It’s hard to believe that the Olympics will be over in just two days. All that mounting anticipation, painstaking preparation, and equal parts triumph and heartbreak—well, it all comes to a poignant end this very Sunday.
It already seems a tad bittersweet to someone like me, who’s more or less indifferent toward sports—but imagine how much that sentiment is magnified for those athletes, their coaches, and all the avid sports fans who tune in faithfully to cheer on their idols. Sixteen days seem like hardly enough time to do justice to all the hype, which was four years in the making, in case you forgot!
Confession: I haven’t been following the games very closely. Olympic fever? Never caught it. I’ll skim through news articles of our countrymen’s performances and catch snippets of random matches on TV, but that’s mostly by accident—and it’s only inertia that keeps me from changing the channel. In fact, I’m actually quite proud that I stuck to a whole basketball game last Friday (it was Spain versus Great Britain, and the host country lost by one point—oof!).
There was one thing that had me indisputably glued to the Olympic screen. A teensy, tiny, unremarkable, insignificant event, which I’m sure you didn’t watch. You know, the Opening Ceremony? Okay, I’m joking: it was legen—wait for it—dary!
Like many people (probably a billion), I sat spellbound through the four-hour show, which made the Oscars look like a child’s birthday party. There was the fun, snazzy, star-studded video by Slumdog Millionaire director Danny Boyle at the beginning, the seriously epic lighting-of-the-torch and stadium-wide sing-a-long led by the eternally-cute Paul McCartney at the end—and between them, the interminable parade of nations in their official “kits” (AKA Olympic uniforms), with the Philippines sandwiched somewhere in the middle at letter P. When, after what seemed like an eon, Hidelyn Diaz finally emerged with our flag and her Rajo Laurel-clad teammates in tow, I cheered them on with the sudden fervor of a fangirl. (Who knew?)
I saw a lot of kits I liked, a lot I didn’t, and a few I eyed with particular curiosity because of the big names attached—Prada and Armani for Italy, the controversial Ralph Lauren for the US, Stella McCartney for Great Britain (she designed the competition uniforms, not those awful white tracksuits at the parade). All bias aside, I thought Jamaica took the cake for coolest-dressed. There was color, culture, flavor, functionality, and fashion sense in their uniforms, and you could tell that the athletes felt great in them. You could probably use those clothes in real life, post-Olympics (I would)! Clearly, when designer Cedella Marley (daughter of Bob) created those looks for Puma, she had 2012’s sporty-chic trend in mind—the same trend Rajo Laurel built his last collection around and Preview took as the theme for this year’s Best-Dressed Ball.
So maybe this is what the London Olympics leaves a non-sports-minded girl like me. Athletic attire has jumped from the gym and training ground to the runway and sartorial street—and before it’s too late, one had better get in the game. Channel your inner Sporty Spice, or so to speak. (And while we’re on the subject, don’t miss the Spice Girls’ performance at the Closing Ceremony!)
Ready to get your athlete on, at least, stylewise? Take a crash course to sporty-sleek, below!