Heck Of A Guy

The Heartland Spa Mystique

I had heard the rumors, of course.

I’ve known over a dozen women, one of whom was married to me, who have sojourned at and been enraptured by the Heartland Spa, located in Gilman, Illinois, 80 miles south of Chicago.

From one or another of these individuals, I’ve heard raves about the Heartland’s many attributes: the three-level fitness center, the delicious food, the 32 acre campus, the lake, and the barrage of classes, ranging from cardiokickboxing to country line dancing to tai chi and yoga. I’ve been told about the cross-country skiing, tennis, and fishing. Some have waxed eloquent about the massages, including reflexology and Japanese restorative, the facials, and the -– um, waxings. Others have elaborated on the salon services, the hand & foot treatments, and the adventure course with high and low ropes trails, a 200-foot zip line, and wire bridges hung through the trees.

I’ve even endured obsessively detailed recitations of putative Oprah sightings.

But Oprah is not the best known Heartland celebrity.

Nor is craniosacral therapy, body sculpting, or even the low calorie, low fat, berry-filled vanilla crepe the feature most consistently, frequently, and enthusiastically mentioned.

Nope — the #1 character at Heartland, the protagonist of its cast, its VIP, BMOC, and mascot/star player/coach rolled into one is (cue fanfare) The Clothes Fairy.¹

And, that’s not the weird part.

The Heartland Spa Clothes Fairy

Before we come to the weird part, I should first enlighten those readers not already in the know about the Clothes Fairy.

First, it’s essential to understand the Heartland’s unique appeal. It is well equipped, the staff are dandy, and the many services provided are said to be well-executed and enjoyable, but there are many spas with equipment, grounds, staff, and services of equal or better quality. Moreover, some of those other spas are situated on beaches, in the mountains, in tropical climates, and other locations arguably more stunning than downstate Illinois. And, while the Heartland is not as outrageously priced as some of its competitors, I have the canceled checks to prove it ain’t cheap.

So, why is Heartland so popular?

My contention is that the Heartland’s primary seduction is its comfy environs. The buildings and grounds are pleasant, unpretentious, and commodious. The atmosphere is peaceful. The transition from harried rat race participant to relaxed spa guest is signaled by the ritual of new arrivals exchanging their civilian duds for Spa-provided sweatshirts, sweatpants, t-shirts, and such. Guests spend the remainder of their stay, when not being buffed into perfection, padding about the lounge areas unencumbered by the physical, sociological, or spiritual discomforts of fashionable or work-related clothing. The sweats provide, both figuratively and literally, the much sought-after warm and fuzzy feeling.

In fact, the only two levels of comfort allowed at The Heartland are clothes-specified: guests are either in Sweatsuit Standard-Comfy mode signified, of course, by wearing the Heartland sweats or guests may opt for Robed Ulta-Comfy mode by donning the plush robe and blissful trance-like state associated with padding to and from special treatments, such as massages.²

So far, so good, right?

It’s the Clothes Fairy that puts the Heartland experience over the top.

The Clothes Fairy’s Job Description

If the Heartland-issued apparel is dirtied – and it matters not if the sweats are encased in grime from traversing the Adventure Course or if a sleeve is accidentally spotted from a bit of a delectable sauce at dinner – one merely drops those articles of clothing onto the heart-shaped braided mat outside ones door and in no time, the befouled sweats, or whatever are magically, invisibly replaced with clean replicas.

The Clothes Fairy has never been sighted, is aware of and responds to the presence of dirty clothes placed outside the door of any Heartland room immediately, and is utterly reliable.

This is, I maintain, the epitome of pampering.

The Weird Part

And here’s the weird part: the Clothes Fairy appears to be, officially, a nonperson (nonentity? nonspirit?). A search of the Heartlandspa.com site turns up no reference to The Clothes Fairy or any variation of the term. In fact, in all of Googledom, I find only one reference to a Heartland-associated Clothes Fairy, a single line in a review of the Heartland in Decatur Magazine.

So what’s up with this? A Midwestern spa has a unique, identifiable service that differentiates it from its competitors – but not only doesn’t promote that service but doesn’t even mention it?

At the least, this is un-American.

Let’s look at the possible explanations:

• Heartland is keeping quiet about the service to avoid the organization of a Clothes Fairy Union at the spa or raids from Immigration which would lead to the Clothes Fairy being deported back to Fairyland.
• The Clothes Fairy doesn’t exist but is actually a shared delusion resulting from mass psychosis brought on by the euphoria of the spa experience.
• Heartland is Fairyphobic.
• The Clothes Fairy is part of the Federal Witness Protection Program.
• The replacing dirty clothes with clean clothes thing is only a cover story; “Clothes Fairy” is simply code used by Heartland patrons in the presence of non-Heartlanders – especially spouses and lovers – when referring to the orgiastic bacchanals that go on nonstop there and are the real cause of the blessed-out look on the faces of those returning from visits to the spa.

Yep, that seems to cover all possible explanations.

The Expedition

Of course, no one with an adventuresome soul could resist taking on the challenge represented by the Clothes Fairy – and neither could I.

The crack Heck Of A Guy expeditionary team surreptitiously set up observation posts on the Heartland Spa grounds in hopes of photographing the Clothes Fairy.

Initial efforts were, however, unsuccessful, largely because our automated monitoring sensors were repeatedly set off by false positives, which turned out to be these disappointingly ordinary Midwestern critters.


In desperation, one of our agents infiltrated the Spa as a guest, allowing us to continuously film the clothes drop area. On review, however, the video showed only repeated sequences such as the one below³ in which a lump of dirty clothes were left outside the door to be replaced almost instantly by clean, folded sweats with only a blur between those start and end points.

The Mystery Continues

While we have not yet snapped a definitive photograph of the Clothes Fairy, we can offer this composite drawing by a police sketch artist, based on descriptions provided by a recent Heartland guest to facilitate further scientific inquiry.⁴

And, as long as the Clothes Fairy mystery continues so will the search for the Clothes Fairy. Toward that end, a dozen dedicated and intrepid explorers, including the irresistible Lawanda, Hippie With Tiara, and Princess Of Peds, will endure the rigors and challenges of the Heartland Spa this Spring to pursue the Legend that is the Clothes Fairy.

Stay tuned.

Update
The Heartland Spa Expedition Photodocumentary

1. It is, one supposes, possible that Oprah is the Clothes Fairy, which would render my earlier declaration that Oprah is not the best known Heartland celebrity inaccurate, but that seems a stretch.↩
2. Heartland veterans report that those in the Robed Ulta-Comfy mode are also the recipients of envy and wonder from those then limited to the Sweatsuit Standard-Comfy mode↩
3. The photos shown are studio stimulations used to avoid disclosing the location of our hidden Heartland cameras↩
4. OK, the description came from Heartland habitué, the irreplaceable Lawanda, to further facilitate her access to a bottle of Jameson, but she’s pretty sure that the Clothes Fairy has gotta look like this.↩