I was on the phone with my mother the other night, drunkenly dictating my Christmas list to her. Yes, I am 25 and my mother still asks me for a Christmas List. Last year included a crock pot. Fucking money. If I can't have a wedding registry, I may as well get a Christmas List. This year's list includs a bookcase from West Elm (which Mom told me half of which was a birthday present that I never received), a 12-pack of Dr. Scholls gellins and some 80 dollar yoga pants.
And don't smirk at my Dr. Scholls. Probably the most amazing little stocking stuff ever. Transforms every last awesomely hot, but awesomely excruciating heels into flats. Kind of.
And don't smirk at my 80 dollar yoga pants. Mom squealed about it already. Wants to know if the pants come with the ohms and transcendence already tucked inside the perfect little key pocket in the back. Sadly, no transcendence. Just hot ass pants. I get that Lululemon is the downfall of the True Meaning of Yoga, but they're great. I'm not changing my mind. My butt looks too good for you to convince me otherwise.
But then, I found these:
Is it a jean? Or a yoga pant? Why, it's both! Someone call Descartes. It's the yoga pant that THINKS it's a jean! It really must be worth 80 dollars, since it has a brain. The Pant thinks you should go to class more often. The Pant thinks you should put that ice cream down. The Pant thinks you're not really putting 110% into this. The Pant thinks arm stands are easy and you're just a pussy.
Not to get all George Will on you, but have we really become a society that needs its sporting wear (is yoga really a sport - apparently, the Bikrams have competitions) to look like regular wear?
I'll say this: I don't think these guys will fly on Casual Friday.