A few months ago I walked into an REI while I was back in Boulder. While wandering through the store, I made my way to the back wall, where the expansive shoe section takes up most of the space. The entire back floor area consists of trail and road running shoes, with stand-alone displays for sandals, birkenstocks, and other casual footwear. If you make a full 180-degree turn, you can see the significantly smaller, and clearly de-emphasized, backpacking and hiking section.
It’s a far cry from my youth. I was probably 9 or 10 when my parents signed up the entire family (including my two younger siblings), for REI memberships in order to take advantage of yearly member sales. For a long time, REI held a place in my mind that was very focused on hiking and backpacking. This was just where we went to get backpacking tents, stoves, and hiking boots. It’s where I bought my first pair of backpacking boots, Half Dome Plus tent, and Pocket Rocket stove that lasted me for most of a decade with dozens of trips to the mountains (back when I spent more time backpacking).
REI attracts a lot of criticism because so many people have these types of memories. One that I hear over and over again is: “It’s not the same; they don’t sell the same stuff anymore.” That’s true. Outside of flagship stores, it’s much harder to find more technical gear, or more specific, bigger ticket items.
But, I don’t think this is necessarily the fault of “corporate overlords” changing the face of REI. It’s the natural result of the outdoor industry that we all built together. One that we want. One that we advocated for.
We Asked for This
It’s been the mission of outdoor brands, nonprofits, and advocacy orgs for years: get more people outside. There’s a whole thesis to be written on what that phrase even means, and whether it’s sustainable, but for today, let’s just say: Mission accomplished. Unequivocally. Through a combination of marketing, media, new gear, storytelling, and social campaigns, more people are recreating outside than ever before.
In 2024, a record 181 million Americans participated in some form of outdoor activity. That’s nearly 59 percent of the population. Since 2019, 32 million new participants have entered the space. But as participation has increased, behavior has shifted. The average participant now takes five fewer outings per year compared to pre-pandemic numbers. Basically, more and more people are showing up, but they’re doing so in a more casual, less frequent way.
None of this happened behind a curtain. For decades nonprofits, brands, and storytellers preached the gospel of access: Get more people outside. Affordable and easy-to-use trail apps replaced complicated topographic maps. Entry-level gear dropped in price. And social media efforts by both brands and individuals, inspired millions who might never have considered themselves “outdoorsy” to get outside. These changes weren’t accidental, they were part of a coordinated effort in the industry to build a bigger tent. And it worked. What once felt like a subculture now feels more representative of American culture: sprawling, inclusive, and contradictory.
From Subculture to Just... Culture
So where is this tension and criticism about the state of the industry coming from?The broadening of the outdoor base mirrors what has happened in other industries. Perhaps you’ve heard of Soho House, the once-exclusive members club. It started with a super exclusive model, but in order to grow, those restrictions were relaxed. And inevitably, those original, core people that were the arbiters of the vibe that made it “cool” started to complain that the vibe just isn’t there any more. The company, on the other hand, is now dependent on the scale and spending habits of the new, more numerous clientele.
You can probably see the parallels. The “casualification” of retailers like REI and the outdoors in general isn’t an accident, nor is it a dastardly plan enacted via capitalism. This is what happens when a previously niche (or at least “well defined”) industry goes mainstream. Every new report that comes out of the Outdoor Industry Association tells me that I’m not sure what the “outdoor industry” is anymore, particularly when it comes to clothing and retail. The industry didn’t reach this new level of scale on the back of backpacking packs and mountaineering boots. It’s been running shoes, jackets that you can wear in the city and on the trail, and athleisure. But that shift didn’t come out of nowhere.
Ten years ago, I met the folks at Vuori in the Venture Out area of Outdoor Retailer. Like many others represented there that year, they were the first inklings of a building wave of change in the industry. The booths weren’t big, but their vision for where the market was headed was broad. I’m not sure many would consider Vuori (or Lululemon, or Fabletics, Alo Yoga, or the recently re-launched Outdoor Voices) a “core” outdoor brand. But, there are probably just as many (or waaay more) people recreating in these brands than in Patagonia, The North Face, and Arc’teryx.
The absorption of function and sportstyle into fashion has only accelerated this shift. Trail shoes are office-ready. Fleece vests are conference-room staples. “Gorpcore” is not a thing anymore. When outdoor culture seeps into so many facets of life, more pervasively than before, it’s just…culture. This level of scale is going to reflect more broadly in the ways that people shop and recreate.
Honestly, Stop Talking About Gorpcore
Gorpcore isn’t new, and treating it like a fresh cultural discovery is lazy (and boring). The conversation is over. The look isn’t novel anymore—and hasn't been for years. At this point, referring to a pair of Salomons or a GORE-TEX shell as gorpcore (no matter how “stylish”) is like calling jeans denimcore. We get it. Things change. Outdoorsy stuff got fashionable. You’re a few years behind.
Some of the worst offenders are on both sides of the topic: slow-reacting brand marketers who treat gorpcore like it’s still a new, rising trend to capitalize on, and the people who treat it like a diseased limb hanging onto the outdoor industry. In reality, it’s been absorbed, diluted, and normalized. The line between functional and fashionable gear is gone.
What we’re really talking about here isn’t a fashion trend, it’s more of a shift in what the “center” of the industry looks like. The outdoor industry isn’t orbiting around alpine pursuits and technical purity anymore. It’s not about gear for the few. It’s about gear for the many. The aesthetic happens to be one of the more overtly “noticeable” things to move. But, it’s been a slow but steady cultural migration over the last decade or so. The core has moved outward, and both upmarket and downmarket.
The word gorpcore feels more like a relic than a trend. It describes a moment of friction and novelty that no longer exists. There’s no longer a cultural twist when someone wears trail runners to the office. That tension has been dissolved. The idea’s been fully folded into the language of fashion, lifestyle, and retail. We’re not remixing anything anymore. We’re just wearing stuff that works.
A Mirror, Not a Megaphone
There’s a temptation to think that big retailers dictate taste. Maybe if REI just decided to lean into hardcore alpine gear again, the market would follow and we’d go back to “the good old days”. But that’s not how it works. Most retailers don’t hold real taste-making power; they curate and distribute what already has cultural velocity. The real tastemakers are upstream: designers, brand storytellers, athletes, creative directors, and smaller brands.
REI and others stock what people already want. And right now, people want comfort, versatility, and gear that fits into their everyday lives. The market isn’t being overrun by alpine purists. It’s being filled by weekend walkers, dog park dads, and trail runners who also wear their gear to brunch. That’s not a failure of the outdoor industry—it’s the result of its success.
Still some shifts still happen upstream. Take Satisfy Running. The brand is effectively allergic to conventional merchandising logic. It’s absurdly expensive. It’s weird. It's (extremely) polarizing. But its vision is cohesive. It built community not through lowest-common-denominator appeal, but through aesthetic coherence and a point of view. The same can be said of brands like Raide, District Vision, and wander, Janji, Gramicci, or Earth/Studies. These brands don’t wait for a trend to go mass before committing.
The irony is that once these directional brands gain enough traction, that’s the kind of stuff that might trickle downstream, not “more backpacking boots.” Probably not in full fidelity, but in softened, digestible versions: a mesh short here, a washed-out palette there. But by then, they’re not cutting edge anymore. They’re safe bets. Which is exactly a retailer’s comfort zone.
A New Center
So yes, REI looks different now. But so does outdoor culture. We wanted more people outside, and we got them. But now, we face a new truth: When everyone is welcome, not everyone shares the same definition of what the outdoors means. The idea of a single “core” or unified culture is harder than ever to pin down. And, if you’re looking for continued growth in the industry, you might be more likely to find it in lower-priced products with broad appeal, rather than upmarket, previously “core” items.
What was once a niche industry with a clear identity has become mainstream—more accessible, more visible, and less distinct. The old “core” didn’t disappear. It just stopped being the center.
In its place is something blurrier, and broader: an outdoor culture that stretches from trailhead to sidewalk, from summit to café, and from GORE-TEX to joggers.
