How to Leave the Gym Looking Like Taylor Swift



Taylor Swift doesn't sweat.
I discovered this little bit of science when I worked out last week. She is a wizard, an alien, or is missing the gene that causes us to perspire. That's the only explanation.
After seeing all the photos of the singer visiting the gym recently—sporting heels, girly dresses, red lips, and perfect hair in the Taylor swiftest of ways—and looking impeccable entering and exiting, I felt inspired to exercise, Taylor Swift-style.
I began my morning with a shower—something I would never do before visiting the gym. I blow dried my hair, straightened it, and carefully applied makeup. I arrived 15 minutes late because I took extra time working on the cowlick at the back of my head. But I knew, like Taylor, I would be photographed, and thus, it would be time well spent. I don't put that much effort into getting ready for work.



Entering the gym in heels and red lipstick at 10 a.m., I felt like an asshole. Maybe if I was coming from work I wouldn't have minded, but knowing full well I'd dressed up to go work out, I felt incredibly self conscious as I made my way to the locker room. I quickly changed into my athletic gear and wiped off the lipstick as best I could. Then I faced my first real problem: how do I keep my silk dress wrinkle-free? Perhaps Tay has her own locker that's tall enough to hang an outfit or her bag-toting bodyguard holds it like a human coat hanger, but with neither of things in front of me, I employed my best artful draping technique and stuffed it into my little cubby.
Then I worked out. In a particularly endorphin-y moment, I downloaded Taylor Swift's latest album, "Red"—I was feeling good, glow-y, 22, etc. Then, two songs in, I started to sweat. A few minutes later I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and cringed—I resembled the angry, tomato-faced emoji I'm normally so fond of. What would Taylor do? I thought to myself, and mid-"I Knew You Were Trouble," I cut my workout short at 45 minutes.
Returning to the locker room, I readied myself to tackle the problem at hand. Before embarking on this journey, I'd anticipated a few sticky (literally) hurdles, one being how to salvage my now sweaty blowout. Before Swiftifying myself, I'd reached out to Alli Webb, the founder of Drybar to get her expert opinion: "It’s a healthy challenge to preserve your blowout through a workout class, but it can be done if you’re okay with coming out with a little Mai Tai aka a beachy hair look," she wrote in an e-mail. "Simply use a little dry shampoo at your roots by sectioning your hair, lifting, and spraying about four to five inches from your scalp. You can also re-blow out the front (bangs/fringe) which is a great way to get another day or two out of your blowout."



But one thing I didn't contend with was the sweat...all the sweat. I'm not even a sweaty person, but there was no way I was going to merely towel off and put my dress back on—and I bet Taylor doesn't either. So I made my way to the showers, and in doing so, I did something Taylor Swift definitely doesn't do: I walked on the bathroom floor of a gym in bare feet. Gag.
Making the water as cold as I could stand, I carefully rinsed off, focusing on my upper neck and the top of my forehead, doing my best to shield my hair. All in all, it was a pretty high-stress shower experience. Deciding that it was as good as it was going to get, I returned to the locker room to begin the challenge of re-assembling myself.
First I blow dried my hair for the second time that day, then spritzed some dry shampoo up in there for good measure. As I was applying my makeup again, brushing on powder galore in an attempt to mask my skin's beet-red hue, I noticed that I was emitting heat. My under-eye concealer basically melted into my face—in more of a gross gelatinous way than a Gisele, glowing effect—and my hair was starting to poof. I was a sauna and it wasn't pretty. This became even more evident when I attempted to slip back into my dress: there was no slipping, just sticking. It was in this moment that I realized Taylor Swift can't actually sweat..Or the US Weekly reports are true and she spends an hour getting ready post-workout—45 minutes of which must consist of her just sitting, de-furnacing.



Redressed and feeling decidedly more rumpled, I met my body guard at the door, handed him my "gym bag," and got ready to face the paparazzi (cough, ELLE.com photographer, Katie Friedman, cough). I exited with confidence and returned to my waiting SUV.


lmao


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