Happy, happy , happy all the time, time, time

I’m most fortunate in that I have a lot of happy places, starting with my own home. Then outside my door, there’s the Boston Public Garden. Around the corner, there’s the Esplanade. What’s not to be happy about?

Branching out a bit, I’m happy when I’m with family and friends, just hanging out. (Bonus points if wine and/or ice cream is involved.) I’m also happy when I’m volunteering at St. Francis House, a local day shelter, that one might think is sort of depressing. But it’s not. Go figure.

Fenway Park is also one of my happy places. Even when the Red Sox lose – which they better not on Patriots’ Day, when I have tickets – I’m pretty much happy to be at there. (It’s also a very happy place to see Bruce Springsteen, James Taylor, or the Zac Brown Band in concert.)

Then there’s the fact that I rarely selfie and I’m not on Instagram. So I don’t need any ersatz happy places where I can take a selfie to post to my Insta account.

So I missed the latest phenomenon of pop-up Instagram installations, where Instagrammers can take selfies using a background that’s presumably prettier and wittier than what they can come up with on their own. A pretty sad thought, that…

One of these pop-ups, “Happy Place,” popped up in Boston last week – just a jog across the Public Garden from me – and it’ll be here until June, offering folks the opportunity to take photos of themselves – or have a friend do the honor – jumping for joy in front of a rainbow, about to land in a bowl full of – what? – scrambled eggs? Corn Pops?

Oh, and you’ll pay $30 ($35 during prime times) for the opportunity. Family packs available if Mr. and Mrs. Narcissus and the kids are in town.

Every good organization needs a mission statement, and here’s Happy Place’s, whch – of course – looks much happier on the smiley-face yellow backgroun

HAPPY PLACE was created because we BELIEVE that our world today can use a lot more happiness. To make this DREAM come true, we set out on a journey to create a special place where anyone who walks in is surrounded by all things HAPPY. The first HAPPY PLACE in Los Angeles has been nothing short of a DREAM for us and now we are excited to take the Happiness on Tour and visit cities all around the world. Watching so many visitors of all ages from all around the world come through our doors and leave with a smile, made us WONDER, why not spread the HAPPY?

Since opening and LA, this DREAM come true has been in Toronto and Chicago. As a Bostonian, I suppose I should feel honored. But it’s kind of depressing to think that we needed a Happy Place.

Couldn’t people be happy – and for a lot less? – taking a ride on the Swan Boats, which start up their season in a couple of weeks? Or for free taking pics of themselves with the bronze statues of the Make Way for Ducklings characters? Walk down Charles Street and get yourself an ice cream cone at J.P. Licks. What’s not to be happy about there?

And those are just for starters.

I imagine those from other cities feel the same. Who wouldn’t be happy standing in front of The Bean in Chicago?

But if you google Happy Place, you see that it’s the “most Instagrammable pop-up in America.”

I may be missing the point of selfies and Instagram, but I thought the purpose was to convey that you were somewhere interesting doing something interesting and you wanted the world – or at least your world – to know about it. I thought that people in Insta were trying to showcase their creativity. The very ultra unique-plus lives they live.

Does standing in front of a sign that says “happy” do that?

Sure, the Happy Place is a better location for selfies than some others. Apparently, there’s been a rash of selfie-taking at Auschwitz, with the young folks mugging in front of the Arbeit Macht Freiheit gate. LOL! Or showing off their balance-beam skills by walking along the tracks leading into the death camp. OMG! ROFL!

Admittedly, the Happy Place is better than that.

Still…

As Murray Whyte in the Boston Globe wrote after he’d experienced it:

So this is hell. That’s the thought that kept rumbling in the back of my mind as I made my way through the slapdash innards of a grotty, tacked-together funhouse tailored to the Instagram set. (Source: Boston Globe)

But Murray Whyte is an art critic. A snob. An old guy. In other words, me, if I were an art critic and a guy.

Anyway, the Happy Place is located in the old Marshall’s on Boylston Street, and never have I so longed for a closed store to be once again open than when I read about this hellscape.

And here’s what’s there to make you happy:

— giant high heels, oversize red lips, a dome of fluttering confetti, and a pool of yellow balls beneath an inflatable rainbow, ripe for dunking.

Well, at least now I know it’s a pool of inflatable yellow balls and not Corn Pops.

It’s all meant to max out your contentment meter, organizers say, and all those faces on Instagram surely look happy. So maybe it’s me. But I don’t think so. At one point, Madison Ciccone, a spin instructor in workout gear, played in a canary-yellow bathtub surrounded by rubber duckies while her personal photographer directed her through a series of postable moments: in profile, toe pointed; arms flung gleefully skyward; square to the camera, bright-white teeth flashed in a face-cracking grin.

Oy…

The entire thing sounds so tawdry, so unimaginably grim. I know I’m not the audience, but if that’s your idea of a happy place, then I feel sorry for you.

But I’m interested – in a small “i” sort of way – to learn of its existence. And I thank Murray Whyte – the poor man – for having experienced it for me.