Richard Simmons Died with 400 Pairs of Dolfin shorts

And he wants the Smithsonian to have them. Your move, museum nerds.

During the height of his fame in the ‘80s, Richard Simmons was a pop culture juggernaut. He seemed to be literally everywhere: playing himself on General Hospital, getting mercilessly teased by David Letterman on Late Night, and showing how much fun a workout could be in his bestselling fitness tape Sweatin’ to the Oldies. But as famous as he was, he never seemed poised to become the next Jack LaLanne. He was good campy fun, sure, but very much a product of his time, destined to disappear along with parachute pants and Aqua Net hairspray.

His death last week, just one day after his 76th birthday, proved just how wrong that prediction was. The outpouring of love for Simmons wasn’t the usual celebrity eulogizing. “He taught me to value myself,” one fan wrote on Facebook. Another mentioned that Simmons “genuinely cared about people. I loved him.” He’s the first celebrity I can remember who people celebrated less for what he did and more for how he made them feel about themselves.

When I interviewed Simmons for Men’s Health a decade ago, it was exactly what you’d expect from the clown prince of American fitness. He joked, he preached, he burst into show tunes apropos of nothing, and he wore his big, blubbery heart on his sleeve. As tempting as it could be to make fun of Simmons (and he made it really easy sometimes), you’d have to be dead inside not to root for the guy.

Eric Spitznagel: Do you still work out every day?

Richard Simmons: Every day at 4 a.m. I say my prayers, count my blessings, and I work out right away. I just get it done. And I don’t make any whining, pity party excuses. I’m 135 pounds, and I need to stay at this weight if I’m going to continue wearing these tiny Dolfin shorts.

ES: You could always start wearing pants.

RS: I might have to. They don’t make Dolfin shorts anymore.

ES: At all? Are you sure?

RS: It’s true! I’m not lying. They’re from 1979, and they don’t make them anymore because the material is flammable.

ES: You must have a secret stockpile.

Dolfin shorts magazine ad from the 1980s.

RS: I’ve got 400 pairs. People write to me all the time and say, “Dear Richard, I was cleaning out my garage and you’re just never going to guess what I found. I’ve got two pair of Dolfin shorts!” And they send them to me.

ES: What? No. People send you their Dolfin shorts?

RS: I’m not lying!

ES: I’m not saying you’re lying. I’m just wondering if it’s wise to wear booty shorts mailed to you by fans.

RS: They usually wrap them in a baggie with a little note. [With a southern accent.] “I washed these before I sent ’em.”

ES: Yeah, but even so.

RS: I wear a lot more than just the Dolfin shorts. My closet is filled with all sorts of costumes. I have an entire section just for crazy tank tops. Leslie Wilshire has made my tank tops for years. And then I’ve got my tutu and ballerina section. I’m going to donate all my clothing to the Smithsonian after I die, because I want my own wing. I don’t want just, like, a Fonzie jacket. I want the Richard Simmons wing.