Those of you who flip though the Pique’s classifieds every week hoping to see something else other than the buckets at Cows under the Free Stuff heading, should know the news by now.
Lululemon is coming to town. If you don’t know what Lululemon is I’d say there isn’t much hope for you.
You’d be wrong to guess that it’s a new girlie punk band playing at Garf’s this week or a tangy new shooter on the shooter wheel. It’s not a new flavour of ice cream at the above-mentioned ice cream shop or an exotic dancer coming to the Boot ballet.
Lululemon is only the trendiest name in yoga wear.
So move over Nike, make room Champion and don’t get so cocky Whoosh. There’s a new brand in town and it’s coming to one of the most brand-conscious places on earth.
We in Whistler are walking billboards, giant advertisements, with logos on our toques, gloves, jackets, pants, goggles. We’re branded right down to our underwear.
So you can be sure that Whistler will love Lululemon just as it loves all the others brands, from The North Face to Descente and the dozens more in between, clamouring for their fair market share.
We can’t help it. Brands make us feel good and safe and just like everyone else.
They are status symbols helping us define who we are.
The first time I remember being conscious of brands was when I was about eight years old. We were at the cottage – a place where brands didn’t exist… until my cousins came to visit.
One day we were all on the dock having a cannonball competition when all of a sudden they started pointing at my dad’s shirt in hysterics. With peals of laughter they announced that the man playing polo on the horse was upside down. In other words, dad was wearing a cheap Ralph Lauren knock-off.
I remember being vaguely mortified of this average blue T-shirt even at eight years old. It was a fake. Somehow dad was totally uncool. That was a defining moment in my young life. Boom! I was now brand conscious. Strangely, it never affected my dad in the same way. He remains as clueless about brands (unless you’re talking the difference between a Jag and a Tercel) as ever before. Dad never saw that guy on the horse so it didn’t really matter if he was upside down or right side up. To him it was just a clean blue T-shirt.
Later on in my teenage years my brand loyalties extended far and wide from clothes to food and even electronics.
When I was about 15 years old I asked for a Walkman for Christmas. I pointed out the one I wanted in the Canadian Tire catalogue – the yellow SONY waterproof Walkman. It was the exact same one that everyone else in school had. So on Christmas morning I ran down the stairs and was presented with a rather large box.
Right away I knew something was wrong. This was too big and heavy to be the Sony Walkman I thought to myself as I gave my parents a watery smile. After slowing undoing the wrapping paper, I stared down at the monstrosity in my hands. There it was – a teal green relic of the early ’80s that must have been the same size and weight as the Holy Bible (Old and New Testaments combined) complete with massive orange earmuff-like headphones so I could bop along to the music.
"Ummmm, this is not the Sony walkman I asked for," I declared in the snotty-nosed voice that belongs solely to 15-year-old girls.
"What bargain basement did you find this in?"
It was a Christmas catastrophe in the making.
One word led to another and pretty soon the so-called walkman was snatched out of my "selfish and ungrateful" hands to be given "to some poor souls who know how to appreciate these things."
"But I asked for a Sony," I ventured meekly, hoping to justify my bad behaviour.
And that became known as the year I ruined Christmas.
I don’t think I’m quite as determined in my brand loyalties these days. When once there was a general uproar in the house if my mom brought home anything other than Campbell’s soup, Tropicana orange juice, Heinz ketchup etc., now there’s only general murmurs of unrest.
Now that I actually have to pay for food myself I’m less likely to scoff at the no-names. In fact, I have very little brand loyalty when I’m at Save On Foods. There my only loyalty is to the little yellow Save On stickers.
So that brings me back to Lululemon. How can I possibly have any brand loyalty to a store I’ve never been to and clothes I’ve never worn. I’ve only done yoga a few times in my life. And when I have done my sun salutes in the past it’s in a washed-out Frosh Week T-shirt leftover from my university days – one of those old one-size-fits-all numbers that that hangs closer to your knees than your waist. (How can one size ever fit all anyway?) You know the kind of shirt I’m talking about. There’s absolutely nothing trendy about it.
So I went to the Lululemon Web site to see what all the fuss was about and there I realized that they’re not just selling clothes. They’re selling a way of life.
Check out the company manifesto which includes these tenets on how to live your life:
• Drink FRESH water and as much water as you can.
• Wear sunscreen.
• Visualize your eventual demise.
• Love.
• Dance, sing, floss and travel.
• Wake up and realize you are surrounded by amazing friends.
I guess the inference here is that if you wear Lululemon, you too can have a healthy, stress-free life, and look trendy to boot.
What can I say, I’m hooked. Sign me up.
