Low Class Here, People (Or, I Couldn’t Do Fancy If I Tried)

photo by a kartha

This week, I received two catalogs in the mail, both of which were way out of line for my taste.

How this happened, I’m not sure. Except that the paper-and-snail-mail-marketing had better catch up with online advertisements. Technology is growing fast. One minute, I’m looking at a wood cubby hole storage shelf on Amazon, and the next thing I know, an ad pops up for that very thing as soon as I surf somewhere else.

Clearly, The World Wide Web gets me. Scary? A little. But a bit comforting, too.

On the other hand, the cover of the catalog in my mailbox is graced with a silk-covered bed, complete with black and gold diamonds on the spread, matching curtains, and decorative pillows.

Above the bed, a bronze crown was securely attached to the wall. Long curtains flowed from the crown’s base, and draped over a fancy bedpost. The curtains – you guessed it- matched the rug and bedspread and the pillows – all nine of them. The walls were black and gold.

There was not a toy, a or stray item of clothing in sight.

No one lives in this room, of course. Except perhaps the Old Navy Mannequins. I bet even they leave their clothes on the floor.

Yo, Catalog Company. Save your paper and your postage. My bed is covered in sheets, mismatched pillows (the kind you sleep on), and a homemade quilt – my favorite thing.  There isn’t a bed skirt in the house, not that I would know how to use it.

If you want to sell to me, give me a simple photo. Post it all on the side of a website I regularly visit. Add a little color, a few loose coins, a child’s painting on the wall, and for goodness’ sake, toss around a little dust. Keep your shiny sheets, pristine decor, and impeccable geometrical patterns.

Except for that crown. That you can send.