I copied Kim K’s sports thot look for a day and I strongly recommend you don’t
People looked at me like they were concerned for my health
Kim Kardashian could literally wear anything and still look fit. She has been doing a "sports thot" look for a while now which involves pairing tracksuit bottoms or cycling shorts with heels.
Kardashian-obsessed brand Missguided have decided to rinse the Yeezy line, releasing a new range under the name The New Essentials. They're charging £10 for some white cycling shorts and £22 for a hoodie that looks like it was taken from the Primary School lost property bin.
The problem is, no one except Kim K can wear this and get away with it. The only place people wear this stuff is on Instagram, you know the photos I am talking about: undone popper pants and open-toe heels. There is also absolutely no occasion this look would be appropriate for in real life. Night club bouncers would be like, "we can't let you inside with PJs on". And equally, if you tried to wear it to your weekend big shop at Morrisons, the heels would give you loads of blisters.
To prove cycling shorts and heels is the most impractical outfit ever, I head out on a Sunday to do my normal routine of self-care and boring life admin to prove no one can properly function in these clothes.
I start getting dressed. The “top” is essentially a bra but without the padding, I would be more covered in an Ann Summers push up. The worst is the shorts: the white jersey makes my ass look peachy, but the Kim K booty is more on my belly than anything else. Also, if I wasn't wearing copious amounts of fake tan, the murky colours would totally wash me out.
Aware that I look like I do my clothes shopping in The Original Factory Shop, I headed to the off licence to get snacks. Whilst normally the owner Mr Saattai gets all salty when I insist on paying 98p for Walkers crisps with a contactless card, today he treated me way different.
“You want Lucozade? Take a drink, take any drink”.
I can’t tell if he was generous because he wanted me to leave and I was definitely scaring off customers, or because he liked the fact my pink knickers were radiating through my shorts. Maybe both.
Next up is Tesco for the weekly shop. Every time I lean down my tits sway out my top, reaching down for the Tesco Essentials items at the bottom is strictly off limits.
But one advantage to my outfit is everyone dispersed from the self-checkout queue soon as I walked over. I heard vague sniggering from behind but at least I got to scan my broccoli in peace.
As I crossed the road loads of cars stopped even though the light was green, so this look is obviously useful for traffic safety. Maybe white cycling shorts could be the new hi-vis?
Walking down the street felt like a catwalk with everyone watching. Only problem is I can’t walk in heels, I'm walking like a tyrannosaurus rex. My shoulders are hunched, my neck is rolling back and forth, I make tiny quick steps.
Most cars beep at me, men lolled out the window but they didn’t have much to say. It’s like when everything is on a plate, what is the point shouting “nice tits”. They were totally overwhelmed by all my skin.
Feeling hungry I head to Pret where I was expecting everyone to stare at me, but instead they were doing everything within their power not to look. Staring at the floor and mumbling, “sorry, sorry” every time they came near me.
I sit in the window next to this guy who is watching numbers on the stock market, he gives me some side eye, apologises when his thigh briefly touches mine and then gazes back at his screen.
Midway through this very nonchalant picture of me riding a bicycle, the guy at the nearby kebab shop beckons me over.
This changes everything. Normally when you ask to come behind the counter to help put the garlic sauce on your doner or whatever, they are like: "calm down or I will kick you out". But this guy was well up for it, as well as letting me touch the food scraper, he asks if it is okay if his friend takes a picture of us.
"Are you a model?" he asks.
He will be sad when he realises I cannot boost his Instagram following.
Sports thot girls are always posting pictures climbing out of expensive Land Rovers, or maybe Fiat 500s. So obviously I went to go and pose with this sweet whip. Some guys in orange Ellesse tracksuits and Supreme nod at me, they obviously were into my very fashun pose. Strange though because my hoodie looks like something I'd wear when cuddling up in front of Come Dine with Me.
This sort of treatment does not extend to public transport. Whilst I was taking dynamic shots topping up my Oyster card, some Mum wearing lots of Cath Kidston with a Waitrose canvas bag ushers her child away from me as if I’m a public safety issue. I mean I get it, I am basically wearing Spanx, except Spanx might actually cover my knickers.
Leaving the station, my feet hurt so much. I might have to start dragging a leg. And considering how the tan colour of my boots makes it look like I have bare feet, it is so not worth it.
There is a massive space around me everywhere I walk. Old men look at me and grimace so hard their chin retreats into their neck, women look concerned like they should give me their business card and say “call me anytime”.
I am off to Spoons: my safe place.
The staff seem confused as to why I am here, tentatively pouring me a Stella like I got lost on the way to spinning class.
Midway through reading the menu a builder approaches, “you got a boyfriend?”
So basically, fuck Tinder, just go out in skin-tight khaki and you will get shit loads of marriage requests. I smile and shift in my seat, and he does a double take, decides he doesn't actually like what he sees, and swiftly leaves for a fag.
Next is McDonald's.
The bright lighting exposes all my cellulite through my shorts, it looks like cottage cheese stuffed in tights and you can see the “95% cotton label”.
Sat outside some woman gives me a sheepish, supportive smile like I was brought up wrong or something. Some 18-year-olds in blazers who are quite obviously fresh out of work experience at their Dad’s company, hold their chips up to their mouth but stop eating.
I might be getting a lot of attention but it is actually exhausting. My thighs burn, it's so difficult to keep the hoodie at the right angle, my shoulder is suggestively exposed, my wig is itchy, I feel fat for the first time in ages and if I don't take off these sock boots in the next five minutes I think my toes might actually snap off.
So, today I learned the sports thot look should never be worn in public, ever. This is a warning: Don't give Missguided your money because there is no way you will look like Kim Kardashian.