Bury Me In This Spanx Sweatsuit
Perhaps the best part of these sweats is that they come with an unexpected community. Once I got my first set, I felt as if I’d been sworn into a secret society. Like Freemasons of loungewear, AirEssentials owners tend to discreetly identify and greet one another in the wild. (Think murmured, conspiratorial exchanges in the produce aisle.)
And we have a burning desire to recruit others. My best friend Jenna initiated me, back in 2024 — she swanned in, bragging about her AirEssentials jumpsuit, and I lunged for my laptop — and I’ve gone on to convert multiple people since, including my mother.
Alas, not everyone has co-signed on my AirEssentials Era. My husband, for instance, can’t resist making snarky comments whenever I suit up in my spiffy loungewear. (I won’t dignify his remarks by repeating them, but his comedy set incorporates references to Carmela Soprano and the game of mah-jongg.)
Even Wirecutter style writer Zoe Vanderweide — usually unswervingly collegial — has poked gentle fun at my allegiance to these “mom sweats.” “What exactly makes them that?” I asked. (I was extra-curious, knowing that Zoe is a parent herself, and that she happened to be wearing an AirEssentials sweatshirt at that very moment.) “Maybe it’s because they have a ‘flattering’ cut,” she replied. “It feels very ‘mom’ to go for that in a sweatsuit.”
Fair enough. I get why a woman of a certain age proudly rocking a head-to-toe jersey lewk by the shapewear behemoth Spanx doesn’t exactly sound capital-C cool. But I think that’s the wrong way to look at it. What’s the real fear here: That a jaunty sweatsuit will suddenly reveal that I’m an embarrassing old dork? I am an embarrassing old dork — that ship has already sailed. (Just ask my tween son.) These elegant sweats are here to meet me where I am, all accommodation, zero judgment.
For better or worse, I’ve reached a phase of my life where street cred isn’t terribly high on my priority list. What I need right now is a pampering mom uniform that sparks joy and enables me to practice self-care in plain sight — hold the hard pants, please.
This article was edited by Hannah Rimm and Catherine Kast.
