Fondue Pots, Sleeve Tattoos, and Fire Pits

In just a few short months, millions of people can individually decide, *“I’ve got to get me one of those.”* A mass psychosis grips the country, and otherwise reasonable people suddenly feel they must have what everyone else is having—no matter how silly.

Take fondue pots, for example. Or, to echo Henny Youngman: “Take my fondue pot… please.”

Let me explain. In the 1960s, people placed a pot of melted cheese in the center of the table. The pot sat on a heat source to keep the cheese liquefied. Diners were given long forks and speared bits of bread or vegetables to dip into the cheese. All this communal dipping inspired warm feelings—and clogged arteries. That’s probably one reason the fondue craze fell out of favor.

Some fads are easy to leave behind. If you wore bell-bottom jeans (also from the '60s), you could toss them in the closet and buy a pair of skinny jeans. If you had a flattop haircut, you could ask for a buzz cut. If you sported an eyebrow stud, just remove it.

Tattoos, however, are a different story. Let’s say you’re 18 and drunk. You get “Momma tried” inked on your left bicep and “Born to lose” on your right. At 48, those messages are still there. At 78, they’re blurry blobs.

At the gym, I see guys in their twenties with “sleeve” tattoos covering their arms, legs—or both. I can’t help but wonder what all that ink will look like when the skin beneath it begins to wrinkle and sag. Sure, tattoos can be removed, but that’s an expensive, lengthy, and painful process.

And now, fire pits are having a moment. I’m not sure when they became a “must-have,” but both of my neighbors installed them right after moving in. You can buy fire pits at big box stores or build your own with a DIY kit. They sit on decks or in backyards and run on propane or firewood.

Like tattoos, I don’t understand the appeal. In the heat of summer, who wants to sit beside a fire? In winter, you’d need coats or blankets. Burning trash in them pollutes the air. And they’re wildly inefficient for roasting marshmallows—half the time they just char.

The internet plays a big role in fad development, usually not in a good way. Every year, teens are killed subway surfing in New York City—riding on top of subway cars. Their friends snap pictures, post them to social media, and before long, other teens think it looks “neat/hip/rad/awesome/money/snap/peachy-keen/bee’s knees”—or whatever the current word is—and try it themselves. Sometimes, with fatal consequences.

Fads typically unfold in three phases. First, the early adopters—usually movie stars or media figures—set the trend. Then come the aspirational types, the ones who always wanted to sit with the cool kids at the cafeteria table. Finally, the late adopters jump in… just as the fad is fading.

Have you seen the current craze where women puff up their lips? Check out before-and-after photos of Kristi Noem, a.k.a. “Ice Barbie,” now head of the Department of Homeland Security. Once fairly attractive (physically, if not morally), she now looks like a fish. I hope that look doesn’t catch on—but some women are already adopting it.

By the way, if you still have those bell-bottoms hanging in the back of your closet, rumor has it they’re coming back. If you can still fit into them, you’ll be ahead of the trend.

~ Roy Christman