Q: I have a really hard time seeing the ball when it’s sunny. Sunglasses seem like the right move, though I don’t really see the pros wearing them?? Are my only options for sports sunnies, like, Oakleys?
Dear Amazing Grace,
You didn’t sign off, and your question came from an email address void of identifying features. Don’t apologize! I’m just going to name you as your future self—because by the time we’re done here you’ll be saying, “I once was blind but now I see.”
I’ll start by directly answering your question, before giving an alternative solution replete with many meanderings and personal anecdotes. I sure hope that’s okay with you!
One reason we don’t see the pros sunnied-up is interference. Peripheral vision can be tainted by thick arms, and eyes meeting plastic during the ball toss isn’t ideal. Then there’s the salty water disclosed by your pores! Sweat famously dislodges frames from their natural resting place. If you choose polarized lenses, some internet denizens say you can forget about depth perception.
That’s why most players aren’t into sunnies. But of course, Grace, you mightn’t BE like most players.
Martina Navratilova, Natasha Zvereva and my personal favorite eyewearer, Serb Janko Tipsarevic, all wore glasses—regular four-eyes glasses and prescription sunglasses—tirelessly throughout their careers:
As it happens, I love eyewear for all occasions. When worn well, it can paint a plain face poetic, distract from a tired one, and lend the kind of confidence contacts could never. Here are three pairs for your consideration:
The transition lenses
Tifosi Alpe 2.0 Prescription Glasses, from $190
Best parts
- Thin arms that don’t blow your peripheral vision
- Slim brow bar for no serving self-sabotage
- Do anything/ go anywhere (except in water) wearing these!!!
My discovery of the brand Tifosi can be credited to their robust google advertising strategy—not their fantastic branding because truthfully, it is not fantastic. Had they not served me this exact style in response to my search query “sport sunglasses” I’d never know the cosmic satisfaction of transition lenses. On the first page of Google, a place where truth-seekers go, I learned the elderly, light-sensitive, or people who lose things easily are a good match for transitions. I qualify for all but the first, though I acquire new white hairs all the time. My zoomer neighbor called me cheugy for wearing them, so you can add that to the list.
Grace, I know you didn’t mention being blind as a bat, so here’s hoping I guess! I had mine furnished with polarized lenses (dangerous!) which don’t seem to foil my depth perception at all (safe, after all). My only complaint? They could be darker, to better accommodate hangovers.
The regular sunglasses
District Vision Junya Racer Ruby, D+ Onyx Mirror, $295
Best parts
- Extremely, outrageously lightweight
- Even thinner, more lithe arms than the Tifosi’s
- Very dark lenses for hiding and hanging over
District Vision makes glasses for running. The thought of running makes me inhale sharply and clutch my pitiful knees and back. The older I get, the less rally tolerance I have and the quicker I want to finish points. And my groundstrokes have gotten better as a result, if you must know.
So, the glasses. They’re not prescription, so I wear them when I want to be in contacts for the day, or want less contact with strangers (they are not necessarily inviting.) On court, they’re a good choice because the arms and brow bar are thin. Kate Moss was of course wrong—many things taste better than skinny feels. But skinny arms are almost certainly the most critical feature for on-court sunglasses. These have those.
I’ll say my smaller-than-average head means these lack obedience. When it’s hot and my skin is slick, they may, without warning, bunny-hop on my nose or worse, use it as a slippery dip. (On cooler days, this doesn't happen.) To maximize cost-per-wear, I started sharing them with my husband who has the bigger head in my household.
The regular (vintage) sunglasses
Prada, around $180 from Lara Koleji
Best parts
- The perfect face-hugging size means these (realllly) do not move
- I am once again eulogizing thin arms and a thin brow bar
- Slightly mirrored lenses to obscure my eyeballs from view
Grace, let it be known these are nothing like Oakleys. I didn’t even buy them with sport in mind! That’s the good part if you’re sidestepping Oakleys for their overt… Oakleyness. The less good part is that a vintage recommendation can feel like a thinly veiled troll from a sly little gatekeeper. However! Here they are in brown.
My benevolence isn’t the point. The point is, you can peel ginger with a teaspoon. Use hand soap as body soap. Hell, I’m just going to be brave and say it: you can even play tennis in ANY sunglasses that actually, truly fit your face instead of wraparound speed-dealers that loudly signal tennis. You are free.
Before you start opening tabs and bemoaning tariffs, just shut your laptop altogether. This is not an inside job, but an outside-in-the-world one. You know I’m right.
Anyway, hats!
Sometimes, we’ve been doing the same thing for so long we’re convinced it’s the only way, or the right way, or tragically, both. People around me have been playing in caps since time immemorial. And while I liked them fine for non-tennis contexts, I thought a brim would sully my toss. These were the anxieties of a woman demoralized, and any fool could see my quivering arm was driving my errant toss. (More shit tosses led to more shit tosses and then, some light PTSD every time I approached the baseline to serve. It’s much better now, though.) Anyway, on it went; along with my curious knack for framing forehands, the less autonomous of my wings. Call Pierre. He’ll tell you I broke five consecutive strings at the top of my racquet head over the course of 18 months.
People have been suggesting hats to me for years. In passing, and not as pious disciples; or half-heartedly, because the advice is almost too obvious to offer. One hot summer morning, after a dreadful night’s sleep, I listened. That day, wearing this hat, I myself became a Grace. And the last string I broke was dead center.
So, if you’re anything like me, Grace, consider hats too.
