Don't get me wrong, I'm not a penny pincher. When I was a teenager, I insisted on having brand-name clothes, and would hang my head in shame every time I had to enter a Bradlees or a Caldor (the Wal-Marts of Connecticut back in the day). I like to have nice things-- a nice house, nice clothes and nice things for my kids. I understand, even though I don't identify with, having a car as a status symbol. Eddie has a friend who drives a Porsche, and the thing is just impossibly tiny. It seats two and has practically no trunk. He and his wife came to visit us over the summer and wanted to bring Dance, Dance Revolution for us to play on the playstation, but he couldn't fit it in his car, and he refused to take his wife's car instead. Our next door neighbor drives a Nissan 350Z and spends hours every weekend washing and waxing it. As for us, we're perfectly happy with our Kia and our Dodge Neon, but I'll go as far to admit that one day I hope we drive cars that have fancy extras like cruise control and automatic windows.
So yeah, these outward status symbols, like big diamond rings and expensive diaper bags and strollers, I get those. I even sort of selfishly want those. I've gawked at a big rock on a woman's hand or at a Bugaboo enough times to know that the women who sport those probably feel pretty cool. But the recent Dyson vacuum phenomenon (you know, "the vacuums that don't lose suction") is one that I just don't get. A few years ago, when Dysons appeared on the market, suddenly a lot of seemingly-rational people I know started talking about them, and dropping large amounts of money to buy them. On several of the message boards I frequent, posts about where to find cheap Dysons (cheap defined as "costing less than $500") and which models are best to buy rival the posts about sales at Gymboree. Once again, I get the sales at Gymboree-- I understand the satisfaction that comes from having a child dressed from hairbow to socks in perfectly-coordinating neapolitan ice cream cone prints.
I don't understand the vacuum thing, though. Don't all vacuums do basically the same thing? Maybe I'm not enough of a vacuum connoisseur, but if my carpet looks pretty clean and is full of nice, plushy lines when I'm done using it, I consider that good. For another thing, vacuuming isn't something I do with other people around. It's not like I invite people over to watch me take a spin around the living room with my Wind Tunnel. Maybe if I were someone who vacuumed every day, I could understand the allure of the almost orgasmic pleasure Dyson owners take in seeing just how much stuff they can suck out of their carpets, but I think I'd rather live in ignorance on that account. Maybe they just want to build their muscles through housework. I'm the kind of girl who wants to get as much housework done in as little time as possible, so I have two vacuums-- one for the upstairs and one for the downstairs. The upstairs vac broke a few weeks ago, and when I was in Sears shopping for a new one, I took a gander at the Dysons. They're so much heavier than my nice little canister vacuum, which works perfectly well, and cost less than half of what I'd pay for one of those sexy vacuums promoted by the guy with the irritating British accent.
--originally published 11/22/06
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