KTLA’s Andy Riesmeyer didn’t tiptoe into this story, because the moment you say “see-through leggings” out loud, it’s already awkward, and Lululemon has managed to make it even worse by how it explained the problem.
The basics, as Riesmeyer lays them out: Lululemon pulled its “Get Low” training tight after customers complained the pants were see-through when bending or squatting, which is about the most basic performance test leggings can face in real life.
The extra sting is the price, because this wasn’t a bargain-bin mistake; it’s a $108 product, and the whole brand identity is built on the idea that you’re paying for quality and confidence, not a “hope and pray” fabric situation.
Riesmeyer says the update came from reporting that Lululemon leadership told employees the issue wasn’t the leggings, it was how customers were wearing them – specifically, customers buying tights that were too small and needing to size up, plus wear seamless, skin-toned underwear underneath.
That’s the kind of explanation that can sound like guidance in a boardroom, but out in the real world it lands like blame, because it implies the product only works if customers adjust themselves to the pants, not the other way around.
“Size Up” And “Wear Nude Underwear” Becomes The New Advice
Bloomberg reporters Lily Meier and Dina Katgara put more structure around the message and where it came from, describing a meeting where executives gathered staff in Vancouver and on video from around the world to talk about plans for 2026 – only to first deal with a fresh crisis.
Meier and Katgara report that Nikki Neuburger, Lululemon’s Chief Brand and Product Activation Officer, told employees that customers weren’t wearing the new tights “right,” and that if they sized up and wore seamless skin-toned underwear, they could “get low” without revealing too much.
Riesmeyer turns that corporate messaging into something easier to hear, but also easier to cringe at: if your pants fail the squat test, Lululemon’s answer seems to be “pick a bigger size and add another layer.”
He also points out the leggings were pulled in January after complaints they were “not squat proof,” which is the exact phrase that pops up in the real world when people talk about trust in athletic wear, because nobody wants a surprise “window” when they’re just trying to do a workout.
The problem isn’t that sizing matters – of course it does – but that Lululemon is selling a premium product and asking customers to treat it like a delicate instrument that needs special instructions to function.
Why Customers Heard Blame Instead Of Help
The backlash makes sense because this isn’t just a technical explanation; it’s also a social landmine.
When a company suggests customers are “too optimistic” about their size – Riesmeyer’s phrasing – it’s going to be taken as a jab, even if the intent was to offer a practical fix, because people know what it sounds like when a brand says, “It’s not us, it’s you.”
Meier and Katgara include an outside voice that sharpens that point, quoting Neil Saunders, the managing director at GlobalData, who called the situation “a joke” and argued that if you’re selling a premium product, you shouldn’t be issuing instructions on how to wear leggings because your product is defective.
That’s the core issue: guidance becomes insulting when it’s attached to a failure the customer can’t control, like fabric opacity that disappears the moment someone moves.
In normal product language, a recall or pull from shelves is often a quiet admission that something went wrong; here, the response created a second problem by making it feel like Lululemon was correcting customers instead of correcting the pants.
A Familiar Pattern For Lululemon, And An Old Wound Reopens
Riesmeyer notes this “Get Low” dust-up is eerily reminiscent of the company’s 2013 episode, when black yoga pants were recalled for being see-through.
He also reminds viewers about the controversy around founder Chip Wilson, who suggested back then that some women’s bodies didn’t work for his pants, and Riesmeyer says Wilson stepped down shortly after that moment while still remaining a major shareholder.
Bloomberg’s version, through Meier and Katgara, carries the same history but frames it as a repeating cycle: Lululemon pulled pants, then leaned into “customer education,” telling shoppers to work with in-store “educators” to buy the right size, and that messaging still leaves a sour taste years later because it has the same undertone – if it’s not working, maybe you’re the problem.
Meier and Katgara also describe how the “Get Low” leggings were pulled from the company’s website soon after going on sale, with the episode strong enough that it reportedly helped send shares tumbling in the aftermath.
That’s a rough look for a company that effectively created a huge chunk of the athleisure market through quality basics, because a brand can survive trend mistakes; it struggles when customers start questioning the most fundamental promise – trust.
Bigger Than One Pair Of Pants: A Brand Under Pressure
Riesmeyer suggests Lululemon is chasing trends and struggling with competition, and he adds a blunt metric: shares down 65% since 2023, which sets a context of a company that’s not just dealing with a fashion problem, but a confidence problem.
Meier and Katgara expand that pressure into a broader storyline, arguing that Lululemon has drifted away from its core customer – people who wanted high-quality basics – and has instead tried to jump on trends and get products to market quickly.
They describe confusion around collaborations as wide-ranging as Disney and Erewhon, a personal care push that didn’t stick, and the infamous Mirror fitness equipment deal that ended as a flop after a big price tag.
Bloomberg quotes Simeon Siegel of Guggenheim Securities, who says the company has “chipped away” at what made it special and that core customers likely feel disenfranchised, because the brand doesn’t feel like the original Lululemon that won early adopters.
This is where the “Get Low” saga becomes symbolic, because it’s not only about one product being see-through; it’s about a company that built its reputation on quality losing the benefit of the doubt, right when trendier rivals are grabbing attention and influence.
Meier and Katgara describe rivals like Alo Yoga and Vuori winning over influencers and Gen Z, and they paint Lululemon as trying to follow that playbook – brighter colors, bigger logos, faster cycles – while also letting its stores feel dated to some observers.
That story doesn’t automatically prove “Get Low” happened because of speed, but it makes the failure feel less like a fluke and more like a symptom.
The Human Side: Customers, Employees, And The “Mindful Athlete” Pitch
One detail that makes the Bloomberg reporting feel less like stock chatter and more like real life is the way Meier and Katgara describe the internal culture shift.
They cite former employees who say meetings used to begin with a “clearing,” a ritual where people paused to breathe and offload what was on their mind, but that as the company sped up, those clearings became less frequent.
It sounds small, but it reflects a bigger move from slow, careful product identity to speed, output, and keeping up.
Meier and Katgara also include the experience of Amore Prince, a 27-year-old social worker who owns a lot of Lululemon jackets and shops often, who said she tried the “Get Low” leggings and immediately saw they were see-through when she turned around.
Prince said staff encouraged her to try a larger size and a different top, but she couldn’t shake her initial reaction, and her conclusion was simple: she loves the brand, but the item “just doesn’t work.”
That’s the danger zone for any premium label: when the customer who wants to like you still walks away because the product fails in a way that’s embarrassing.
Meier and Katgara also quote Jess Mabie, a content creator who can earn commission on Lululemon links, saying she started questioning whether the company’s mission and quality still hold up after commenters warned her about fit and transparency issues.
Then there’s the strange motivational language Meier and Katgara mention from that internal meeting, where Neuburger told staff to focus on performance and keep in mind Lululemon’s latest inspirational character, the “mindful athlete,” described as energetic, social, and expecting high quality products that deliver both performance and style.
That brand poetry might play well in marketing decks, but it becomes unintentionally funny when paired with the reality of customers being told to size up and put on special underwear so a $108 legging can pass the most basic test.
This Isn’t Just A PR Mistake, It’s A Trust Mistake
If Lululemon had simply said, “We missed the mark, we’re fixing it,” this story probably lasts a day or two and fades, because most customers understand products fail sometimes.
The frustration comes from the feeling that the company tried to turn a quality complaint into a customer behavior issue, and that’s a risky move when you sell a product tied to body image, confidence, and comfort.
There’s also a practical point here that gets lost in the snark: if a legging is see-through when someone squats, that’s either a fabric/design failure, a manufacturing consistency problem, or a product that was pushed out before it was fully ready, and “wear different underwear” doesn’t solve the underlying trust issue.
Even if sizing up helps some customers, the question customers will keep asking is: why should the burden fall on them to experiment, adjust, and double-layer when they already paid premium pricing for “no worries” performance?
Where This Heads Next, And Why The Company’s Response Matters
Riesmeyer closes with the obvious common-sense point that many viewers will land on: instead of telling customers to adapt, why not make the pants thicker, add lining, or fix what’s causing the transparency in the first place.
Bloomberg’s reporting suggests Lululemon is trying to paper over the issue with “education” and quick language tweaks, including altering how it describes underwear recommendations, but the larger picture – slower growth, competitive pressure, leadership transition, and activist investor attention – means a small scandal can punch above its weight.
Meier and Katgara note that leadership itself is in flux, describing CEO Calvin McDonald leaving his post and the company lacking a permanent successor, while activist investor Elliott Investment Management holds a major stake and Chip Wilson is pushing his own activist fight and board nominations.
That matters because product problems are easier to recover from when a company projects stability, humility, and a clear plan; they’re harder to recover from when the public sees a company scrambling, blaming customers, and trying to move on before the damage is cleaned up.
In the end, the “Get Low” story feels like an unforced error stacked on top of an avoidable error: first the leggings didn’t perform, then the explanation made customers feel insulted, and once that happens, every future product gets looked at with a harsher, more skeptical eye.
If Lululemon wants the backlash to stop growing, the fastest fix probably isn’t another round of sizing advice – it’s rebuilding the simplest promise in athleisure: when you move, your clothes should work, and you shouldn’t have to think about it.
Raised in a small Arizona town, Kevin grew up surrounded by rugged desert landscapes and a family of hunters. His background in competitive shooting and firearms training has made him an authority on self-defense and gun safety. A certified firearms instructor, Kevin teaches others how to properly handle and maintain their weapons, whether for hunting, home defense, or survival situations. His writing focuses on responsible gun ownership, marksmanship, and the role of firearms in personal preparedness.
