From Catwalk to the Treadmill: The Rise of Personal Style in Sport

I walk into the climbing gym. The lockers are lined with Salomons. An Arcteryx beanie haunts my peripheral vision. The girl next to me boasts a capri trouser she masterfully selected from some charity shop in Headingley. My sweatpants and pasta-stained vest top are no match for my peers; the substandard outfit reflecting my novice climbing abilities. But the issue isn’t their suitability for sports, it’s the fact that they don’t reflect my personality. It appears the reign of “clean girl” matching sets is over, and now the world of sportswear is dominated by personal style.

Outside of the countless indicators on reels and TikTok, Fashion YouTuber Katie Robinson was the first source I saw discussing this shift. With the chronically online community declaring 2026 the official year of “whimsy,” and the constant pursuit of a distinct identity haunting our social narrative, it is no wonder that this quest for curated uniqueness has followed us over into sport. An emphasis on personal style is not new; it is an extension of the protest against the ruthless cycle of fast fashion and microtrends. We are still trading in polyester, Shein halls, and one-buy wonders, but for many individuals the era of micro-trends has lost its appeal. It no longer cuts it to exist online as a part of an aesthetic group, instead, the culture has shifted so that your aesthetic must be your own. Not only that, but your aesthetic must transfer into your hobbies.

This crossover is a defining phenomenon of 2026. There is a social push to create texture in our lives outside the repetitive bubble of doomscrolling, a pursuit for the analogue, for nostalgia, and of hobbies, a combination that perfectly presents itself at the intersection of fashion and sport. But when I first saw this trend cycle begin, it appeared not as a statement about clothing, but as a movement to make sports more accessible. Creators challenged expectations in the gym and running culture, encouraging viewers to simply wear what they wanted, or already owned. It did not have to match, simply be comfy. We were reassured that our charity-shop vest tops were cool, who needs a matching ALO set when you could have something uniquely you? But as this trend morphs outside the internet and into the real world, I have to ask: where do its roots truly lie?

Katie Robinson claims one of the first signs of this trend was Susmie’s ‘90s-workout-themed Black Friday ad. A colourful glimpse into Pilates of the past, it showcases their collection through a sepia tinted, sweat stained lens. Nostalgia, hobby culture, and filmed through an analogue camera; the defining trio of 2026, how could we not draw inspiration? The dance world has also always been a source for the intersection of fashion and sport. The 2022 “balletcore” trend gave us ballet cardigans and pink tights, whilst the wardrobe of LA dancers, baggy pants, cut up hoodies, and tiny sports bras, set the precedent for cool. It is clear that fashion has always intertwined with the world of dance. Alongside this, countless creators now discuss how to get the “90s yoga mum” look. Sporting cotton and crop tops, she is elegant, athletic, and true to herself. Think Natasha from Sex and the City takes on the downward dog. Who wouldn’t want to embody that? This pattern of identity extends to the outdoors too, with “hikingcore” becoming another trending hashtag. The granola girl is not new, but she certainly has a new capsule wardrobe. As being offline becomes a luxury, Oakley beanies and Patagonia fleeces seem to fit in naturally amongst crystal-blue lakes and rolling hills. Personal style still matters, yes, but now it’s expected to mirror your hobbies and wider interests. It’s no longer just that your wardrobe adapts to sport, but that sport must fit seamlessly into the aesthetic narrative you’ve created.

Simultaneously, you must show your own hand, perhaps with a vintage jacket or gym bag, a shoe in your favourite colour, or a hair accessory typically too outrageous for the treadmill. Wider fashion trends are also infiltrating sport. Layering tops, vests over teeshirts or tee-shirts over thermals, are appearing in the gyms. Baggy trousers cuffed at the ankle, legging-like capris, striped tops, or previously mentioned ballet cardigans all add to an endless list of ways you can present your persona in your sport.

So, what does this tell us about fashion in Leeds? Well, it depends. Leeds Sport Society members continue to boast their classic dark-green three-quarter zips, complete with a riddle of white initials on their backs highlighting their participation in societies like hockey, football, dance or frisbee. But on the pitch, in the gym, or out in the world, the rise of personal style in sport is still finding its feet. While I will be thinking twice about wearing my pyjamas to the climbing gym, there is no indication that personal style is affecting athletic performance, rather it is simply a nod to those more chronically online, a status symbol. They don’t just wear cool clothes. They don’t just play sports. They are complex and highly curated individuals, and their outfits are showcasing that.

Words by Ruby Field, she/her