Over Fourth of July weekend, while visiting my family in Wisconsin, my boyfriend, Jonny, and I drove east from Fond du Lac (French for bottom of the lake) to Kohler (American for top-of-the-line toilette). To a certain set, “Kohler” also conjures spa treatments, WASPy weddings, and world-class clubbing—sadly, of the golfing variety—all just two and a half hours north of Chicago. Our day trip was part couples getaway (as in get away from my parents) and part site visit to a company town-cum-destination resort that, in a state known for its old-fashioneds, seemed to offer something more cosmopolitan.
I had been to Kohler as a tween, but in my memory we barely got past the Shops at Woodlake, an upscale strip mall overlooking a man-made body of water. Today, the plumbingware giant’s factory—still churning out crappers—cohabits with the ever-expanding luxury landscape of “Destination Kohler,” a bid to refashion lavatories into lifestyle. Even my algorithm was in on the act: A travel influencer reel touted the newly renovated Woodlake Market as an “Erewhonesque grocery s…
