Leave your judgement at the door, people.
Especially if that door is leading you into a sweaty, unbecoming scenario where what you’re wearing or how perfectly your eyeliner curves are the last things you care about. I’ve been going to hot yoga and I can only say that, as much as I’m a fan of cool workout clothing, after about two minutes in there, all I care about it breathing/not dying. My pastel pink sports bra is now a murky warped print of sweat stains and that super effortless french braid is stuck to the back of my neck. (And it’s not going anywhere.)
And it’s at that moment that I finally feel free — of judgement (everyone else is in the same position, just gasping for air), care (could. not. care. less.), inhibitions (the sweat on my face is now blinding me, so no I don’t care that I have a sweat mustache, but thanks for asking). It’s one of the reasons why I love that stuffy, humid room so much. Being in New York, you’re always a little bit vulnerable to what other people are thinking — the judgements of people on the street. And there are a million other situation that liberate you in the same way: moving day (old tees and sweaty backs for all!), break up days (makeup and care replaced by ice-cream and chocolate), and when it’s too hot/cold outside (vive la… crop tops or puffer jackets!).
What have been your moments of freedom, away from judgement? Or the moments when you couldn’t care whether you were walking down the street in a thong or a garbage bag..?
Elle Macpherson for Vogue.