“Love, Victor star Michael Cimino looks incredible in a newly shared photo,” reads the caption of a recent @popcrave post of the doe-eyed actor shirtless, his lower-half adorned in the sluttiest item a man can wear in the winter: baggy joggers, specifically in the shade grey marl. The comments on the post agree. “Every ounce of self respect left my body” said one user, amongst a sea of NSFW responses and accusations the 23-year-old is “daddy” replacing the “ended Nicki” claims usually found under a @popcrave tweet.
Every year, as the weather starts to get chillier, articles come out celebrating the return of grey sweatpant season — the annual tradition of kinda-basic, often-straight men wearing cuffed joggers to lounge around in when the weather is too cold for their ubiquitous five-inch Nike shorts. “Women are going crazy for guys in grey sweatpants this season” announced Elite Daily all the way back in 2015. Favoured by celebrity jocks and himbos, the likes of Zac Efron, Manu Rios, Jamie Dornan and Michael B. Jordan have all been spotted running errands or sweaty on a basketball court in the horny garment.
Why the humble grey sweat is so sexy is multifold. Of course, there’s the fact that the specific shade, shall we say, accentuates the groin. But there is also the inconspicuity of the garment; the fact that, unlike lingerie or daisy dukes or naked dresses, it is not an item of clothing that was designed for the purpose of being sexy. Sweatpants are the kind of thing you’d get out of bed and throw on, potentially with or without underwear underneath — a detail that adds to its appeal for voyeurs — and not care if it is food stained or worn-in, because all you’re going to do is pop to the shops.
Its sluttiness, then, is more of a happy coincidence and thus, the grey sweat becomes the push-up bra of exhibitionist men who want their peacocking to seem more accidental. At least, it was in the beginning. In 2016, though, the grey sweatpant challenge swept the internet and brought the horny intentions of the garment to the fore. Since then its wearers have been consequently more blatant about their thirst. The challenge culminated in sweats temporarily becoming a joke as people began poking fun at the bait-y and obvious facade of demure it holds, posting photos of Casio keyboards, Christmas trees and Pomeranians stuffed down their elasticated waistbands.
But what the grey sweat has never been, until now, is chic. Its adoration has mostly stuck to horny corners of the internet and remained in a space of low culture. Even prior to the apex of its online obsession, the loose jersey trousers — first invented in 1920 by the brand Le Coq Sportif (its slutty reputation almost feels destined) as running trousers for athletes — became associated with a young working-class ’bad boy’ archetype in the 90s and 00s.
This reputation was cemented in TV and film; they’re worn by Channing Tatum as a delinquent doing community service when he discovers breakdance. Or Channing Tatum as a stripper in a white vest, hi-tops and a baseball cap gyrating on a stage to Ginuwine’s “Pony”. Or Channing Tatum as a sweet, dim high school footballer with a tampon up his nose. It has both a lowkey Americana 00s jock vibe, and a laddish buzzcut boy energy. Mostly Channing Tatum, honestly. But buzzcut boys, Y2K and hip-hop have been a key inspiration for many designers of late and, as a result, grey sweatpants have been hitting the runways everywhere from Dior to Loewe to Givenchy.
The era of the truly chic grey sweatpant, then, was ushered in by Kim Jones’ AW22 collection for Dior Men all the way back in January of last year. Reminiscent of the designer’s AW05 menswear collection under his own name, where he continued his streak of reimagining athleticwear, Kim – who famously loves to bring an air of luxury to subcultures – tailored grey sweatpants, allowing for the garment’s soft, warm and inviting energy to be upgraded. This was paired with crisp-line bar jackets, backless blazers, japonisme lily-of-the-valley embroidered jumpers, pearl and diamond jewellery satin berets, and the Dior-collaboration Birkenstock — as if the models walking a replica of the Pont-Alexandre III had kept up the casual Zoom half-dressing of the 2020 era.
Other queer designers played on the natural and simple sexuality of sweatpants too. Also for AW22, Alled-Martinez dressed one model in string-tied cuffed grey sweats with white socks and trainers, and a grey sweatshirt, decorated with the word “vers” in cursive. Vetements, meanwhile, had grey sweatpants that pooled at chunky stomper shoes, the trouser material continuing in a hoodie, tailored pea coat and gimp-esque face mask. Then there was Institut Fashion de la Mode masters student Hugo Castejon-Blanchard, whose collection, which featured men in various states of undress and with white shorts over their head (like they’re the horny Elio exploring his sexuality in Call Me by Your Name), also had gravity-defying grey sweatpants, in that, a drooped waistband gave the implication an invisible hand was pulling them down to peer at the briefs beneath.
These same horny vibes are continuing into 2023 fashion too. Lazoschmidl had three-quarter length grey marl sweats, emphasising any bulges by lacing up at the crotch, while MM6 Maison Margiela’s Resort 23 collection featured oversized your-boyfriend’s-grey-sweats, only held up by a long drawstring loosely cinching the jersey to the models’ waists. Then there was Loewe Mens SS23, an exploration of technology and nature and the increasing codependency of each on the other, that saw plants growing through knits and coats carrying screens adorned with scenic landscape backdrops. Jonathan Anderson, whose previous collections have interpolated and queered a British laddish sexiness (think models in glittering football kits, sequinned or Fred-Perry-polo-esque singlets and visible tighty-whities), manifested a hyper-fetishised, hyper-surreal version of the mysterious badboy English lad, with a model in nothing but a baseball cap covering his eyes, trainers sprouting grass and wet grey sweatpants growing chia and cat’s wort shrubbery.
Designers outside of Europe have been playing with the loose-fitting jersey bottom’s connotations too, albeit looking to versions in US hip-hop culture which are often baggier, uncuffed at the leg and sometimes feature the top of visible undies beneath. For Givenchy SS23 Mens, Matthew Williams looked to the streetwear wardrobes he grew up around in Melrose and California. Interspersed among the slashed tailoring, embroidered leather jackets and looks reminiscent of the rap stars of the late 90s were overtly branded grey sweatpants, rhinestoned like a Paris Hilton tracksuit, though far more subtle.
Likewise for SS23, playful Japanese brand Doublet had models with frost-tipped moustaches don meta grey marl hoodies and sweatpants distressed to the point of being sheer in patches, alongside an excessive chain hanging from two huge hoop earrings (you know what they say, the bigger the hoop…). Then there was Puma, who had fun in their first show for the fashion experience Futrograde by exploring the role and possibilities of sportswear that saw, in one look, exposed boxers under exposed grey joggers under rolled up pinstripe trousers, the sweatpants being treated with the same cheeky energy as an underwear reveal.
What all these runway iterations are saying, in their own vastly different ways, is that there is a power to the unassuming and off-scent horniness of grey sweatpants. Its DL sluttiness only makes it hotter and its wearer more of a fantasy. Making it fashionable, then, will only add to its power, which in the wrong hands could be lethal. Remember when UK prime minister Rishi Sunak posted a shameless Instagram picture wearing a pair at the Conservative Party Conference in 2020 and suddenly everyone went feral, calling him “dishy Rishi” and forgetting he’s a toxic billionaire with intentions of fucking over every minority in the country? We don’t need people thinking he’s now chic too.
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All images via Spotlight