Cult yogawear chain complete with creepy manifesto (“children are the orgasm of life”) and rabid “ambassadors,” willing to drop $100 on pair of roll-top yoga pants. Racerback tanks in eye-popping hues, butt-hugging cropped leggings the day uniform of the unemployed mom with two nannies. Moisture-wicking Lulu socks and “Technithongs.” Stores aim to be more inspirational community center than retail outlet; host free Sunday yoga, often followed by gratis light breakfast. Eat at your own risk.

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