On Bathtubs

Fight the Shower

This month the Soaring Twenties Social Club Symposium theme is Spring Cleaning. The contributors are encouraged to take old drafts that have been gathering cobwebs in their notebooks/folders/brains and publish them. Please enjoy this text I found in the attic.

I would hazard a guess, dear reader, that you share a sentiment with me. A feeling that the time we live has become rather boring in our day-to-day (if you’re healthily ignoring the politics). Somehow lifeless. Missing a vigour or joy of life that feels like it should be present.

Maybe you look at past eras and see the times when, say, a being a scientist felt as if you were unraveling the mysteries of the universe, not spending most times doing paperwork. Or a time when cars were designed to be fun and exciting. Or a time when traveling a continent meant meeting with fundamentally different food, clothes, music, worldviews, instead of different consumer choices.

I cannot say I understand this phenomenon. I can't even be sure if it is true, or just a projection of my own lack of life in life. But I can, for sure, see one symptom of this time I don't see addressed anywhere. And that is the bathtub.

Tell me, when was the last time you saw a bathtub that was inviting? Hell, when was the last time you took a proper bath? If you are like me, and everyone I know, your method of regular personal hygiene is showering. The quick, utilitarian, in-and-out method of cleaning the body, so you can get on with the day. Showers fit neatly into our modern no-nonsense, hustle and achievement zeitgeist. The point is to get clean, yes? Well do it in 5 minutes and move on to more useful things!

If you talk to most adults about taking a bath, you will find them proclaiming that it's not fun, not useful, not interesting, maybe even a bit weird or uncomfortable. They will proclaim showers superior on every front. They might talk proudly of their „walk in“ shower that they had installed last time they redid their bathroom. So, you know, it’s quicker to get in and out.

But you know what? It's called a bathroom, not a showerroom.

Here’s the thing: baths are amazing. But you might too share this idea that they are somehow strange, almost a relic from some bygone time of ignorance and inefficiency.

And you'd be right, in a way. Taking a bath today is a bit weird. But not because of the bathtubs themselves, but because of what we've done with them. In every bathroom I've been to in the last 20 years, the bathtub is positioned in the worst place in the entire home. The bathroom itself is usually designated to some out-of-the-way spot (so as no to take away from the „important“ rooms) and then in the bathroom the bathtub (if present at all) ends up in some dark corner, often getting no natural light, or any consideration of comfort and smart placement.

So no wonder we're off-put by baths. Who would want to take one in a some dark, dreadful hole, in a bathtub that was an afterthought when the home was being built and furnished?

But if for a moment we escaped the psychological environment of the times, so against leisure, quiet, contemplation, and relaxation, we would find ourselves, when designing a home, wanting our bathtub to be something different. Maybe a bit bigger then regular, to give more comfort. Maybe placed in a bright spot, with a window nearby for natural light, and, if the neighborhood situation allows, even a nice view. Maybe then we would find ourselves looking forward to a morning bath in rays of the rising sun, or nice dip in the evening, free of phones or distractions. Maybe some nice music in the background, or a book in hand, as the hot water pulls the wariness out of our bones.

It takes a certain mindset to enjoy a bath and it’s a mindset that priorities the slow life, the tastefully hedonistic, the aesthetically contemplative. But it is certainly not the rushed mindset of frantic success or of making „every minute count“ or being productive even while you sleep.

No, let the day's work be done, draw a hot one, and for 30 minutes let your body relax and mind wonder. Maybe, like Archimedes, you'll come up with your own discovery.