Fancy fancy fancy

It's Not Club Med But I Like It

It’s fun to swim at the YMCA, but showering might be taboo

When did everything get so fancy? Fancy water, fancy exercise clothes, fancy sneakers, fancy coffee. Fancy fancy fancy. Whatever happened to a 12-pack of tube socks, champion sweat suits, and a black cup of coffee that could clean your Ford engine?

When I grew up, health clubs were only for the uber Wealthy. They were mostly tennis clubs and golf clubs. Extras. Not basics. People who went to them wore white clothing, hats with no tops, and headbands made out of stretched terry cloth. They looked ridiculous. We made fun of them and their horses.

They were the kind of people who needed to stay in their own neighborhood to survive. Their white linen shorts wouldn’t last an afternoon in most towns outside their viridescent cul-de-sacs. They were targets for ridicule.

Now being fancy is the expectation for all of us. Fancy is the lowest rung. Take my YMCA membership. When I was little, we went to the YMCA to swim. Some people lived there. So did some cockroaches.

The men who lived there were called residents. The YMCA was a refuge for men who just left their wives or had been told to leave their wives. Not a fancy place.

The YMCA wasn’t a health club. You were probably healthier if you went there, but you didn’t expect more than a swimming pool, some barbells, and a room if you were suddenly single.

Now, I live in the burbs and the YMCA has some fancier aspects to it. Pilates rooms, personal trainers, higher-end equipment. The pool is the same. The residents are the same. Many of the barbells are from 1820.

But still, the YMCA isn’t fancy enough for some of my friends. They say the showers are dirty. There’s no product in the locker rooms. The towels are like sandpaper.

Do you actually shower there? my girlfriends have asked.

There have been years I only showered there, I answered.

Don’t you think that pool is gross? I’ve been asked.

No, I think it’s amazing, I said.

But it’s so dirty, they cringe.

That’s what chlorine is for.

When did everything get so goddamn fancy? When did it become acceptable to pay 7 bucks for a cup of coffee and $188 for a pair of sweat pants? When did people go to the gym and expect a facial?

The one thing we used to have on the rich was they looked like idiots to us in their white linen and stupid golf carts. Now, we’re trying to emulate them. We’re turning our Buicks into Mercedes.

I tell you this, fancy seekers. If you want a comb floating in jasmine in the woman’s locker room at the YMCA, I say move along, sir. This water ain’t for your kind of fish. It’s fun to swim here, but not if it’s fancy.

Thanks to Andrew Rodwin for his editing chopperonies.

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