Social Workout

Not in Kansas

Naughty Sati

Patricia Moreno (www.satilife.com)

(Dear Reader --Welcome to our newest correspondent, Jenny N., on extended loan from Sweden.)

Of course you know Patricia Moreno, New York's Goddess-like fitness diva? She's the force behind intenSati®, the cultish-yet-inspiring fitness class which has for years packed in the devotees at Equinox studios all over town. But have you ever imagined, well, seeing a little more of her? Don't answer that. Regardless, on Tuesday night at the 19th street outpost, Moreno came out in full makeup, a black-lace camisole, and a leopard skin bra. Her intent: to demonstrate the alignment between looking like you've got it, and really knowing that you've got it. intenSati, schmintenSati. We're talking Naughty Sati. (Trademark pending.)

Leopard skin? Yes, and count on Patricia to be so outrageously attractive and charismatic that, far from jeering, you find yourself wanting to be sexier and more loosened-up, just for her. She came on flanked by two hardbody instructors, one in fishnets, minimalist hot-pants, and heels with the promise of domination; and the other dressed up as a school teacher.

I, however, am a Lutheran. I not only don't talk about certain things, I refrain from them entirely. When O. asked me to explore Naughty Sati, I reluctantly agreed on the premise that every reporting mission can be carried out with dignity and professionalism. And that if I can do civil war, I can do this.

Still, fifteen minutes into the class Tuesday, I thought that a good strategy might be to die. Then I recalled a recent experience with a YouTube-clip of Rod Stewart dancing. I had laughed at Rod's hopelessly static, 1980's-like moves. Suddenly, it dawned on me that I dance exactly like that, and I always feel fantastically cool and rather sexy doing it. I needed a Moreno-intervention, I realized, and I focused with renewed effort on the woman's sly smile reflected at me in the mirror.

It took a while before I could make my hips move. Even longer before I could do I'm-The-One-In-Control somewhat convincingly, while lashing around my imaginary whip. In between was a blur of enthusiastic pelvic thrusts and dirty looks backed by an elaborate soundtrack consisting largely of Voulez-Vous Coucher Avec Moi. One sequence I especially appreciated was the the butt-out exercise, which involved asking "Do You Want It?" Followed by: "Then Come And GET IT!" The grand finale involved an imaginary catwalk and the ripping off of shirts, at which point I recall the mirrors got a little foggy.

This blog likes to opine about how exercise often doubles for the organized religion so many of us desperately lack; and that gyms are the churches we no longer go to. I'm not sure where that puts Naughty Sati, but if Patricia's hybrid of sweaty repetitive motions and Landmark Education can solve our career and self-development problems, AND help us out in areas extra-curricular, then it's a potent creed. Religion and suppressed desire have always been a winning combination. I'm just saying.

Not that it has anything to do with anything, but I feel that a word on the after effects may be in order. Post class, I skipped showering, called an old friend, and directed him to wait for me at a restaurant near my apartment. I then ran home, applied perfume and liquid eyeliner, and tore the tags off some scandalous Kermit-green underwear – still in the box with tissue paper – that I had pledged never to use as they were given to me by someone to whom I no longer speak. It occurred to me that this behavior had a certain pre-War French prostitute quality, and this made me feel really good.

Within fifteen minutes I was seated at dinner, flirting relentlessly with everyone around me, swimming in dark red wine, and, by dessert, licking the cinnamon sugar off mascarpone balls.

So do I want it? Please. Every Tuesday night.