When Expensive Athletic Gear Actually Makes Sense (And When You're Getting Played)

Full disclosure: last year, my highest priced clothing purchase wasn’t a limited-release Supreme box drop or the Travis Scott Jordan 1s with the googly eyes. In fact, no one bought me those things because they’re too expensive to justify buying something you’re just going to wear while running around like a toddler. Instead, I purchased this $280 running jacket from an obscure Norwegian brand most of my friends had never heard of, Norrøna.

Emma found the receipt laying on the ground and did a double take. “You spent HOW much on athletic clothes?” she asked rhetorically. She had a point. Even eight months and 400 miles later, it feels excessive to drop that kind of money on something you’re basically going to ruin with sweat and dirt. Except I haven’t ruined it. Hell, I haven’t even washed it that much and it’s still looks brand new. It protected me from Portland rain that would have soaked through other jackets, kept me warm during those pre-sunrise jogs and best of all… doesn’t smell like ass.

Needless to say, I was inspired to buy this jacket after growing frustrated with fast fashion athletic gear wearing out too quickly. Spend $15 on some “performance” tee shirt at Target and after 10 wears, you’ve got set-in sweat stains and a shirt that feels like sandpaper. But spend $300 on something off the runway from Rare eye or Super Underrated, you’re afraid to actually wear it to the gym because it’s too fancy. That shit doesn’t make any sense. So I set out to determine what athletic gear actually performs better when you drop major cash on it, and what brands are just selling Supreme pricing on polyester.

We ask so much out of our athletic wear. Showers? Check. Machine washing and drying? Of course. Getting stuffed into a sweaty backpack or stretched out while we work out? You know it. But we also expect it to look cool when we run errands because putting on “real” clothes is such a hassle. We wonder why that $20 gym shirt from Old Navy disintegrates after two months.

I tested gear for approximately 18 months. Purchased name brand performance gear, bought cheap alternatives and worked out in all of it. (Working out, in this case, means actually exercising instead of wearing clothes with vague athletic connotations to look cool at your neighborhood coffee shop. Let’s be honest, most “athleisure” is used for this purpose.) Ran at least 300 miles, lifted heavier than I probably should have and took yoga classes that revealed I have the flexibility of a rusty dog. Half of my apartment consisted of unwashed athletic clothes and workout bags as I filled notebooks with scribbled notes on each item.

I saw the biggest changes in running gear. $68 Tracksmith Session shorts versus $20 Nike or Adidas shorts from Dick’s seemed completely ridiculous at first glance, but once I started putting miles on both pairs… no comparison. Cheap ones got that disgusting gray sweat stain that never comes out. Waistbands stretched out so much they slide down your hips mid-run. Worst of all were compression liner shorts, because the cheap ones unravel like toilet paper after a few months of use. My Tracksmith shorts feel like new after over 150 miles.

Performance works. The moisture-wicking technology actually stays dry. Fits remain consistent wash after wash, and built-in undies aren’t uncomfortably tight.

This trend held true for that Norwegian jacket. While $280 is INSANE for what is essentially a windbreaker, I’ve yet to feel miserable like I would in cheaper rain jackets. It’s breathable enough that I don’t feel like I’m running around in a trash bag, but still blocks wind and rain. Cheap fitness shells I tested always fell into one of two categories: completely waterproof so they steam you like a sauna, or breathable but useless when Mother Nature throws actual weather at you.

One major caveat: just because something is expensive doesn’t mean it always lives up to its price tag. I’ve tried $75 “technical training tees” that have paled in comparison to $25 tees from brands like Rhone. Fabric felt nicer against my skin, but not three-times-more-expensive nicer. Most gym shirts reach a plateau at around $30-40. You get better stitching and materials than your Target sweats, without paying luxury prices for slight improvements.

Athleisure cuts are where brands start ringing you up just for basic shirt-making technology. Are those Japanese joggers from Some Store a true $120 because they’ll magically make you run faster, or because they’re constructed of slim-cut cotton with minimal branding? Sure, they look crisp. Fit well. Are versatile enough to actually workout in and casually stroll around in. But for $120, how much better are they than $60 joggers? EXCEPTION: when athleisure brands like Lululemon take high performing fabrics from their actual workout gear and construct casual-fit clothes out of them. Their innovative ABC pants , for example, utilize the exact same fabrics as their workout gear. Four-way stretch, moisture-wicking, etc. It’s technically “athleisure,” but since the clothes are actually built for performance it makes sense they cost a premium.

Ten Thousand also hits different. I’ve worn their Interval shorts through every workout imaginable and they STILL fit perfect. No busted seams. Waistband doesn’t stretch out after two months. Pockets actually hold your shit. Meanwhile I’ve gone through at least five pairs of generic gym shorts in that time.

Another item that truly surprised me? SOCKS. SOCKS. Jesus Christ the socks. Who would’ve thought I’d be telling you to drop $18 on running socks, but here we are. Because once you run enough miles in every pair from the 6-packs at Walmart to the $15 SmartWool pairs to these $18 Balega Hidden Comfort socks… god do the premium ones feel like clouds. No blisters. Better cushioning. They actually STAY UP inside your shoes rather than sliding down into your ankles.

Compression shirts/tights/etc. are tricky. Some brands like 2XU actually utilize technology that provides graduated compression (higher pressure on your calves and lower pressure on your thighs, for example). That shit actually works. But do you need that for your average gym session? Doubtful. If you’re an actual athlete training multiple times a day or recovering from an injury though, you might find that spending extra on compression gear is worth it. For the average gym-goer? Budget-friendly brands offer tights that work just fine.

If there’s one athletic category where spending extra actually makes sense, it’s cold weather base layers. I tested budget-friendly long underwear all the way up to $80 Icebreaker merino wool shirts. When the temp drops to 25 degrees and you’re stubbornly still running outside (why do I do this to myself every winter??) that extra expensive base layer is what keeps you from freezing while managing moisture and odor better than the cheap stuff.

Okay final thing I’ll say about this: customer service is something that’s made me question spending extra on athletic gear. RIP the low-tier Nike shorts that fall apart after a year. Rip the $100 adidas shirt with the busted zipper Emma bought me for our anniversary. ALL of that shit would’ve been returned and replaced by customer service at premium brands like Rhone and Lululemon had we bothered. Cheap clothes are disposable because you CAN’T return a shirt that’s been washed six times.. If you take care of your expensive gear, said brands will take care of you.

TLDR: Spend big on athletic gear when you’ll be breaking it in harsh conditions. Running in the rain? Spend the extra on that high-end rain jacket. Sweat through your shirt? Premium brands give you better moisture-wicking tech. Hell, even just running around Portland in the winter requires a high-performance jacket. Trust me.

But if you’re just going to the gym to look cool and throwing on those workout clothes when you run to the store… why buy expensive garments you’ll only wear halfway? Why pay Supreme prices for a gym shirt?

Holy shit my athletic drawer is a snozzlegraph now. $15 polyester tees thrown in with $70+ running shorts. Cotton gym socks next to $25 wool ones. The only common theme between all of it is actual PERFORMANCE. How much do I ACTUALLY need this piece of clothing to do? That $280 jacket got so much use during Seattle’s Pacific Northwest bullshit winters that it’s already paid for itself. But I only lift weights 1-2x/week, so I won’t be dropping big bucks on Columbia’s premium lifting tees that I’ll barely use.

My biggest takeaways from 18 months of athletic wear testing? The <a href=”https: //sartorialhim.com/athletic-fit-vs-regular-what-those-labels-actually-mean-for-different-bodies/”>athletic wear industry</a> is no better and no worse than streetwear when it comes to charging premium prices. Companies will charge you exorbitant amounts of money for hype pieces with silly ass marketing instead of actually making items that perform better than their low-tier counterparts. The difference is that athletic brands need to actually BACK UP that “performance” with results. And when they do, spending extra on athletic gear isn’t a luxury, it’s a necessity.

Next time you’re contemplating buying that $200 workout shirt, ask yourself: am I actually going to push this garment to it’s limits? Or am I just buying into the idea that I’m the type of person who would… ? If it’s the latter, put it back on the rack. You don’t need it. If you answered yes to the former, well… Hi. I’m just like you. Welcome to the $280 jacket club. Now please excuse me while I try to convince Emma we should’ve bought two.