1986
Grace Jones purrs her hymn to her Jamaican Guy from two massive wall-mounted speakers, pained vocals underwritten by a pounding bass drum. At the head of the exercise class, an instructor faces the group and leads them through jumps and bends and stretches, shouting her commands to be heard above the music: "...and reach, two, three, four..."
At her bidding, nineteen people arch their arms over their heads and bounce into a waist stretch. She lifts her left knee, they lift theirs; she moves right, they all shift in the same direction, swinging their arms just as she does, half a second behind her in synchronized unison, like one multi-limbed organism.
She is fit, this Lycra-clad instructor: strong, supple and lean. She can run six miles in under forty minutes, bend from her waist t
