Cloth seats on BART must be among the worst design decisions ever made. Seating on public transit must be something that can be hosed down with bleach, and not a material that will forever hold whatever funk is deposited into it.
To the defenders: I ask you to please describe your memory of “the BART smell” from the cloth-seat era, if you have such firsthand experience.
I do remember. Many years make a strong impression. And while that specific smell-memory is largely indescribable, it’s nonetheless and unfortunately quite unforgettably awful.
My attempt: imagine a laundry hamper very full of very dirty clothes, including a few with fecal/other/mystery stains, slow-baked for weeks in a warm closet. Now open the closet door and take a deep nasal breath— that’s what stepping onto the train was like. I feel zero positive nostalgia.