James Devaney
Chris Black on why you should consider dressing like a dirtbag for your workout.
For years my approach to gym attire has been "pro-gear, pro-attitude." Meaning, I wanted to be draped in only the most beautiful high-end Nike Dri-Fit gear available. Every piece of clothing had that easily recognizable reflective check—jet black, sweat-wicking, and sleek. My thought process was simple: dress like an athlete, perform like an athlete.
Recently, I started running into this guy at my local YMCA who had a far different approach to gymwear. He is probably a few years younger than me and looks like an Australian who got kicked out of the Bollettieri Tennis academy for smoking pot. His color palette was mostly dark, but his choices in brands and fabrics were all over the map. This guy would roll into the gym in old New Balance sweatpants, a dingy cotton T-shirt, vintage Nike Waffle racers, a Lacoste hat, Patagonia shorts, Calvin Klein socks, and an Adidas fanny pack to protect his personal effects from sweat. This guy was doing perfect pull-ups to exhaustion, beautiful lunges, diamond push-ups till infinity. After a few more run-ins, I began to warm to his laissez faire look. It said to me: "This isn't a fashion show. I am here to work out." What was I trying to convey with my stealth look? Did my 100-dollar shorts make me look like I was trying too hard? Who was "performing"? My look, or me?
This mystery man's gym look was unwittingly on trend. He was rocking what I like to call a "dust fit." His aloof brand mixing and utilitarian approach is reminiscent of Kanye West heading to the studio in Russell sweatpants and a Carhartt jacket; Shia LaBeouf getting an iced coffee wearing only items from the Army Surplus store; or Justin Bieber leaving SoulCycle in a Thrasher hoodie and baggy basketball shorts. These looks, whether at the gym or on the street, are easy to wear, democratic, worn-in, and understated. They send a clear message: "Yes, I do look cool. No, I don't try THAT hard."
As I thought more about dust fits as a trend, I realized my own father had been rocking this look since all my fits were onesies. He's the kind of guy who will pull up to almost any event—dinner, meeting with a client, a winter trip to the bookstore—in Patagonia shorts, a road race T-shirt, and a tattered Nike sweatshirt from the early aughts, all paired with whichever running shoes are currently in rotation. He was never concerned about brand loyalty or making sure his socks matched his shoes. I liked to make fun of him for his lack of care, but I'm only just now realizing that he had it figured out all along.
"Any bozo can go to The Grove and get the latest Nike Pro... The dust fit is for a seasoned player."
I wanted to discuss the phenomenon with a friend, so I called Daniel Hall, a photographer and director (and fitness enthusiast) based in Los Angeles who has been known to successfully pull off dust fits at the gym. His observations were astute. "Any bozo can go to The Grove and get the latest Nike Pro," he said. "The dust fit is for a seasoned player, one who has seen and done it all and is now ready to mix things up." Before he let me go, though, he stressed one important detail: "A true dust fit has at least one element of high-end performance gear involved," he said. Just like fashion, you can mix high and low at the gym! Thankfully, I could still wear my $100 shorts. My eyes had been opened.
After some reflection, I decided it was time to work the dust fit into my routine. I could pair my $100 Nike shorts with an old Dime t-shirt, Thorlo running socks, and New Balance 990s. I could wear cut off Champion sweatpants with a Nike Dri-Fit top, Beams socks, and Nike Zoom Flys. The options were endless! It opened up my gym wardrobe, and if I am honest, it looked cooler. I could go from the gym to lunch with a friend without looking like I was spending $300 a month on Equinox. This sort of sartorial flexibility is something I should have learned from my dad years ago. The sleek ninja look didn't fit my personality. I was spending a lot of money and overcompensating to feel superior in the gym, and now that the gear was locked in I could go back to focusing on my gains. Dust fits are the fittest of them all.
Chris Black is a partner at Public Announcement. Follow him on Twitter.
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