Feigning a Faint
Q Do people still get “the vapors”? We think we might know a few of the afflicted.
A You know more than a few. The vay-pahs, as my grandmother Minnie mercilessly mocked them, embrace the very finest medical contradiction—they’re wholly imaginary, yet pandemic. Millions have had, do have, and will contract the vapors; ergo, they’re real in a fun, de facto way. Here’s what happened: From the Middle, . Which is to say, the vapors became a root diagnosis of whatever circulatory, respiratory, or glandular malady wasn’t truly comprehended. The (mostly male) nineteenth-century medical establishment tried to assign the vapors exclusively to women, arguably because the brutal corsetry of the day caused a few fainting spells. As ever, women were tougher than any male opprobrium and didn’t let the charge stick. By the time my grandmother cut her social teeth, the vapors had been shorn of medical pretense, leaving only the notion of a universal “excuse” in the diagnostic wreckage. This function was weaponized with special delight by Southerners, who relish a sharp social cutting blade. We now use the malady for what it was always best at, to satirize whatever form of foot-dragging evasion is at hand. As in: . Or: . The takeaway? We’re all human down here on earth. The vapors are ubiquitous, and eternally real, because of that.
