The Luxury Jock, who’s origin story goes far beyond Emily Oberg’s Instagram feed, is the epicure’s approach to wellness. The cost of the Luxury Jock’s medicine cabinet is equal to that of health insurance, and in it you’ll find everything from ice rollers, Lord Jones CBD oil, and adaptogen powders for every ailment. The LJ is fully immersed in both physical and aesthetic endeavors. New Balances and cyrotherapy are always in rotation, and there’s a stash of electrolyte tablets in their desk.
The LJ is well kept and groomed, tidy, and has a disciplined amount of self-respect. They use the best, high-performing products; think Buly, Byredo, Baxter of California. They play tennis in the summer, run in the winter, and carry their toiletries in a worn leather pouch or nylon Prada case. Luxury Jock isn’t being a type of person, it’s reaching nirvana state. They come in many forms, wearing either rugby sweaters or Uniqlo Ultra Light Down vest’s beneath their camel coat. They might even have compression tights made of tweed and wear driving loafers to the gym.
The idea of wellness seems to always be trending, which is what happens to all timeless things. The concept of health intermingling with luxury has bastardized the wellness industry, which has become this esoteric hub for people willing to spend $28 on an acai bowl. Some do it to fit in, some to it because they can, and some do it because they care.
Self-care, inherently, is the ultimate luxury. Gwyneth Paltrow and Patrick Bateman are pioneers of this lifestyle, but it all goes back to OG Hippocrates who said that thing about food being thy medicine. Spending money, and even more so time, on your well-being is honestly the biggest indulgence. For something that is considered a virtue, maintaining your health is approached more as a vice.
In a rare instance, the Luxury Jock is made cool by both marketing AND science. The last decade we’ve been screamed at to give a shit about our health, to buy our wheatgrass shots, join Soulcycle, and get our nightly 8 hours. But at what cost?
I’m that person who drops bank on “healthcare” – shoutout to OHIP. In first year uni, I had a Whole Foods right on campus and 100% of my paycheck’s went to my DIY lunchable I’d make at their salad bar: an overzealous equal ratio of spinach, black olives, salmon, sweet potatoes, grilled veggies, raisins, and a hard-boiled egg if I feel like it (lol trust me it’s really good), all for the small price of I’ll just go fuck myself. I like my trousers with Stan Smiths, I snort matcha powder, and use the Pubmed app as much as Instagram. I’m unapologetically stoic with my workout schedule, maintaining my circadian rhythm, and not forgetting to foam roll. I’m also the most annoying person ever. I guess once you find what helps you work best, you don’t compromise it.
The LJ may also have influenced the evolution of street-wear, turning it into more of meditative practice rather than a beauty pageant. ‘Being’ LJ is being simple. It’s about basic efficiency, working well, and cultivating a refined approach. The ultimate LJ’s are the one’s who aren’t trying to be, Yvon Chouinard, Haruki Murakami, Ben Greenfield, etc. Just like how No Frills’ No Name brand is the original Off-White, the Luxury Jock is what hype-beasts wish to be, but could never.