Don’t be sold on ‘the perfect gift’

LOLITA HARPER

Ask a typical child what the best part of Christmas is and I will bet

you get this answer more times than not:

“The presents.”

I’ll save you the usual ramblings about why this should not be the

case, as I believe any rational adult -- or mature child -- can

understand that the holiday season is a time of celebration and joy

and not just a chance to hoard a bunch of loot.

Instead, I offer you a new reason to shun the ideology that gifts

should be the main focus of the season: The seasonal marketing

campaigns.

Is it just me, or has anybody else noticed the complete nonsense

that has plastered the media, with messages of “the perfect gift.”

Apparently, December is a magic month that turns any imaginable item

into an essential offering that inspires peace, hope and love. With

the wave of the magic marketing wand, a bar of soap becomes a “must

have” and a new oven mitt is the “hottest item of the season.”

Who really wants to find anti-diarrhea medicine in their stocking?

Do you think any woman would be flattered to receive the latest

“Tummy Trimmer” -- as seen on TV? The Web site encourages you to

hurry and place your order before Christmas. Yep, nothing says lovin’

like a girdle. Perhaps you could score some cow wrapping paper, just

to hammer home the point.

Being in the news business, the Daily Pilot inbox has been flooded

with similar press releases suggesting gift ideas from everything

such as a membership to the Ocean Conservancy organization to mini

remote-controlled vehicles. Did you know you can name a star after

somebody? Only, it’s not named after them in any official capacity

but for about $40 you do get a snazzy certificate that proclaims as

much, until you get to the fine print.

The folks at Dirt Devil wanted to let us know that their “Extreme

Power Cordless Hand Vac” is perfect for the person who has it all.

Why? Because this product -- and others like it -- make everyone’s

life a little easier, the release says. The marketing gurus have also

included a list of other gifts conveniently listed by price.

Imagine the joy that would come from opening one of the biggest

and heaviest presents under the tree. You tear back the wrapping and

what do you find? The curving red tail of the Dirt Devil logo. Could

it be? Is it true? Frantic rips reveal the entire package and there

it is: Your very own Vac ‘N’ Mop. Quick, someone go spill on the

kitchen floor.

Here’s a snippet from a release from the Art of Shaving Co., in

which it refers to a man’s face as a “canvas,” and touts a new line

of accessories designed to prohibit nicks and cuts:

“Upon receiving his gifts, he will embrace the Art of Shaving

philosophy and learn to feel, look and live better.”

Suuuure ...

It gets better. Those at Clyde Sight Productions suggest stuffing

stockings with their latest CD, “Symphonia Felina.” A “mewsical

masterwork” of digital music composed by a cat named Clyde Big Paws.

OK then.

While we are on the subject of gift-giving, who decided that

extremely large rounds of processed meat and cheese, cradled by a

basket and wrapped in cellophane with a tidy bow was the season’s

automatic default gift? Just give me the $25. But I digress.

My favorite though is the mass e-mails about little blue pills and

“all natural” tablets that will increase the size of certain body

parts.

The solicitations have always been laughable but the holiday twist

inspires an extra chuckle.

“No, no, baby, seriously, I love you just the way you are. That

present was from Santa.”

I guess I shouldn’t complain. These ill-conceived marketing

campaigns always serve to remind me how silly and superficial the

whole “presents” aspect is.

Don’t get me wrong, the spirit of giving is important. There is

nothing better than watching somebody’s eyes light up when they

unveil that truly “perfect gift.” But holiday shopping should remain

in that context: as a way to make others happy, not simply to peddle

goods.

* LOLITA HARPER writes columns Wednesdays and Fridays. She may be

reached at (949) 574-4275 or by e-mail at lolita.harper@latimes. com.