You're not getting older, you're getting cozier.

If  you want to know how old you are, just look in your mailbox.  You can run, but you can't hide -- those crafty marketers know your age and virtually everything else about you.  Or at least they think they do.

Lately, my mailbox has been crammed with glossy catalogs clearly aimed at mid-life females. The brochures have reassuring names like "Time for Me" and "Soft Surroundings" (tagline: "my time. my place. my self.")  I suppose the "time for me" concept makes sense if you're an Empty-Nester, relishing your free time now that the kids are finally out of the house.  Or maybe you're a hard-driving career woman who is re-prioritizing her life after decades in the rat race.  It's high time you put yourself first, right?  Absolutely.  No arguments there.

The other title makes less sense to me.  Why does one require "soft surroundings" at this stage in life?  Are we that fragile?  That in need of extra pampering?  Apparently so.  One look at the merchandise in these catalogs tells the story;  mohair throws and cashmere shawls figure prominently in the pages of  "Soft Surroundings".  As do lavender-scented booties and Cuddledown robes. 
The Founder of "Soft Surroundings" introduces this month's catalog with a personal note:  "My home is all about comfort.  I'm there a lot, playing with my dogs - all that unconditional love!".  The underlying message seems to be that you've reached a stage in life when you're unfit - or unwilling - to leave the house.  Since you're going to be spending a lot of time at home (presumably alone, or with your Golden Doodle), you might as well be comfortable.  I like comfort as much as the next person, but perhaps they should re-name the catalogs to be a little more direct.  Then again, who is going to order anything from "Rejected By Society", "Alone and Irrelevant", "Crazy Cat Lady", "Time for Spider Veins" or
"One Step Away from Assisted Living"?

In addition to shawls, "snuggly" sweaters and hooded caftans ("summon your inner goddess!"), these catalogs also feature a dizzying array of other items specially tailored to the needs of mid-life women.  There are products aimed at easing all manner of foot pain (finally, someone understands me - and my bunions!).  A wide variety of girdle-type (um, body shaper) garments.  "Invisible panel" swimsuits ("look 10 pounds lighter- instantly!"). Numerous miracle weight loss pills.  As well as a wide variety of knit "comfort pants" (I, for one, would never underestimate the appeal of an elasticized waistband).  And of course, there is an endless assortment of exotic facial creams, serums, masks and flesh-toned, adhesive patches that promise "a face lift without the surgery" (I've tried them all...I'm still saving up for the surgery).

The first time I perused these catalogs, it was a little depressing.  But now, I think they actually serve a purpose.  Thanks to them, I now have a clearer understanding of things.  It's reassuring to know that if, after I've tried every possible wrinkle treatment and body shaper, I still don't see results, all is not lost.  I can just curl up in my snuggly hooded caftan, slip my aching feet into some quilted satin booties, grab a copy  of AARP Magazine and call it a night. 
How very comforting.

Comments

[Robert Hatfield]

I just think they figure at this stage of your life, you have the money to buy all that unnecessary crap. At least you're not male. Our box is full of ED solutions and penis enlargement crap. It's enough to give anyone a complex, and I wonder what the mailman must think. I'm tempted to go get the mail in the nude and erase any doubts.AARP started sending me crap when I was 49 (still 35 in my mind's eye). And since I see no way of living long enough to actually retire on Social Security, I throw their monthly membership app in the trash. Would that 50 was the retirement age! I'm friggin fed up with working! I'll be a bonafide basket case in 15 more years. Or 22. Or whatever age it is that Social Security moves it to (probably 85 by the time I get 65). Anyway, always love your blog. Except one thing. The comma goes INSIDE the quotes.