There is the amount that something costs to produce, and the amount tha it is actually sold for, which is based of its “value”. So a pair of generic heels at Payless Shoes may cost you about 45.00, where as, a pair of strappy shoes at Stuart Weitzman will cost you an easy 1,500.00. While both are fashionable, (to some degree) the value is greater based on the quality of materials, the sophistication of design, craftsmanship, and longenity, not to mention the fancy way they are packaged, don’t forget to factor in the ambiance of the store, the service you receive, advertising, and that magical-visceral thing called “brand”.
Consumerism 101: Freud in a Nutshell. The primary hypothesis for selling something (anything) is, “I see it, I don’t have it, therefore I feel inadequate, so I want it!” The same exact theory Sigmund forwarded almost a century ago about the male appendage. No, Mrs. Freud did not shop at Stuart Weitzman.
Due to the economy, consumers are more sensitive to what things cost, and what their actual value is. Americans are moving away from the crass commercialism, conspicuous consumption, and paying threw the nose for a “brand”, and its prestige, perceived or real. It’s sort of a no-brainer. Sure every once in a while we want that turquoise cashmere sweater, but maybe now we reason that a grey blend, that goes withh everything, and costs a third, is more practical. (By the way, this is the part on “Deal, Or No Deal” where I’d trade in the reliable grey suitcase worth 250,000.00 for the fancy turquoise suitcase, and wind up going home with five dollars!)
Thrift is making a comeback. Families are skipping the Cineplex, and ordering a few titles from Netflix and breaking out the Orville Redenbacher’s microwave popcorn instead. Stouffer’s and Swanson’s are showing increases in sales, as families are eating more meals at home, if you can call turkey tetrazzini a meal. I even read about a man in Chicago who gave up his cell phone to go back to a landline. The cost and value of these things are forcing us to rethink what’s really important.
Of course, what’s valuable to you may not be valuable to me. Case in point is what I call “The Cool Whip Factor”. Whenever my family gets together, and dessert times rolls around my mother nearly goes into spasms, as she tells the Cool Whip story. My mom come from a generation (The Great Depression and The War Years) that valued thrift, which is as foreign to me, and my generation as is Mars. My mother always serves Cool Whip, the delicious non-dairy dessert topping on every piece of Mrs. Smith’s frozen Cherry pie she bakes. You realize of course that the two main ingredients in Cool Whip are chemicals and air. (Hydrogenated oil, my foot! Think Gilda Radner and Dan Ackroyd arguing over “Shimmer”.) But I digress, one year, like about twenty years ago, I’m not sure how long ago, I just remember that Bangles had just come out with “Walk Like An Egyptian.” I'm in my mother’s kitchen when we see this spider, bearing no resemblance to the eponymous Charlotte. Now I’m not telling a fish story, and I won’t tell you itwas the size of a tarantula, or black widow, but on a scale of one to ten, it was right up there with “eeek a mouse!” So I’m instructed to get rid of it, but not kill it because that would be just cruel.
Luckily, my mother has the largest stockpile of empty Cool Whip containers in all of Central N.J. The containers are the next best thing to Tupperware. So I quickly grab a container and “zappo!” the spider ain’t goin’ nowhere. Safely under the up-turned container, I carefully remove it from the counter, and hastily take it outside. My mother has now hesitantly climbed down back off the couch, convinced that the spider was not a lone assailant; apparently, spiders always work in pairs. Here is the infamous exchange…
My Mother: “Did you get rid of it?”
Me: “Of course, he’s probably pro-creating as we speak.”
My Mother: “Well, where the container?”
Me: “The Cool Whip container?”
My Mother: “Yeah, where is it?”
Me: “I threw it out!”
My Mother: “Are you crazy. Why would you throw it out?”
Me:“Ma, you have 50 empty Cool Whip containers in your stash.”
My Mother: “Have you gone nuts or something? I didn’t raise you that way. Money doesn’t grow on trees!”
Me: Don’t tell me your saving used sandwich bags too?”
My Mother:” Don’t make fun of me, I’ve had that container since I got married” (my mother was married in 1954.)
Me: “You want me to go back outside, and fish it out of the garbage?”
My Mother: "It's not garbage. Who in there right mind would throw out a perfectly good Cool Whip container? I don’t know you!” (Look of disgust.)
CURTAIN
To this day, I cannot sit at a table without my family regaling on… “Do you remember that time that crazy, nutty, wasteful Ron, (that’s me, the Diamond Jim Brady of the Cool Whip set) threw out that Cool Whip container? Just because it had a dead spider in it! What are we going to do with him? Ya, know I thought when he moved to NY City he was going to change, but never in my wildest imagination did I ever think he’s throw out a perfectly decent Cool Whip container. He is so funny. Who wants another scoop?”
To bring this all home. I won’t tell you that “Sometimes life is like a box of chocolates”, but retail has become a sort of Cool Whip container. You’d be surprised what something that seems to have absolutely no value to one customer, may hold great value to the next customer.
PS: If my mother leaves me her Cool Whip container collection in her will, I’m committing suicide!
