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I suppose if one is a Socialist, one knows that there is no such thing as an innocent purchase, which probably only added to the exquisite delight delight Nancy Mitford- a self-proclaimed Socialist- took in outfitting herself in Dior.
When one becomes a parent, not only is every purchase suspect, every self-righteous so-and-so will feel compelled to conjure an opinion about the rightness or lameness of one's choices. The only response to this is to be amused.
This occurred to me when I noticed the New York Times stirring the pot last week when it ran this zinger of an article, guaranteed to worm its way into the website's right hand column list of "Most E-Mailed" articles. Indeed, the title of the piece says it all: Supersize Strollers Ignite Sidewalk Drama. A little alliteration, and the intimations of bloodless battle, mixed with a whiff of class and privilege are guaranteed to catch even jaded eyes.
You know what this piece is about. I don't need to tell you. Some people hate the large strollers that trundle the streets; stroller users are defensive and it all turns into a story about class or why it's better to be child-free or some other garbage. There is no news here. I think at bottom the article really reveals that it is best not to be a jerk and to apologize when you bump into someone. But that's hardly "news," is it?
Even more amusing was a letter to the editor written by a woman who seemed to want to be applauded for her decision to wear her child, saying that people should think of her behavior as a peaceful gesture, an olive branch between these warring factions. How nice that someone is capable of introducing another supercilious side to the debate.
Politics and privilege aside, strollers trigger all sorts of manias in people.
I know people who collect strollers, who fantasize about the latest and greatest, who know all the lingo. At first, this passion seemed to have been created by the stroller manufacturers who were trying to market to men- thus the super shiny models with exposed suspension systems and all sorts of snap-on attachments. But now that so many possibilities are out there everyone's imaginations have run wild, and it is hard for anyone not to fetishize the kid-mobile.
The stroller harbors so many dreams- of convenience and freedom, safety and speed. How could these not inspire even the most sleep-deprived parent?
Consider the Bugaboo that everyone complains about. All the models are so cheerful and easy to deal with.
But they don't fold up nearly as fast as this European number.
And this one looks weird, but supposedly keeps your kid from feeling inferior (and there's some argument about avoiding fumes, but, really, if you want to avoid fumes, I think the trick is to move to Idaho.)
And then there are the wild twin strollers.
This one supposedly saved a kid's life when a building collapsed around it on upper Broadway in July.
Here's a space saver, though I wonder if it doesn't trigger what seems to me like the inevitable "I get the top bunk" fight.
And then there's the Hartan Z. It's German and while people seem to love it, in the United State one must do all sorts of tricks to get it.
For my part, I confess, I use the Bugaboo Frog. So there. It's a workhorse. I can use it one-handed while I walk the dog. I can hang all sorts of groceries off the back of it, and it doesn't get caught in the cobblestones.
And if I do bump into someone, which I try desperately not to do, I always, always apologize.
Oh and here's a postscript.
There must be something in the zeitgeist because Salon just ran an Object Lust column all about the double decker stroller. Indeed, it sounds fab.
posted by Elise at 12:24 PM
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