That Old Country Store

Once in a while a catalog from a well-known old time country store appears in my mailbox.  It is a great solace to feel that in New England there is still a place where one can find old time comforts.  A place that glories – even prospers – on resisting the so-called march of progress.

To browse through their catalog is like taking a slow trip into a happier, cozier age.  I find it very soothing to discover that my grandmother’s favorite soap, Pear’s, is featured, and that the popular scents of my youth, Lanvin’s “Arpege” or Coty’s “Lorigan” and “Emeraude,” and from Yardley’s of London the nostalgic aromas of lily-of-the-valley and lavender can be bought through this store.

For those of us ladies with, shall we say, “mature” figures, there is lots of help at this place.  In the catalog a multitude of choices can be found: take your pick from muumuus and caftans from Hawaii and Morocco to kurtas from India. There are endless ways to look exotic as you hide your figure problems.  On the more practical side, the store offers a number of those hard-to-find items, attractive, long-sleeved nightgowns. Remember the nostalgia of those long-ago girls’ slumber parties?  You’ll find baby-doll pajamas in the catalog, too.

Recent storms have made us conscious of our dependence on electric power.  How about an oil burning, glass-chimneyed hurricane lamp, or a palm-size pocket radio, battery operated?

Naturally, the store is famous for its maple syrup and for many sought after home-style edibles.  One expects those from this kind of old fashioned, homey sort of place.

It came as a huge shock therefore, as I browsed towards the last pages of the catalog, to discover some dismaying items from the modern world in a section titled “Intimate solutions.”  Some call them “sex toys.” In this catalog they’re described as “Intimate Massagers.”  The buyers are assured that the items are “extremely discreet.”

To come across this sort of thing in this sort of healthy, wholesome environment, gave me the kind of jolt and disillusion that I had when I first learned that there was no Santa Claus.

A word of caution to these buyers: Don’t store these items on the same shelves as your “spiced watermelon pickles” or your jars of Scrapple.