Monday, November 26, 2007

life; by mail order catalogue

mail order catalogues are cheap armchair porn for 'this american life'. "victoria" and her bedroom-smile-while-you-pick-out-itchy-lace-wedgies invites the sensible, cotton-with-the-stretched-elastic-granny-knicker devotees to realize their dream of lounging on silken sheets.

with the flip of a page, the tour continues into terracotta tiled kitchens, where 'made from scratch' cranberry infused fettucine with a tarragon espresso remoulade, drizzled in a garlic-citrus ganache, are the staples of the "williams sonoma" stepford wench. a land where men wear cable knit sweaters and chinos, while perching on bar stools swigging scotch from crystal.

"pottery barn" shifts seamlessly into rooms adorned with luxurious velvet brocaded 4 poster china, emblazoned with the family crest. leather bound copies of russian novelists, with impressive titles using the last 3 consonants of the alphabet, are placed "absentmindedly" on "aged" shaker stools from quaint, sumatran villages.

the outdoorsy, downward dogging earthgirls of "patagonia" scale rocky cliffs, tanning triceps that can slice fruitcakes. unfortunately most aerial activity (even while attached to ropes and pulleys) tends to atrophy any tension in my own keigel muscles. conveniant, for the wicking (hemp) capris.

most titilating are the oodles of fluffy, "l.l. bean" puppies cavorting on monogrammed tartan beds beside roaring fireplaces. these copacetic couples wear matching monogrammed polar fleece footed pyjamas, sipping hot chocolates in personalized titanium mugs. l.l. bean people do not fight about toilet seats (their log cabins have "his" and "hers" bathrooms), driving directions (monogrammed GPS's are in their SUV's), they do not get flat tyres (ever), their moles do not darken or get irregular edges (because they don't have any), nor do they suffer with dandruff.

i aspire to the "skymall" life; growing tomatoes, indoors, upside down, incorporated into living room furniture in order to display the nutcracker musical faberge egg collection. self actualization is only a nose hair clipper/ear wax cleaner away.

1 comment:

mansuetude said...

I love the way you end this Disa! It comes out of nowhere, bam!

What was that catalogue they spoofed on Sinefeld--I used to keep one on m,y bookshelf ... that was written with some wild fantasy...

Great essay!