It’s not all gold medals

I want to be able to look back and say, ‘I’ve done everything I can, and I was successful.’ I don’t want to look back and say I should have done this or that. — Michael Phelps, former American swimmer and most successful and decorated Olympian of all time, holds a total of 28 medals

OF all the delights of social media, the #olympicvillage is my favourite stream to swim. Instagram and TikTok have turned what was once a secret holding pen for athletes into essential content, sharing the Olympic experience for all to see.

Mostly, it explodes the myth that top athletes are grunting automatons with zero personality: there are some brilliantly funny people in the village, a great many of whom are on the Australian team.

Second, it brings the place to life in vivid detail, from the gigantic food halls to the meetcutes — “Look, it’s Carlos Alcaraz hanging out with Andy Murray!” — to the hilariously cheap cardboard beds on which they have to sleep.

Not that sleep is on the agenda for many athletes: as more competitions are completed, the vibe in the village switches from one of militant preparation and focus into a testosterone-fuelled party zone.

By all accounts the village recalls a summer camp, if the camp were knee-deep in free prophylactics and the campers’ bionic superhumans who eat five chicken breasts for breakfast every day.

This week, I have mostly been enjoying videos of the athletes arriving, touring their flag-swagged accommodations and shopping for strange bits of Olympic merch.

The richest content, however, has been watching each athlete unveil their kit bags: suitcases of team apparel, competition clothes and outfits, including opening and closing ceremony swag.

Every country has a different system, but in each case, the basic contents are the same.

One sponsor will have done the competition kit, the stuff they wear around the village and for training, while another does the ceremonial robes.

Additional smaller sponsors might have thrown in extra bits, such as the Oakley sunglasses that have been provided for Team USA.

Watching the athletes “unboxing” the suitcases makes for intoxicating viewing, especially when some countries have got it so much better on the aesthetic front.

Some simply win by having better colours: the Jamaican kit is a smoking uniform in green and yellow with Lycra cutouts that screams: “I’m not here to play”.

Haiti has also nailed it with its ceremonial skirts and neckties, bedecked in prints by Haitian painter Philippe Dodard in collaboration with Italian designer Stella Jean.

And I am very taken by Germany’s retro-looking uniform by Adidas, natürlich, although my interest has been chiefly spurred by its main model, the blonde Teutonic goddess and 400-metre runner Alica Schmidt — known as “the world’s sexiest athlete”.

Others are less fortunate.

Team Sweden has been given a sad navy uniform that makes them look like shop workers in their sponsored brands store Uniqlo.

And I pity Team France who, having already been castigated for bringing chaos to the streets of Paris, are now being forced to wear one of the daggiest kits in the Games.

Meanwhile, who knew that Mongolia would be so badass in the fashion stakes?

Their opening ceremony look, designed by the Mongolian couture house Michel & Amazonka, pays tribute to their traditional costume and gets a gold medal every time.

Competitors are expected to wear team outfits on all occasions, and a certain amount of unofficial trading takes place.

Most exchange pin badges, although the Dutch team have got a hustle going this year with a set of mini clogs.

Teams USA gets the controversially sexy Nike kit.

Remember the skimpy pant rebellion staged by its female athletes when the costumes were first revealed?

It’s an injustice that must be more than mended by the fact they get a ton of pristine, retro-looking Polo by Ralph Lauren in their bags.

When asked if Team USA has the best kit, Peter Zeytoonjian, senior vice president of consumer products for the United States Olympic and Paralympic Committee, said: “I sure hope it is.”

The team has been kitted out with around 100 pieces of clothing and Zeytoonjian said the hottest items so far have been the Ralph Lauren USA jacket, and a Nike hoodie with a smiley face that looks whimsical and cute.

Put me down also for the Skims (a clothing brand founded by Kim Kardashian) loungewear and Team USA swimsuits.

Kudos also to Angela Reilly, the creative director for Team Canada product at Lululemon and senior economist at Goldman Sachs, who has delivered one of this year’s most striking lines.

“For Paris 2024, we worked with 19 Team Canada athletes across 14 different sports,” she told me over WhatsApp.

“We then prioritised four key areas: adaptability, thermal comfort, fit & function, and national pride.”

The resulting looks include a jacquard-printed bomber jacket, crimson poncho and a pixelated wicking yarn.

Team Great Britain (GB) is bringing a blend of retro fusion meets performance to the arena: their sports clothes are Adidas while Ben Sherman has taken care of the opening and closing ceremony kit.

According to a friend, the bucket hat is one of the most popular items, and there has been much excitement about the lime green shoes — the Olympics is Brat summer after all.

On a more profound level, she added, the kit is an emotional bonding tool: “A large number of these athletes will have never competed at a multi-sport event.”

Dressing as a team, whether you’re in a bucket hat or an obi, is a rare chance for these singleminded specimens of perfection to feel a real connection with their peers.

If the clothes are more elaborate and striking, go the thinking, they become an even tighter crew.

The result is a dazzling catwalk display of athleisure, as showcased by the most aspirational role models in the world.

The only problem is, when you look this goddamn perfect, you hardly need the clothes at all.

The views expressed here are those of the columnist and do not necessarily represent the views of Sarawak Tribune.