if it’s propelled with a motor?

Sweatpants are supposed to be football companions. Dog-walking partners. Trusty hangover sidekicks and nap snuggle buddies. Not go to fancy bottomless brunches at restaurants that double as wedding venues.

Yes, it feels naughty buying designer sweatpants.

Writing this, I realized I can’t even spell luxury correctly. Spell check still had to fix on my fifth try. Half the furniture in my apartment is from IKEA. Sitting on a recliner I put together by hand in soft Burberry butt huggers felt completely incongruous.

Is a hammer a hammer it never pounds any nails?

But it also made me feel alive. Splurging on sweats (that were on sale) felt like healthier risk-taking behavior than binging on beer. I can wear these Burberry beauties to the airport and not feel my grandfather, who wore a suit and tie to fly, roll over in his grave. If a paparazzi pic arises along the way to the aforementioned Starbucks, I can pretend it’s such a pain and say please no photos while posing perfectly.


If you’re considering buying luxury sweats, weigh the pros and cons. Have an internal dialogue.

It is worth having sweatpants if they can’t be themselves?

Is a charcuterie board a proper appetizer if you can’t cut the cheese?

I love my Burberrys, but as your tongue-in-chic fashion friend, I want you to ponder these questions.

It might help to get some fresh air.

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