When you fly into Palm Springs, the geometry of pool-centric living is clearly laid out below, in the repeating grid of aquamarine rectangles, ovals and odd little squiggles. What is it about the swimming pool that grabs us by the hand and pulls us in? Nowhere is it more entwined with the history and culture of a place than the bright, sun-baked desert oasis of Palm Springs.

I’d always wanted to pool-hop through this place, touring midcentury modernism through its fabled and fabulous hotel and private swimming pools.

By 1955, Palm Springs already had 900 swimming pools within its city limits, and Esther Williams was the pool cover girl of the era, swimming it up at El Mirador Hotel, with its Olympic-sized pool with five diving boards and an underwater observation window. (She once guessed that she’d swum, oh, about 1,250 miles for all of her films.)