Updated by: July 3, 2026
The Wrong Shorts
It was 38 degrees and I was ready. Towel over the shoulder, thongs on, board shorts. The uniform of every Australian who has ever approached a body of water.
My mother-in-law had driven us to the local pool, a municipal affair outside a small French town that smelled of chlorine and civic pride. I was already planning my first lap.
Non, monsieur. Pas possible.
I looked down. The board shorts. Apparently in France, swimming pools require brief-style swimwear for hygiene reasons, the logic being that board shorts might have been worn outside and therefore carry the contaminants of the street. This is actual French law.
I tried to explain that these were swimming shorts. That I was Australian. That in Australia, board shorts are the entire point.
Pas possible.
So, I stood there in 38-degree heat, on the wrong side of the fence, watching my family swim. My mother-in-law acknowledged my situation with a shrug and pushed off into the pool, wrapping herself around a noodle like a happy octopus. She stayed a full hour. She had driven us there. She did not offer to leave early.
The French are not unkind. They are simply unbothered. Your problem is your problem, and they have their own afternoon to get on with.
Bring the right shorts.
Paul Mercuri
Wake Up Here Founder
