It could be a t-shirt, a pair of khakis, perfume, cologne, a tie, a pair of shoes or a little black dress. Everybody has a favorite something, and in my experience people spend a significant amount of time in search of their ever-elusive favorite thing. Maybe it’s because the article of clothing being replaced has been worn into a ratty mess that’s no longer fit for public. Perhaps un-practiced boyfriend or husband washed the perfect white t-shirt (notoriously difficult to locate) with the dark clothes, rendering the white shirt a muddy grey cast-off. Sometimes you just haven’t found your favorite yet, and thus spend ever increasing sums of money on “eh, close enough” things that, let’s face it, are no where near what you want.
Then there’s the discontinued favorite thing. Even the word leaves a dirty taste in your mouth, prompting you to rush out and purchase your favorite lipstick in bulk, lest Stila decide to discontinue your favorite shade.
I have personally experienced every incarnation of the replacing-of-the-favotire-thing process. Favorite jeans? An absolute nightmare of holes, patches and frayed hems and therefore wholly unsuitable a practical article of clothing. But jean companies keep cranking out jeans of every size, shape, length and wash, so while replacing a favorite pair of jeans is a tedious and painful process, it is doable. I could cope with this one.
Then there was the time the dry-cleaners ruined a dress that I had worn once, inciting an entirely unnecessary amount of inner rage on my part, and my dad has “lost” his laundry privileges due to his oversight of the “whites only” rule. Which brings me to the most loathed reason for having to replace a favorite item…discontinuance (boo hiss). I have experienced this twice; two very painful and frustrating times have my favorite things been unceremoniously pulled from their shelves, disappearing into the ether as though they never existed.
The first time this occurred, I stumbled upon the perfect fragrance by accident in London. It was The One. It was Burberry Gold, and I adored it. It was light, a little spicy, and best of all, not every half-wit who has ever been to a duty-free store in an airport had this one (coughBurberryBritcough). You see, I like to pick my fragrances based on their smell, not their bottle or manufacturer- a novel idea, don’t you think?- so when it turned out that my favorite scent was Burberry, it was neither here nor there. I was in love. So when I ran out, I blithely skipped to Sephora to replace my beloved gold-plaid bottle, only to find that it had been discontinued. You see, fragrance companies apparently like to introduce “Limited Edition” perfumes, the point of which still entirely eludes me, so if you happen to fall in love with such a fragrance as I did you’re SOL. Scream at a wall, mentally curse the day you ever smelled it, and move on. It’s not coming back. Next time try something by Britney Spears.
The second time this happened was today. I have been painstakingly searching for the perfect red nail polish, and have amassed an unholy amount of bottles in the process. Then today, as I was choosing a color for my pre-beach mani-pedi, I saw it: the perfect red nail polish. I have found, though much trial and error, that not everybody can wear the same shade of red, and my joy at finally finding the ideal color caused me to rush out and purchase a bottle of this crimson miracle. So imagine my utter and bleak disappointment, my heartbreak and despair, when I was informed that it was part of the “Alice and Wonderland” collection, which obviously had been dis.con.tin.ued.
I rashly snatched the next-best-thing, stormed out of the store, called my mom and unleashed my anger at her as I drove home. I penned an imaginary letter to OPI, berating them for their asinine habit of creating 47 nail polish collections a year, only to break some poor woman’s heart the moment they discontinue her favorite shade to make room for their new Pixar-themed collection.
Once I settled down and I came to terms with the fact that I’m a pawn in the OPI marketing scheme, I decided the best way to deal with a favorite thing being discontinued actually is to just scream in your car and write a pretend nasty letter. Because really, I feel much better now.