There are days when I wake up already tired. Not physically — but mentally. The kind of tired that comes from juggling too many tabs in your brain. Deadlines, messages, family, expectations, the constant pressure to be productive and polished at the same time. And on those mornings, I’ve learned something about myself: if I don’t move my body, I feel stuck in my head all day.

Movement has always been my reset button.

I’ve been running for over eleven years now. Two marathons, several half marathons, endless early alarms, countless playlists, and that familiar pre-race nervous energy that never really goes away. At the same time, fashion has shaped my life just as deeply. I’ve spent years working in editorial spaces, analyzing silhouettes, textures, how fabric falls on the body, how color influences mood. For a long time, these were two separate loves. Running shoes on one side, heels on the other. Sports bras in one drawer, tailored blazers in another.

But somewhere along the way, those worlds blended.

Now, when I sign up for a class, I don’t just think about how hard it will be. I think about how I want to feel in it.

A few weeks ago, I booked a heated C2 class at CorePower Yoga in Midtown East. If you’ve never taken a heated power vinyasa class before, let me paint the picture: the room is warm the second you step inside, your skin starts reacting immediately, and before the first Sun Salutation, you already know this won’t be a gentle stretch-and-breathe situation. It’s strength disguised as flow. It’s detox wrapped in discipline.

I remember rolling out my mat and thinking, “Okay, let’s see if this outfit can keep up.”

That morning I wore a set from Prana — a brand I’ve always appreciated for its subtle, grounded aesthetic. Nothing flashy. No loud logos. Just clean lines and thoughtful construction. The bra had thin racerback straps, which I’ll admit made me slightly nervous because I prefer solid support, especially in heated environments where everything feels amplified. But once we began moving, I stopped thinking about it. That’s always my first test: do I forget what I’m wearing?

The fabric felt light but secure, almost like it was adapting to my body temperature as the room heated up. By the third vinyasa flow, sweat was already rolling down my spine. By the fifth, it was everywhere. And yet the material didn’t cling in that uncomfortable, heavy way some fabrics do. It breathed. It dried quickly. It didn’t darken dramatically or make me self-conscious. In a room full of strong, focused women moving in unison, that matters more than we say out loud.

The leggings were high-waisted — the kind that gently “hold” you without feeling restrictive. During longer holds in Crescent Lunge and balancing sequences that tested every stabilizing muscle I have, they stayed exactly where they were supposed to. No rolling, no adjusting. There’s something deeply freeing about not having to tug at your waistband mid-flow.

Halfway through class, when the instructor guided us into a slower strength sequence, I noticed something else: I felt confident. Not because I looked perfect — I definitely didn’t — but because nothing about my clothing distracted me. I could focus on breath, alignment, the quiet shake in my legs.

After class, stepping back into the cool Midtown air, I felt completely emptied out in the best way. That post-heated-yoga glow is different from a run or a HIIT class. It’s softer. Almost meditative. And as I walked home, still slightly flushed, I realized how much the right gear had supported the experience without overpowering it.

A few days later, I stepped into a completely different world.

If CorePower feels grounded and communal, Alo Wellness Club feels curated and intentional. The lighting is softer. The aesthetic is refined. Everything looks like it belongs in a minimalist design magazine. I was there for a Reformer Pilates class, and I already knew it would challenge me in a different way.

I’ve taken plenty of high-intensity classes before — formats like Solidcore that push you to the edge with fast pulses and minimal rest. But this session was slower. Controlled. Every movement deliberate. The kind of class where you can’t hide behind speed.

For that workout, I wore the Heart Throb set from Alo Yoga. The first thing you notice about it is the design detail at the back — subtle contrast piping that curves in a way that highlights shape without being obvious about it. Feminine, but not overdone. Stylish, but still functional.

On the Reformer, where movements are small and precise, fabric texture becomes very noticeable. This set felt soft and smoothing, almost like a second layer of skin that followed each micro-adjustment. It wasn’t built for intense sweat like the Prana set — and that’s okay. Pilates doesn’t demand the same moisture-wicking performance. It demands control.

There’s a moment in almost every Pilates class when your muscles start shaking and you question your life choices. Mine came during a slow leg series where my core had to stay engaged while my lower body moved against resistance. I caught my reflection in the mirror — flushed, focused, slightly trembling — and I felt strong in a completely different way than I had in the heated yoga room.

Less explosive. More refined.

That’s something I’ve started to appreciate deeply: strength isn’t one-dimensional.

Sometimes it’s powering through a heated vinyasa flow while your heart races.
Sometimes it’s holding a slow, controlled movement while every small muscle fiber lights up.

And what you wear influences that experience more than we admit.

There was a time when I thought activewear was just practical. Something you throw on because you have to. Now I see it as an extension of identity. Some days I crave bold color and energy. Other days I want clean lines and minimalism. Both are reflections of mood. Both are valid.

I also think there’s something powerful about women dressing for themselves in fitness spaces. Not to impress anyone. Not for a perfect social media shot. But because feeling put together creates a quiet confidence that carries into the workout.

I don’t dress up for class — I dress intentionally.

At CorePower Yoga, I needed performance-driven fabric that could handle heat and movement. At Alo Wellness Club, I wanted something that matched the calm, curated energy of the studio.

Both experiences reminded me that there isn’t one “best” brand or one “perfect” outfit. There’s only what works for the moment you’re stepping into.

And maybe that’s what this whole journey has really been about for me — learning to listen to what I need. Some mornings I need to sweat everything out in a heated room. Other days I need slow, controlled strength that makes me feel lengthened and grounded.

What I’ve stopped doing is separating fashion and fitness in my mind. They are not opposites. They’re conversations. Fabric technology, silhouette design, waistband structure — these details aren’t superficial when they impact performance and comfort.

But beyond the technical side, there’s something emotional happening too.

When I walk into a studio feeling comfortable and confident, I move differently. I stand taller. I push harder. I stay present.

And in a world that constantly asks women to shrink themselves — physically, emotionally, energetically — choosing to take up space on a mat or a reformer machine feels quietly rebellious.

So no, this isn’t just about leggings or sports bras.

It’s about how movement reconnects me to myself.
It’s about how thoughtful design can support that reconnection.
It’s about honoring both strength and softness without choosing one over the other.

I don’t always feel motivated.
I don’t always feel stylish.
I don’t always feel strong.

But every time I step into a class — whether it’s heated yoga or slow-burn Pilates — I leave knowing I showed up for myself.

And lately, that feels like the most important fit check of all.