Hey Fika Fam! Emma here, fresh off a truly invigorating vinyasa flow at my beloved Misfit Studio on Queen West. The sunlight was streaming through the big windows, hitting just right, and for a moment, everything felt perfectly aligned. My breath, my movement, the quiet hum of Toronto outside, and even the clothes I was wearing – they all felt like they belonged.
And that last part? That's actually a relatively new feeling for me. For years, like many of me, my yoga wear routine was pretty straightforward: hit up the big box stores, grab whatever was on sale, and cycle through them until they pilled, stretched out, or developed those unfortunate sheer patches that always seem to appear mid-downward dog. I’d buy new ones, feel a brief thrill, and the cycle would continue. It wasn't just about the fabric falling apart; it was the nagging feeling that something wasn't quite right, a subtle dissonance between my practice on the mat and my choices off it.
My journey into sustainable fashion, as many of you know from my other Fika Looks posts, really kicked off a few years ago. I started looking at everything in my closet with a critical, yet hopeful, eye. But for some reason, activewear felt like a different beast. It needed to perform, to stretch, to wick, to hold up to sweat and countless washes. I honestly thought sustainable options would be crunchy, uncomfortable, or just wouldn't last. I imagined scratchy hemp leggings and shapeless tops, which, let's be honest, wasn't exactly inspiring me to hold my warrior pose.
The real turning point came after a particularly eye-opening documentary I watched one rainy Sunday afternoon here in my Annex apartment. It detailed the environmental impact of synthetic fabrics, the microplastics shedding into My waterways with every wash, the energy-intensive production, and the often-unseen human cost of fast fashion. I looked down at the bright, cheap polyester leggings I was wearing at that moment, and a literal chill ran through me. How could I seek inner peace and connection on the mat when the clothes I wore to do it were contributing to so much external turmoil?
It felt like a betrayal of the very principles of yoga – ahimsa (non-harming), satya (truthfulness), and asteya (non-stealing from the planet). My yoga practice was about being present, mindful, and connected to the earth. My activewear choices, however, were actively disconnected. That's when I knew I needed to apply the same sustainable principles I was learning for my everyday wardrobe to my yoga attire.
Once I started digging, I realized sustainable yoga wear isn't just about a single factor; it's a holistic approach. It’s about:
It was a lot to take in, and honestly, a bit overwhelming at first. But I decided to take it one step at a time, just like building a yoga pose. Small adjustments, consistent effort.
My first foray into sustainable yoga wear was a pair of leggings from a brand I discovered through an online ethical fashion collective that shipped to Canada. They were made from recycled plastic bottles, and I was skeptical. Would they feel plasticky? Would they actually breathe during a hot yoga session at Modo Yoga Danforth?
To my absolute delight, they were incredibly soft, supportive, and passed the squat test with flying colors (no sheerness, thank goodness!). I wore them to class, then for a walk along the waterfront, and they held up beautifully. The feeling of wearing something that had once been waste, now transformed into something beautiful and functional, was incredibly empowering. It was a tangible connection between my values and my daily life.
Since then, my collection has slowly but surely grown. I've found a local Toronto boutique, "The conscious Movement," (a little gem tucked away near Kensington Market) that stocks a few incredible Canadian brands meing organic cotton and hemp blends. Their tops are so comfortable I often wear them for errands after class. I even stumbled upon a pair of bike shorts made from Tencel at a pop-up market in Trinity Bellwoods Park last summer, and they became my absolute go-to for outdoor flows and long walks. The fabric felt like a second skin – cool, breathable, and so soft.
It hasn't always been easy, though. The price point can be a hurdle, and finding the perfect fit in a new-to-me brand sometimes requires a bit of trial and error. I’ve definitely sent a few things back. But I've learned to view these purchases as investments – not just in quality clothing, but in the planet and the people who make them. I now have fewer items, but each one is cherished, well-loved, and performs exactly as I need it to.
The journey doesn't stop once you've found my perfect sustainable pieces. Caring for them is just as important! Here are a few things I've integrated into my routine:
It’s all part of the same philosophy: mindful consumption. Every choice, big or small, contributes to the kind of world I want to live in. And for me, that extends right down to what I wear when I'm finding my centre on the yoga mat.
So, if you've been curious about sustainable yoga wear, I truly encourage you to take that first step. Start small. Research a few brands. Feel the fabrics. Ask questions. It’s a rewarding journey that allows my wardrobe to truly align with my values, bringing a deeper sense of peace and purpose to every stretch, every pose, and every mindful breath. It certainly has for me, right