Seems my post on our little shopping trip to Jackson today to the Coach outlet was misconstrued as 1) criticism of Coach accessories or 2) of Annie. Neither was intended. Rather, what I found interesting was the obsessive quality to the trip — the long line to get into the store, with people waiting a half hour in the cold, and the women with four and five bags on their arms.
My criticism is of the way we have allowed ourselves to be sucked into the brand-name game. We pay extra for the name and then wear the name, literally, on our sleeves and breast, becoming walking billboards.
Consider the way pop stars and actors sponsor their own clothing and perfume lines — not because clothing design or pefume fulfills some creative need, but because it extends their personal brand, allows them to diversify as if they were some massive corporation. Which, of course, is what they have become.
As I said in my original post, there is a marked increase in quality when you buy something like a Coach purse and get rid of the knock-off or discout brand, as my wife did, or when I spend $100 on a pair of Brooks running shoes instead of paying half for a pair of inferior sneaks at Target.
Quality, however, is not what drives a teenager to refuse anything but Coach or Ed Hardy or Timberland. In that case, it is all about the name.
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- Read poetry at The Subterranean.
- Suburban Pastoral, a chapbook by Hank Kalet, available here.
Hank Kalet 