By Marla Boone
Contributing columnist
Good things come in small packages, right? Isn’t that the conventional wisdom? I can think of several small things that would come in handy: gold nuggets, diamonds, and a BP gift card. But this is less about the size of the package than it is about the appearance of the package itself. Somewhere exotic, perhaps New York or Burbank or Elk Mound, Wisconsin (that’s a real place, by the way) there are teams of people with vivid imaginations and apparently unlimited expense accounts that let them drink at lunch. I think this because packaging is weird. This leads me to believe the people who design packages are a few furs short of a sled-full themselves. To illustrate this admitted gross generalization, I am going to describe the packaging of a few items I found at my house. I would like to stress that I did not buy any of these items because of their packaging. I acquired them either because they were on sale or, better yet, free.
Before me sits a small white plastic bottle of body wash. Back in the olden days we used to wash with soap. Weren’t we barbarians? Now we have body wash, which is liquid soap with soaring ambition. The maker of this item is a company that rhymes with “Love.” Its logo is a small gold bird in flight. On the label, right under the bird is a depiction of something. That’s right, something. I’ve had this bottle of stuff for one month and I could not figure out just what message the “Love” company was trying to convey with this unknown something. The picture of the something is mostly white which makes you wonder about the visual acuity of the designer. “Hey, let’s put a white picture on a white bottle. THAT will boost sales.” It’s sort of a flowing white thing with some brown in it. At first I thought it was supposed to be a white version of the gold bird. But then I thought…why have two birds unless you’re trying to kill them with one stone? What it really, REALLY looked like was an unfortunate end-product that the logo bird had dropped onto the label. That made less sense than two birds. Upon very close examination in very bright light, it seems the depiction is a picture of the body wash being poured. What a concept! The company wants us to pour their product out of the bottle and use it. Keep in mind this portrayal was the winner of the ad campaign. I’m trying to imagine what came in second. Maybe real end-product.
Next up is a bottle of shampoo. It is not just any shampoo, it is a smoothing shampoo. It has a place in my home because any time the humidity rises above, oh, I don’t know, three percent, my hair takes on a life of its own. A very lively life. This is hair that Albert Einstein would embrace. The label says the shampoo contains coconut oil and cocoa butter. And right there on the label is a coconut split in two and what I think is a cocoa nut all in one piece but with a large puddle of yellow oil underneath it. So apparently what we have is a leaking cocoa nut. God knows in this supply chain nightmare where you’d find a gasket for a cocoa nut. When the contents of the bottle are poured on your head, it smells as though you have been immersed into a giant pina colada. It’s that coconut-y. The interesting part of the label is the background. The coconut is resting against foliage that for all the world looks like the branch of a white pine. The small print assures me the shampoo is “enriched with a natural blend.” Doesn’t say a natural blend of what but if they’d throw a little rum in there (natural rum, of course) they’d sell vats of it.
Calling all horticulturists. I have a bottle of hair conditioner. My hair needs a lot of conditioning. (See above.) This bottle is nicely shaped, with a little curve in it to afford a good grip while you are in the shower, blinded by cocoa nut oil. It’s designed to be stored upside down so that the product is right there, ready to squirt out. I never trust the lids on these bottles because the product is right there, ready to squirt out. Although I have tried almost every conditioner available in an effort to beat my hair into submission, this particular conditioner comes from Herbal Essences. The picture on the label is of raspberries, which are not, in essence, herbs. They are fruits unless it’s a case of oddball-ism whereby a tomato is a fruit and a strawberry is a vegetable. But no way a raspberry is an herb. To paraphrase the late Lloyd Bentsen, I’ve known herbs. I’ve worked with herbs. Herbs have been friends of mine. And raspberry, you’re no herb.
Marla Boone resides in Covington and writes for Miami Valley Today
