Pop Quiz

Pop Quiz:  What do these things have in common:  tights, pantyhose and paper towels?  

They can all come in white?  True, but no.  They all can be shredded pretty easily?  Again, possibly true, but no.  They’re things we (or maybe it’s just me?) are particular about?  Getting closer!

Here’s a clue:  What’s the first thing you do once you’ve opened these things up?  Throw away the packaging, right?  At least, that’s the first thing I do after I open stuff up, despite all the warnings about “original packaging required for full refund” (electronics and clothing excluded—those items come under the rules of one of my Systems: If something is expensive and you’re not sure it’s going to keep living in your house as long as you intended, KEEP EVERYTHING REMOTELY CONNECTED TO ITS PURCHASE).  But paper towels and tights?  Where the heck am I going to keep all that annoying, clingy, floaty plastic once I’ve ripped it up to get at the paper towels?  Or the little piece of flimsy cardboard those tights came in?  Because who ever expects to return paper towels, and who ever has the courage to return pantyhose?  Or even tights.  Not me, at least.  So out it goes.

Which is a mistake.  Not because I want to return them.  Just the opposite:  because I want to buy them again. 

Because the answer to the pop quiz, what these things have in common, is that once opened up and the packaging has gone bye-bye, there is absolutely no identifying mark, anywhere on the darn things, to let you know what you just dried your hands on or just wore to such nice effect with your very happening knee-high Michael Kors boots and short skirt.  No identifying mark, I tell you, not a one.  

I’ve discovered this the hard way many times. 

Tuscan Pears

Paper towels are one item I buy without care for cost.  I buy paper towels because they have the cutest pattern.  (Is there even such a thing as a really expensive paper towel?  So how bad could the hit be?)  No white, a pattern please, and around holiday time, there is always a holiday-themed towel gracing our kitchen.  But the rest of year, too, I strive to find the most charming pattern.  Which involves a little bit of time standing in the paper goods aisle, sorting through all the options, be it the store brand, the brand with that Lumberjack (who is that guy, again?) or Rosie’s quicker-picker upper, looking for the cheeriest print or the one that best reflects who I am—at least on that particular day.  Am I feeling Vegetables today?  Happy Days and Shared Moments?  Maybe Tuscan Pears?  Or no, maybe at this time in my life Toasters and Starbursts will really express the inner me.  (In actuality, our current towels are sporting red and green candies and candy canes, signaling the official start of the Christmas season in our house.)  Anyway, I work hard to get it right.  And the payoff is that when I spill something, or Jimmy (our really really really cute little blonde dog—did I mention he’s cute?) has thrown up all over the kitchen floor, or Steve has (yet again) paid no attention to the fact that there are thousands of coffee grounds all over the floor under the coffee maker, I am immediately made happy just to tear off those paper towels and see one of those charming prints crumpled in my hand.  Despite the less than idyllic situation (does he not SEE the grounds???).

the culprits

So like I said, I work hard to get it right.  And after finding just the right towel to wipe up the dog vomit or the ever-present coffee grounds, I want to be able to perpetuate that lovely moment.  I want those towels again, so I can re-live that moment.  Well, or maybe re-live the moment before those things happened and I was just enjoying the towel in its holder, pre-catastrophe.  So when I get to the end of that paper towel roll, darn it, I want to be reminded of what this fabulous product is that I’ve so grown to love.  So I can buy it again.

And then there are the tights.  I love to wear tights all winter, and this, just like the paper towel selection, takes some research.  They need to be opaque enough to not see through (even in the knees, thank you), thick enough to stretch but not lose their shape (even in the knees, thank you again), and long enough so the crotch is not heading south as I walk.  (I do recall one unpleasant incident a year or so ago, when the waistband of my tights had somehow lost its hug, if you will, and the crotch started falling lower and lower, so that I had to make an emergency stop in Target to buy a new pair, and prayed all the way to the checkout stand that my waistband wouldn’t be hugging my knees before I got to the restroom to put on the new pair.  It was a very close call, that’s all I’ll say about that.)  It’s so important to find just the right pair.

And on that note, let me take a moment to stray off-topic just a bit and offer a little tip here:  If you’re a gal –and I suppose this would apply to men, too, but I’m not quite sure of the ramifications of their sizing—who gains weight from the waist up, you’re in like Flynn:  go with the sizing right there on the package.  You’re 120 lbs  and 5’6”?  (You lucky girl.)  Get the small!  Ignore that “shaded area”:  be bold and get the smaller size!  (And by the way, if you’re 5’6” and 120 pounds, I can only assume there isn’t anything you need to worry about, other than making sure your paper towels are adorable.)  But if you happen to be a gal who gains weight sort of all over, or maybe even from the waist down? (And ladies, if, perhaps, you’re anticipating weight gain--due to upcoming holidays, boredom or perhaps a looming break-up--this applies to you, too.)  Then all bets are off.  A great system I put in place here is:  ALWAYS GET AT LEAST ONE SIZE BIGGER THAN THEY RECOMMEND.  Pay no attention to helpful tips on the packaging such as: “Sized for real women” or “Now more accurate sizing!”  “Now with more stre-e-e-etch!”  Disregard all such “claims.”  THEY ARE NOT TRUE.  Always go up a size; I don’t care if you’re skimming the lower end of the chart, just do it.  You’ll thank me, I promise.  Word of warning here, though:  please don’t take this advice too much to heart and go up too many sizes or you, too, could find yourself in the parking lot of Target sending up one last prayer, before getting out of the car and starting that long walk to the store and into the hosiery section, that your tights will hold their own until you make it to the restroom to replace them.

So I think you can see how important it is to get the right product.  These things don’t just work out by chance or miracle.  There’s a lot of research and effort and, yes, frankly, emotion, put into creating a successful experience.  And as the saying goes, why reinvent the wheel?  Why start all over again the next time you venture out to buy paper towels or tights?  We’re not cavemen, after all; these things have been done by better and smarter people than I, right?

Turns out, possibly not.  Because once you’ve wiped up the last spill or worn those tights till there’s a hole in the toe, lotsa luck.  Because, unless you’re one of those super-organized aliens who anticipates things like this and comes up with a system for it (that’s what I’d call a Ph.D. level system--too much for me, I’ve tried), there is no way to know what it was that you purchased those weeks or months or even years ago.  Because, despite our current fashion system, where every designer in the world from Target to Chanel splashes their logo from the rooftops—or at least from the chest or handle or derriere—there are no identifying marks on these things.  Is it masochism on the part of the manufacturer?  A vengeful brand marketing company?   Is it too hard to print on a cardboard roll?  Are their machines not capable of printing lettering tiny enough to go on the back of a waistband?  Are they just too cheap to make the effort???  My guess is that a committee is somehow involved, and you know what happens whenever something is decided by committee.  Just look at our current Congress for the less than successful results of that little system.

Sadly, I don’t have the answer; I only have the plea.  Bounty, Brawny, Safeway Select, HomeSense, hear me now!  DKNY, HUE, L’eggs, Berkshire, Hanes, listen up!  I want to buy more of your stuff.  Yes, I want to give you more of my money!  I’m dying to!  Why won’t you let me?  How are you missing this opportunity?  Please get your board of directors together, get this on a committee agenda, get your little worker bees to write it out by hand, for heaven’s sake, but do something--print your damn logo somewhere on your product.  Pretty please?

And by the way, guess what?  Remember my falling tights?  There was no tag on those, either.  So I can’t even rest easy, certain that was a once in a lifetime experience.  Oh, the pain.