Sparkling water is taking over the
world, and its first stop is in the hands of the mom nearest you. It seems you
can't host a playdate or visit a park without a mother asking for or sipping from
a LaCroix. When friends come over and I offer up the requisite, "Do you want a
drink?" and then hold up a sparkling water, their eyes widen as if they're
seeing the inside of Marsellus Wallace's briefcase in "Pulp
Fiction." "Oooh, yes, please!" they squeal. Then we debate the merits of
peach-pear versus mango.
What has become of us, ladies? We
used to get amped up for a hot new club to open; now we freak out when Target
has the cerise limon flavor in stock. (Those tall, slim cans are so fancy.) I'm half-surprised that
Pellegrino hasn't caught on as a popular girl's name.
Why do we feel such passion for fizzy
water?! Why does the coconut taste like sparkling sunblock (And not in a good way. Go ahead, challenge me on this)? Why has apricot
become a near-urban legend? Why is LaCroix everywhere—my manicurist cracking
one open for me and sliding a straw in before I get my hooves sanded down; in
the vending machine at our daughter's indoor soccer arena ? Why is my SodaStream panting from use?
Seriously, when did fizzy water
become a treat?
1. Pregnancy forces you to hit pause on the alcohol button, so you
switch to club soda when dining out at restaurants as a way to still feel
alive. Club soda, my friends, is the gateway drug to a full-blown LaCroix
I let LaCroix lead me to positive thoughts.
2. Sparkling water has no calories.
3. Saying "Pamplemousse" is
4. It's not diet soda, and diet soda is on everyone's shit list these days. Says my friend Erin, a LaCroix aficionado: "We've spent the past several years hearing that diet soda is the devil's elixir and water; while lovely, it's an easy thing to neglect to drink as much of." Sure, Diet Coke counts toward your daily 8 glass requirement, but in this age of clean eating, Diet Coke drinkers are regarded as lepers, while sparkling water enthusiasts are pure and Gwyneth Paltrow-like.
5. Also from Erin, who also enjoys using flavored sparklings as mixers with alcohol: "I can't be—and don't really enjoy—drinking like I used to. I have a kid, a job and a need to be a fully functioning adult. At 39, my body doesn't process alcohol in any form in a speedy fashion—even from just a glass of wine or two! If I want to have a drink, and I don't want be hungover, a water mixer just makes sense."
6. Hell, it might even be our savior:
In March, the "New York Times" printed
an official Letter
of Recommendation endorsing LaCroix. In it, the writer, newly sober,
divulges, "This Midwestern seltzer has come to fill the gaps that
booze and pot left behind. Now, when I meditate in the morning and set my
intentions—promising not to smoke cigarettes or slug pinot grigio at lunch … I
let LaCroix lead me to positive thoughts."
Whether you use it to stay hydrated
when parenthood leaves you sweaty and spent, as a self-congratulatory mocktail at
the end of a long day, or in place of tonic when the Tito's is pouring, rest
assured that as you crack open that icy cold orange or cran-raspberry, chances
are another mommy on your street or across town is doing the same. And yes, you
both deserve it.
P.S. According to the LaCroix web site,
it's pronounced "la-KROY," not "la-KWAH." You're welcome.