How Lululemon Won Athleisure | Mirror, Mirror | 2

What happens when a brand’s founder becomes its biggest liability?

Imagine building a passionate lifestyle around a single product — black yoga pants — and then watching that dream wobble because of one blunt interview. That’s the kind of public shock that makes you lean forward. Shock, because the founder who once choreographed culture suddenly sounds out of touch. Relief, when leadership change clears space to rethink identity. And curiosity — what choices steer a company back from freefall?

From cult favorite to public crisis

Lululemon began as an almost romantic idea: elevate yoga wear into a cultural uniform for modern women. It worked. The brand grew into hundreds of stores and billions in revenue by turning comfort into status. Then came the infamous quality scandal about sheer pants — a product failure that eroded trust and opened a wider question: how do you talk to the people who buy your brand?

The misstep that mattered most wasn’t just a manufacturing error. It was a series of public comments that blamed customers rather than the product. Those comments landed like a punch. The apology that followed felt self-centered, focused on company embarrassment rather than customer harm. I remember feeling incredulous — an apology that doubles as a defensive shrug rarely calms a crowd.

Founders and the limits of culture

There’s a particular tension when founders stay too long. The traits that ignite a company — boldness, certainty, a single-minded vision — can calcify into entitlement. At a certain scale, shareholders and boards expect stewardship, not sermonizing. Lululemon’s board moved decisively: the founder could remain an owner but not the chairman. That decision illustrates a brutal truth about business growth: stewardship often outlives genius.

What stood out was how quickly past remarks were dredged up. Old quips and controversial opinions, once shrugged off, aggregated into a narrative that suggested the brand had outgrown its founder. Reputation can compound, and once momentum turns negative, every previous misstep becomes fresh evidence.

Rebuild, but don’t erase the past

New leadership arrived with pragmatic ambitions: expand internationally, widen product lines, and bring men into the fold. Those moves were sensible. Men’s apparel grew into a meaningful revenue stream, proving the brand could broaden its audience without annihilating its core identity. But expansion always risks dilution. The more a brand tries to be everything, the harder it becomes to be unmistakably itself.

Expansion can be tender — and often it’s timing that makes or breaks it. Lululemon’s menswear launch was a careful adjacency that succeeded. Other bets were less clear-cut.

The tech bet and the distraction trap

Buying Mirror — a $500 million wall-screen fitness device — felt ambitious and futuristic. Blending hardware with lifestyle content promised a closed loop: apparel, instruction, and at-home experience. Yet fidelity to the brand’s strengths mattered. Hardware requires different supply chains and customer economics. When pandemic lockdowns eased and Mirror sales underperformed, it became apparent that shiny acquisitions can distract more than they amplify.

There’s something human about this mistake: companies fall in love with the idea of being indispensable. But being all things — tech company, apparel giant, fitness studio — can leave you good at many things but exceptional at none.

Competition reimagines the playing field

As Lululemon grew, nimble challengers emerged with different playbooks. Brands that prioritized community, influencer culture, and direct-to-consumer agility began to chip away. Aloe Yoga and others turned social buzz into retail expansion. These rivals didn’t just replicate products; they sold a lifestyle with accessible price points and glossy cultural cues.

The real takeaway here is that legacy brands must earn fresh relevance every season. Loyalty matters, but so does cultural resonance. A store near an upstart can be a bellwether more than a battlefield.

Public relations, apologies, and corporate humility

I still think about the apology as a case study. When a company hurts its customers, the simplest structure often works best: acknowledge the harm, name the fix, and show the plan. Anything else reads like damage control theater. The Lululemon sequence showed how a mismanaged apology can escalate a crisis — a lesson for every leader who ever thought words were optional.

Boards and executives learned another lesson: values matter in practice, not just in press releases. Enforcing standards of conduct, responding transparently to allegations, and aligning marketing with actual customer experiences aren’t optional. They’re the scaffolding of long-term trust.

So what actually won?

Despite missteps, Lululemon remained resilient. The company hit new revenue milestones and dug into international expansion. Strategic pulls — more menswear, a humble pivot from Mirror to digital partnerships with Peloton, and a renewed retail footprint — allowed it to keep pace with the $400 billion athleisure market.

But resilience felt earned, not inevitable. It came from admitting errors, re-centering the brand on what customers valued, and choosing growth paths that complemented rather than contradicted the core.

Final reflection

What I walked away with is a paradox: growth demands experimentation, yet identity demands discipline. Brands that tip too far toward either end risk losing purchase on the other. The real art is holding both — expanding into new markets while keeping the original promise that made customers fall in love. That balance is fragile, human, and endlessly interesting.

• Key moment: a blunt comment became the spark that forced a company reevaluation.
• Strategic pivot: menswear and international expansion restored momentum.
• Warning sign: acquisitions that don’t fit core capabilities can drain focus.

What if brands measured every new move by how well it preserved their original promise? That question still haunts high-growth companies today.