Good Morning.
I have some reservations about the infinity swimming pools that are cropping up at private residences and luxury resorts. I am not interested in slipping into eternity by disappearing over an edge that isn't really an edge. I do, however, love the water and wish I had some kind of a pool, far from anyone's view, in which I could paddle around. My physician tells me
swimming is better for the knees than walking. She recommends I use one of the pools at a fitness center, but she, of course,
does not have to climb into a dreadful one-piece suit adorned with a little ruffled skirt.
I have never had a pool but used to make friends, during my younger years, with people who did. Their pools were rectangular and painted a color that was supposed to look like the Caribbean. Their pools smelled of chlorine and turned
the hair green if it was, heaven forbid, dyed rather than natural. This was how a brunette who had decided to become a blonde was found out; the hair she had gotten colored at a salon in a neighboring state had the potential to become a lovely shade of chartreuse if exposed to the chemicals. This was the reason for bathing caps that graduated from basic white to fashion statements in vibrant colors with rubber flowers. At the time, going topless meant being brazen enough to enter the water with the hair unrestrained.
Today's pools are more interesting to me except for the aforementioned infinity ones with an unsettling view of the hereafter. We still have the rectangles and kidneys, but the twenty-first century pool connoisseur, with an appropriate
bank account, is more likely to want something that is custom designed in a free form with boulders and a waterfall.
Natural, or a reasonable facsimile thereof, is apparently in. I like the TV commercial with the two old gals who pick up
a dozen tubes of sun screen at the drug store and show up at a nude beach, throw off their caftans, and run into the ocean.
This makes more sense to me than wearing a pair of eye patches somewhat lower on the body and a fig leaf made of
Lycra.
Best regards,
Elisabeth
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