I know I used to do this regularly, and in fact most people also do this, but working full time is taking some getting used to. Blogging has suffered, that's for sure--which is totally unacceptable and I will attempt to rectify this today with this blog, which will be about mail order catalogs.
As ass backwards as this sounds, when I moved I actually signed up to get additional catalogs. Maybe those are coming now; I don't even remember which ones I requested. But catalogs are coming that I know I didn't order, but how interesting they are turning out to be. I really can't get enough of The Vermont Country Store. Sounds like they would carry maple flavored goodies and cheddar cheese. Which they do, but so so much more. They bill themselves as "Purveyors of the Practical and Hard-To-Find." They respond to customer's requests for hard to find items, typically from back in the good old days that are so fabulous that goods today cannot compete. Something needs to justify the arm and the leg they charge for relatively straightforward items. There are pages and pages of sleepwear and muumuus and weird undergarments like "pettipants," a slip to wear under "skirts, culottes or walking shorts." This must appeal to 70 year olds, as no one I know would ever wear a slip under shorts.
There are also nostalgia fragrances like Joy and Elizabeth Arden's Blue Grass. Blue Grass debuted in 1934 and as a matter of fact I clearly remember a container of Blue Grass powder on the table in the third floor bathroom of my grandmother's house. Which if it debuted in '34 and I was seeing it in the 70s was already vintage. But heck. I still wear Halston, which has to be at least 30 years old and I still have a jar of Lauren body cream that I use very occasionally and sparingly. Why doesn't Ralph bring Lauren back, anyway? Perhaps I should suggest this to The Vermont Country Store in about 20 years.
Anyway, The Vermont Country Store seems to have found their niche with old geezers clamoring for the things they could buy 50+ years ago and have the disposable income (hopefully they aren't frittering the pension away on pettipants) to do so. But wait just a minute! On page 78 of their catalog they feature Brach's Jelly Nougat candies. I know these candies well--my dad was a fiend for them-- those chewy nougats with the blobs of hardish multicolored jelly in them. Kind of disgusting, but also sort of good. My Safeway carries these, and they are so not $7.95 a pound. I feel a momentary pang that geezers like my dad might see this and assume that no stores carry his beloved Jelly Nougats anymore and compel him to shell out $7.95 plus $3.95 shipping for these cavity excavating treasures. I will have to stay tuned and pore over subsequent catalogs to see if they are in fact helping the geezers, or provoking paranoia fueled consumption over the loss of familiar items.
Oh and hey, if you're stumped for what to buy Shiloh Nouvel, the newly minted spawn of Brangelina, may I suggest the Chesapeake Cabana from Pottery Barn Kids? It's a safe bet. After all, what child doesn't need a cabana? And the best part is, it's tall enough for most adults, so you may not even need to buy a separate cabana for the parents. Now that's a relief.
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2 comments:
but i must know! are the pettipants a skirt or a split leg deal?? in other words, would they help with the uncomfy chafing of upper thighs that a woman of a certain size endures while wearing a skirt in the heat of an israel day? if so, i must have them. :)
pettipants have a split leg, so perhaps they would be a great help in these circumstances. and btw, who does not experience the chafing? for real though, if your thighs don't rub against each other then you are nicole richie and headed for an eating disorders clinic.
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