The symbols of well-being
Loredana La Fortuna.
Never in a million years could anyone have imagined witnessing a haute couture fashion show set in a bathroom. Yet, this is precisely what occurred a few days ago in Paris, when Alessandro Michele, the new creative director of the Valentino house, presented his latest collection in a public toilet specifically set up for the occasion. Through the half-closed doors of entirely red bathrooms, a colour so beloved by the founder of the fashion house, and beneath the glow of seemingly faulty neon lights, the models entered and exited for their runway show. To attend the event, of course, one needed an invitation, which was meticulously written on a bathroom tile.
What the designer staged was clearly a dystopian space, serving as a show intended to reflect on the concepts of identity and intimacy. Interestingly, this took place in Paris, where public toilets have historically played a significant social role. Just over a year ago, the Lavatory Madeleine, opened in 1905, was reopened to the public. It was one of the first public toilets designed in Europe and quickly became one of the city’s most frequented tourist attractions. With its Art Nouveau décor, these toilets were much more than mere service areas; they were meeting points, “lieux d’aisances,” spaces where one could feel at ease and enjoy a moment of well-being. They were public places, rather than private, as the social dimension was an integral part of the bathroom experience.
It is undoubtedly fascinating that these places, so specific in their function, have suddenly become glamorous theatres – polysemic spaces that now invite us to reconsider their meaning, function, and social role in our daily experience.
Obviously, places of well-being today, whether personal or collective, whether private bathrooms or spas, are not typically either red or Art Nouveau. They certainly cannot, however, be defined solely as service areas, intended merely to meet the more pragmatic needs of the human body. These are, in fact, spaces with powerful symbolic value, revealing much more about the contemporary world than one might think. These spaces, more than others, offer insight into what we mean by well-being, describe the contemporary relationship between humans, the environment, and the social world, and, above all, define new values and luxuries.
To fully understand the meaning of spaces dedicated to well-being, we must take a step back and reconstruct the evolution of the concept itself, which has radically changed over the years. After the Second World War, this term referred to “standard of living,” meaning the ability of individuals to own and flaunt luxury objects, goods, and spaces, based on the material wealth possessed by the individual. It was only from the 1970s onwards that well-being began to be considered not in economic terms, but in terms of “quality of life.” For this reason, variables that had previously been considered secondary, if not entirely irrelevant, began to be taken into account: psychological and social well-being, and environmental and relational dynamics.
Thus, while in the years prior, well-being was literally measured by considering the specific values of globalised Western culture, such as GDP, per capita income, and life expectancy, from the early 1980s, new indicators began to emerge. In 1987, the Brundtland Report first discussed sustainable development, and at the same time, the concept of health – which is the essence of well-being – was expanded and deepened. Health, in fact, began to be evaluated not merely as the absence of disease, or simply as a bio-physiological condition, but as a more complex dimension involving various human components. It came to be understood as a harmonious condition between physical, psychological, and social aspects – a virtuous relationship between humans and the environment. Today, when we talk about well-being, we are referring to just this: a healthy way of living, a quality of life defined by positive relationships with oneself, as well as with the surrounding natural and social environment.
Perhaps for this reason, places of well-being – ranging from home bathrooms to the most sophisticated spas – have progressively evolved, becoming something entirely different from what they once were. The most noticeable change is undoubtedly the “openness” of these spaces to the outside, an openness never before seen. Places of care, beauty, and well-being have transformed into open spaces, primarily connected to the surrounding landscape, with which they establish a visual and evocative continuity. These are hybrid spaces, existing somewhere between the interior and the exterior, responding to the desire for a “return to nature,” the most evident consequence of modern life lived in highly urbanised and artificial environments. Today, these spaces of well-being are expected to achieve exactly this: to rebuild the lost relationship between humans and the environment. To this end, symbolic elements serve to communicate these meanings: large windows opening onto panoramic views, wallpaper featuring plant and floral motifs, the use of natural materials such as wood and stone, the presence of water, and, in general, a clear reliance on what can be defined as a “green” aesthetic.
However, the openness of places of well-being is not limited to the surrounding environment; these spaces also open up to other enclosed areas within the buildings they occupy, blending with other rooms designated for different purposes, thanks to large glass walls. This osmotic process redefines the pursuit of well-being, no longer as a private matter, but as a collective experience, to be sought continuously across various times and spaces.
The immediate consequence of these widespread spaces is the inevitable re-signification of certain elements. Bathtubs, for example, are no longer simply large tubs for washing the body; instead, they are elements intended for rest, reading, tasting small foods, and are therefore equipped with unexpected features such as floor lamps, internet connection devices, surfaces for resting items, bookshelves, and much more. Bathtubs, long criticised in favour of quicker, more modern showers, are more than any other element a symbol of this new concept of well-being and, in some ways, of new luxury. Indulging in a bath requires time, and time, as we know, is the true contemporary wealth. As such, the new bathtubs, strictly freestanding, are placed either inside or outside bathrooms, in bedrooms, on terraces, or in gardens, positioning themselves as luxury furnishings – small secret oases of pleasant care.
Once special places, bathrooms are no longer sterile, impersonal, and technological rooms; instead, they have become open spaces – warm, welcoming, pleasant, and, in some cases, exuberant. Definitely human. Perhaps this is why the majority of selfies are taken in such places, as if these spaces are perceived as a new habitat: contemporary and technological, yet natural and simple at the same time.
And so, all these new signs of well-being – the natural colours, wood, stone, greenery, candlelight, slowness, silence, bathtubs, and, above all, water – have, as always happens when signs are communicated, translated, and narrated, ended up defining new rituals and daily practices. Their aim is not simply “feeling good,” but “well-being.” The perspective, it is clear, is decidedly broader.
Therefore, whether it’s a red bathroom, a retro-style public bathroom, a domestic bathroom, or a spa, what truly matters is the opportunity these spaces provide to experiment with new ways of living. This is why, today, more than others, these places are multifaceted and polysemous, and more than just rooms, they are “activators of experiences.” They show us, even if often only through a large window, what we would like our living environment to be.
Loredana La Fortuna
Biography
Loredana La Fortuna has obtained a PhD in “Language Theory and Sign Sciences.” Her research primarily focuses on textual analysis and critical studies of fashion and design phenomena. Her books include La cucina di design (Progedit, 2016) and È una questione di design (Meltemi, 2023) – INDEX 2024. She also curates the column “Oggetti parlanti” in the monthly magazine Home!.