You might find this a shocking admission. Brace yourself. I have lived the majority of my life in Ireland, and a bit of it in England. And in all those years, something I’ve never felt the need to do was carry a bottle of water.
I know that, especially nowadays, I’m in the minority in this regard. It could be my lack of adventure in terms of what parts of Ireland I visit. Certainly, I’ve never traversed the vast tundra or desert regions of our country, where dehydration would be an ever-present threat. I can only presume that others are setting out on these treks, as every day, even on the Dart to Dublin city centre, I see people fully kitted up with backpacks and bottles the size of a small child.
Or maybe there’s something that I’m missing. Perhaps I am gifted with an astonishing ability to resist thirst; an ability others do not possess. I could be part-camel.
Drinking bottled water really became a thing in the 1990s, mainly due to a secret ingredient the “manufacturers” were adding to their product: marketing.
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The marketing convinced consumers that drinking water was not only hip, but necessary. It wasn’t drinking, it was hydration; which sounds way fancier; even vaguely medical. Astonishingly, the human race had managed to survive for thousands of years without knocking back eight glasses of water a day.
And that’s because – spoiler alert – humans don’t need to. The evidence from actual scientists, rather than Gwyneth Paltrow types, is that we need about 1½ litres of liquid a day: which can come from fruit and vegetables, coffee and tea. Even beer. If you’re thirsty, drink. Simples.
Some bottled water comes from springs or underground sources. Some of it doesn’t. It’s tap water, sold back to you
Nor is there any evidence that drinking water is good for your skin. Dehydration is bad for your skin, of course. But unless you’re planning to trek through the Gobi Desert, the chances of that happening to you in Leitrim or Kilkenny are vanishingly small.
Surely water removes toxins from the system? Nope. That’s why you have kidneys. The kidneys will be unable to do that only if you’re dehydrated. Which you’re not.
But the greatest triumph of BS from the water-industrial complex is selling the idea that tap water is somehow inferior: despite millions being spent every year to ensure that tap water is drinkable. Another spoiler: some bottled water comes from springs or underground sources. Some of it doesn’t. It’s tap water, sold back to you.
Not that anything here will make a jot of difference. Facts wither and die in the face of fashion: the fashion now being not just the water, but what you drink the water from. Enter the Stanley Quencher H2.0 FlowState™ Tumbler: which, because it can hold over a litre of water, “helps you reach your hydration goals with fewer refills”. Cool.
The Stanley will cost you €50, but there are plenty of knock-off versions that you can get for as little as a tenner. Basically, they are enormous vacuum cups that keep the water cold: and millions of people around the world are going mad for them.
People of all ages: to our shame, Daughter Number Four, in a series of deft wangling moves too detailed to outline here, managed to come home with one of the knock-off versions. It’s enormous: too big to fit in a cupboard or her schoolbag.
Nowadays, a lot of companies go in for a bit of greenwashing, and it’s often easy to spot. But the hydration business is built entirely upon that: it solves a problem that doesn’t exist, adds to the production of plastic and metal while wrapping itself in environmentally-cosy language. It’s not a benign fashion trend. It does real damage.
Because it’s too big to put anywhere, Daughter Number Four’s giant mug sits on a window sill, like a tribute to human folly. Right beside the tap, that supplies our water.