Treehouse: Back in Malibu, Listening Better

Disclaimer: This episode/blog is not affiliated with, sponsored by, or endorsed by the City of Malibu, California, or Alo Yoga in any way. This content is for entertainment purposes only.

Out of the Loop,
Open to Learning

I’m 21, back home in Malibu on a break from school, and I’m realizing that coming home does not always mean everything feels simple.

There’s this weird thing that happens when you leave for college and come back. You expect the same streets, the same ocean, the same coffee spots, the same people moving around like they always did. And in a lot of ways, Malibu still feels like Malibu. The light is still insane in the late afternoon. The air still smells like salt and sunscreen. People still somehow look like they just finished a hike, a meeting, and a green juice all at the same time.

But I feel different. Or maybe I’m just more aware that I don’t know as much as I thought I did.

The other day, I stopped into Alo with my girlfriend. Nothing dramatic. We were just walking around, killing time, looking at clothes. I like clothes that feel good and fit right, and honestly, to me, Alo has always seemed like quality stuff. Clean design, nice fabrics, that whole wellness-meets-everyday-life thing. I get the appeal. I’ve always liked that kind of look, even if I don’t always know what to call it. Athleisure, wellness wear, lifestyle clothing — whatever the category is, it feels very California.

But while we were in there, my girlfriend started talking. Not in a casual “this is cute” kind of way. More like she had been holding in a whole semester’s worth of thoughts about culture, perception, identity, who gets to feel comfortable in certain spaces, and how brands become part of bigger conversations whether they mean to or not.

And I’ll be honest: I was out of the loop.

Not completely clueless, but definitely not caught up. I knew there were broader conversations happening around fashion, wellness, race, privilege, inclusion, social media, and who feels seen in certain spaces. But I don’t think I understood how connected all of that can feel to people. I also don’t think I understood how much tension can sit under something as normal as walking into a store.

To me, at first, it was just clothes.

A hoodie. A pair of sweats. A shirt that costs more than I expected but probably lasts longer than the cheap stuff I usually buy. A clean store. Nice lighting. People browsing. That was my surface-level read.

But she was talking about how spaces can carry meaning. How certain brands represent a lifestyle that some people feel invited into, while others might feel judged by, excluded from, or expected to perform inside. She was talking about wellness culture and how it can be beautiful, but also complicated. Because mental health, fitness, calmness, clean living, and self-improvement sound universal, but access to those things is not always equal.

That part stuck with me.

Because I do like the wellness side of it. I like the idea of feeling centered. I like the idea of waking up, moving your body, taking care of your mind, dressing in a way that makes you feel put together. I like the culture around yoga, mindfulness, recovery, and trying to be a healthier version of yourself.

But I’m starting to understand that even positive spaces can still have blind spots.

And I’m not saying that as some huge statement, like I suddenly have everything figured out. I don’t. That’s actually the whole point. I’m trying to not pretend I understand conversations that I’m still learning how to enter respectfully.

I think part of what made me uncomfortable was realizing how easy it is to be comfortable when the world has mostly made room for you. When you walk into a place and don’t think twice about whether you belong there, it can be hard to notice that someone else might be asking themselves that question the entire time.

And that is not about blaming every person in the store. It is not about reducing anyone to a category. It is not about assuming what someone feels based on how they look. I don’t want to do that. I’m trying to be careful here, because I know these conversations can get flattened really fast.

What I’m trying to say is that I’m learning there are layers.

There’s the product layer: Are the clothes good? Do they fit? Do they feel worth it?

There’s the lifestyle layer: What kind of life is being sold or celebrated? Calm, fit, wealthy, healthy, attractive, balanced?

Then there’s the cultural layer: Who is represented in that lifestyle? Who feels welcome? Who feels watched? Who feels like they have to explain themselves? Who gets to just exist?

And then there’s the mental health layer, which I think people don’t always talk about enough. Because belonging affects your mind. Feeling judged affects your body. Being misunderstood over and over again can wear a person down. Even small moments can stack up.

My girlfriend was trying to explain that the “drama,” as people sometimes call it, is not always just drama. Sometimes it is people reacting to patterns they have seen for a long time. Sometimes it is frustration. Sometimes it is disappointment. Sometimes it is people asking to be considered in spaces that already profit from ideas like peace, healing, community, and self-care.

That made me think.

Because if a brand or a culture is built around wellness, then the question becomes: wellness for who?

And I don’t mean that in an accusatory way. I mean it as a real question. If wellness is supposed to help people feel whole, grounded, confident, and connected, then the community around it matters. The energy matters. The way people talk to each other matters. The way people are seen matters.

I also think there’s a lot I don’t know because people in my own circles don’t always talk openly about this stuff. Or if they do, it stays vague. People mention “the conversation” or “the discourse” like everyone already knows the full backstory. And if you ask questions, it can feel like you’re either behind or about to say the wrong thing.

So sometimes I just stay quiet.

But I’m realizing silence is not the same as listening. Sometimes silence is just fear. Fear of being corrected. Fear of sounding ignorant. Fear of stepping into something bigger than you know how to handle.

I don’t want to be the guy who acts like he gets it when he doesn’t. I also don’t want to be the guy who checks out because the conversation feels complicated. I think there has to be a middle place where you can say, “I’m still learning, but I’m here, and I’m trying to understand without making it all about me.”

That is where I’m at.

Standing in Alo, listening to my girlfriend talk, looking at a rack of perfectly folded clothes, I had this moment where I realized how strange growing up can be. You start noticing that normal things are not always neutral. A store is not always just a store. A brand is not always just a brand. A lifestyle is not always just a lifestyle.

At the same time, I still like the clothes. I still like the clean, calm feeling of the space. I still understand why people connect with the brand and the world around it. I’m not here to perform outrage or pretend I don’t enjoy things that I actually enjoy.

I think the more honest thing is to say: I can appreciate something and still want to understand the criticism around it.

I can support wellness culture while also asking who gets included in it.

I can be drawn to a brand’s style while still listening when people say the culture around it feels complicated.

I can admit that I’m out of the loop without making that an excuse to stay there.

Maybe that is part of being 21. You’re old enough to know that your perspective is limited, but young enough that you’re still figuring out how to expand it without getting defensive. I’m learning that being sincere is not about having the perfect take. It is about being willing to slow down, listen, and not turn away when a conversation gets uncomfortable.

So yeah, I’m back in Malibu. I’m on a break from school. I stopped into Alo with my girlfriend. She went on a passionate tangent, and I probably stood there looking like I was trying to load a software update in my brain.

But I heard her.

And I’m still thinking about it.

I still love the idea of wellness. I still love clothes that make you feel good. I still love the culture of movement, softness, discipline, and taking care of your head. But I’m also starting to understand that wellness is not just about what you wear or how you stretch or whether your life looks calm from the outside.

It is also about whether people feel safe enough to be themselves.

That is the part I want to keep learning about.