I don’t know how I got on the mailing list. I’ve never bought anything from them, either in person or online. I live about 2,000 miles from their closest brick-and-mortar stores. Yet once a month or so, I receive a catalog from this women’s sportswear company. And I love this catalog. It’s the stuff dreams are made of.
This ain’t your momma’s catalog. The models aren’t walking down a quaint main street while laughing casually at something just off camera. These women are running, jumping, sweating, They’re covered in sand playing beach volleyball. They’re windsurfing. They’re trail running through the rainforest. They’re hooking their surfboards to the tops of their Jeeps. I want to live inside this catalog.
Fun facts are listed next to the photos of each model. These are not J. Peterman descriptions. Louise likes kimchi and chocolate. Bryana’s talent is a five-minute handstand. Natalie rides her mountain bike to blow dry her hair.
Those tidbits are entertaining, but what I really want to know is, how can I stop working in a florescent-lit office, with offensive carpet that smells strangely like Tang, where I click the computer mouse until I have carpal tunnel syndrome, and instead windsurf all day. I want to be Beth, a former pro-soccer player with kick-ass calves, or Katy, who swings across leafy gorges. I am absolutely sure that if I could step inside the world of this catalog, I, too, could surf like Hannah, a world bodysurfing champion who isn’t afraid to be swallowed whole by a rogue wave.
If I order the “bliss jacket” and the “seaside slip-on skirt,” will I be magically transported out of the concrete icebox where I live to a place with cloudless blue skies and golden sand so I can “surf without a leash” like Maggie? (I’m not even sure what that means, but I want to do it.)
I want to be Bryana, whose hobby is trampoline. Yes, when someone asks what I like to do for fun, I want to answer, “I trampoline,” instead of “I drink coffee.” Though in my real life, the one through which I’m typing this, believes that after sixty seconds of trampoline, I’d find it repetitive. But in the catalog, there is no boredom! No frustration! No pasty, flaky skin!
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to place an order for the “reversible bodacious bottom” to see if there is any truth in advertising.
Have a great weekend, everyone!