Club Med Insider

Redefining “Clothing Optional”

As Club Med virgins, Devra and I each packed our bags and zoomed out the door in our respective cities eager to trade in the DC dankness and the Colorado snow for some bright sun and warm sand. Included in our suitcase was everything we thought we would possibly need; bathing suits, cover-ups and 3 oz bottles of sunscreen. DONE!

Upon arrival at the village in Cancun we got wind of a Dress Code. Wait! Before you dash out to buy a ball gown or rent a tux, the code isn’t hard core. Definitely much more along the lines of suggested attire for a “theme night” but being our first time, we weren’t sure what to expect. While we hoped everyone would be gentle with us. Would we be amongst a sea of Red Carpet worthy ensembles?

When we went up to our rooms and unpacked, Devra checked the list and nodded as she silently compared what she had brought along, with what would fit in with the suggested attire for each evening. She silently ticked off everything she had hanging up and folded away in her closet and drawers, and announced, “I think I’ve got this covered!” I on the other hand, took a moment of deep reflection and meditated on two words, “Oh shit.” I panicked. Truth be told, I am not a savvy dresser; much to my own mother’s chagrin. Lord knows she tried her best, but I despise shopping. Part of me was longing for the Club Med my parents and their friends visited, the generation where beads ruled over Bermuda shorts. A time long ago when I might have been able to actually get away with running around naked…WITHOUT scaring other guests. My family, however, isn’t about to take off their clothes and slather on extra sunscreen. With this in mind, I had brought in the reinforcements

Prior to departing for Cancun, my daughter had created sets of outfits for me to wear while away. Sort of like Garanimals: The Motherhood Edition. I still worried that I would be dragged kicking and screaming into a store while on vacation because, despite my daughter’s amazing skills, it was highly possible I didn’t have the right stuff. Devra, on the other hand, is the daughter my mother wished she had, a natural shopper who seems to be the Mary Poppins of travel and can, at a moment’s notice produce practically perfect ensembles from her perfectly packed bag of clothes that mix and match without having to be labeled “black blouse goes with striped skirt.” She is utterly just grab and go. Despite my fear, it turned out I did not have to hide in a closet dressed only in shame. In fact, we actually got a good laugh over my being so well prepared for being fashion forward, particularly since I am fairly well accomplished at being behind the times. I made a mental note of this success for future Club Med adventures. Relying on my brain alone, while admittedly risky, seems to have made my next trip to Ixtapa somewhat noteworthy.

Two days before my family left for Ixtapa it hit me, “theme nights!” While still at home, I did some surfing on the Club Med Insider Forum to get the theme night schedule for the week we would be at the resort. I disseminated the information to my family. My younger daughter, who could easily be Devra’s progeny, got to packing and was ready before you could say “My mother’s a fashion victim.” The older daughter cared as much about packing her suitcase as she does about putting her clothes away – not at all. My son seemed to follow the bouncing ball as I went over his packing list; however, his main focus is the building of sand castles, not becoming Ixtapa’s next supermodel .

Once at the resort, we looked forward to heading down to breakfast each morning where we would pick up a copy of the daily activities (along with a loaf or 2 of white chocolate bread). Printed across the top is the theme of the evening attire. My younger daughter (future clothing line designer) noted the color scheme which allowed her to narrow down her choices in her extensive wardrobe. Her older sister checked out the theme, sometimes participating, other times not. Their 8 year old brother didn’t even consider the “seen and be seen,” he just wanted hit the beach as much as possible and drink copious amounts of carbonated beverages.

On the days or evenings when we went out “in uniform,” the GO’s would notice our efforts and acknowledge them. The times we opted out, we experienced no public humiliation of having anyone put a megaphone to their lips to announce for all to hear, “PFLOCK FAMILY, GO BACK TO YOUR ROOMS AND PUT ON PINK SHIRTS AND BLACK PANTS. NOW!” Absolutely no pressure to conform; just a fun option to find a different way to participate in the Village Culture. And really, isn’t that the best part of a vacation? Having options to choose from along with the option to opt out or in?