Nothing Says India Like an Infinity Pool /// Herbs Are For Meditators /// Meditators Are For Sale

Here’s the ad in question:

Now, I don’t love using the term “Eurotrash,” but it’s hard for me to think of anything else when I see an “infinity pool.”

Basically, it’s a pool that sits on the edge of a cliff, or some other eerie my-kids-are-about-to-fall-to-their-death precipice, that gives the appearance that it never ends. It also gives the appearance of orgies, anorexic models, and dudes who might benefit from a little humbling from the back of my 3-finger-ringed bling-hand, but those are just details.

Even still, I’m no fool. I’d love to swim in one of these garish beauties on the daily, but I can’t help but feel like there’s something particularly arrogant about its design. There’s something so very “I am human and I am in control of the Universe” about the infinity pool. It’s hard to put my finger on it it…. It’s like, “I refuse to let the limits of my property-line define the boundaries of my fauxhemian lifestyle. F-U Earth!”

In any case, Organic India, a company dealing in the organic herb department, thought the infinity pool was the perfect setting to showcase all things healthy; how the “light in me sees the light in you;” how “we are all connected.”

Which is interesting, ’cause infinity pools can cost anywhere from $35,000 to $200,000 (give or take a few bushels of corn) to have put in. Seeing as the average world income per person is roughly $7,000 a year, you can see how very connected we should all be feeling right about now.

Of course, Organic India is no dummy. They know the average white-linen-clad meditator is no fool. That’s why there’s a little rustic-looking brown woman on the cover of the Organic India box.

Look at her. Just sitting there all small and miserable and stuff. Probably getting ready to loose that cumbersome sari and go for a much-deserved dip in the ol’ vanishing edge Olympic-sized pantie killer.

But, really…. What the hell’s going on here? Is yoga/spiritual advertising having an ayahuasca-induced nervous breakdown or something? It seems like the messages are all sorts of confused lately. Rich white woman sitting by an infinity pool set against a vague idea of Indian organic farming, mixed with an old farmer lady who, I’m guessing, is supposed to be the person who picked my Holy Basil leaves?

And what’s with this sentence?

Even that “Namaste” seems way the F- out of place. “Herbs are good for you. I bow to your infinite being.” What the hell is that supposed to mean!?

I’m not sure what’s going on, but it seems like peeps need to chill! These spiritual mash-up ads give me more mixed messages than a nineteen-year-old shuffler on E. Let’s get it together, people.

Nama$tE, sUcKaz.


  1. Nothing says architect Richard Neutra like an infinity pool … he is the auteur of post-modern architecture …. yeah, they probably get their ideas from traveling through places like India and Japan, is that your point?

  2. amphibi1yogini

    What a waste of a good pool. My amphibi-ness wants to dive in also…

  3. Dyspeptic Skeptic

    “We are all connected”, if only metaphorically. Stay the fuck out of my pool, all you hoi polloi.

  4. Yogically speaking

    I actually thought it was a “colonic,” which have a long history in the practice of Tantric Yoga among the constipated elite. (See Pierre Bernard, the infamous “Swami of the Hudson,” at the turn of the century).

    Personally, I’d like to “let it flow” back there, and if the Infinity Pool is anything like the Ganges, it well might. Imagine “Turds from Heaven” as they fall off that cliff, signifying the Great Swan Dive of my soul toward commercial oblivion..

    Maybe Eric Clapton could write the lyrics.

  5. Wow, I must tell you: yes you, “Yogically Speaking”: your comment above just yanked me out of my blasé mindset and wanked my brain chain and now I am Tuned in and Turned on. Eric Clapton lyrics?? Yes, yes, and triple yes. I’m all over your post. Coincidentally, three lady friends and I just casually and spontaneously, while nursing our toddlers, and inspired by a bit of existential discussion on morbidity, began singing “Tears in HEaven” last night. Constipated elite (!)….keep it flown’ in the commentaries, YS. Adios. x

  6. It’s precisely that woman on the box who needs stress relief and energy, but I somehow doubt she’ll be able to afford the fancy tea she spends her day picking.
    On the contrary, the woman sitting at the infinity pool looks damn chilled out already. Probably because she’s had a lot of that tea.

  7. This is too good! I was just in Chittai, India two weeks ago and met Amrita and her husband Santosh, who were two of the original owners of Organic India. I think you’ve hit upon the exact reason they sold their shares and started a small company called SOS (sharing organic standards) that really walks the talk of being local and sustainable. No corporate bullshit!


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