Mike Ashley’s Sports Direct and Peter Cowgill’s JD Sports are the heavyweights of high street retail. Their brutal battle to sell sportswear has made them super-rich. But now a new threat looms. Can they survive, asks Oliver Shah

A pandemic-driven obsession or a category set to define fashion's future? We peel ourselves off our couch-desks and investigate.

Angela Gahng started her direct-to-consumer contemporary womenswear brand, Almina Concept, out of necessity. While working as a brand merchandiser in New York City, she encountered a conspicuous gap in the broader apparel market. So with a giant leap forward into the choppy entrepreneurial waters, she did as so many resourceful creatives do: Fill it herself.

When Vice President-elect Kamala Harris called to congratulate Joseph R. Biden Jr. on winning the election last Saturday, she was wearing what women everywhere in the United States seem to be wearing during the pandemic: leggings.

In 2001, a young, upstart brand called Juicy Couture introduced its tracksuit, and the world was never the same. Dramatic? Yes. But entirely hyperbolic? Not exactly. In the years just after Juicy’s 1995 launch, the U.S. was enjoying a prolonged period of unprecedented economic growth. It was the era of excess, and Juicy’s plush zip-ups and matching sweatpants became the bedazzled picture of a new kind of luxury.

In 2001, a young, upstart brand called Juicy Couture introduced its tracksuit, and the world was never the same.

The coronavirus outbreak’s huge impact on business, education and sports continues to be felt, but what about the effect the pandemic is having on the way we dress?

On June 1, L'Oréal Paris posted on Instagram a black square with white text that read, "Speaking out is worth it." The brand, like countless others, expressed solidarity with the Black community amid widespread protests calling for police reform in the wake of the killing of George Floyd.