Heart and Mind

Snugg it Up, Bitch

As you likely know, there's this "As Seen on TV" grade product called a Snuggie that has a patently ridiculous commercial shot in the style of the cheesiest infomercials.

Search it on YouTube if you don't know what a Snuggie is, as there are a number of different commercials for the product and they're all worth a look. The concept and original commercial seemed daft enough, but then they upped the ante when subsequent commercials showed the actors happily frolicking about (doing this funny "upwards arm dance") or looking like a choir of monks, ostensibly at a football game, where one lone Snuggie-less person is conspicuously freezing his tail off.

The Snuggie is described as a blanket with sleeves, which is pretty much accurate. The most clichéd pot-shot made at it is that it's simply the equivalent of wearing a robe backwards. On the one hand, you could reasonably argue that this is inaccurate, as a Snuggie is much larger than a robe and it's not contoured the same way. It's more like... well, a blanket with sleeves. But on the other hand, it certainly seems enough like a backwards robe to warrant a place in the "I'll never buy one of those" department. It would not be unreasonable to say, "You can split hairs anyway you want... I don't need a backwards robe."

And you know what? You don't. But the Snuggie people seems to know something about us that we don't know. Perhaps it's that the worse your TV commercial is, the more attention it will garnish. For that reason most likely, the Snuggie was a hot gift this holiday season. I saw it first hand.

It all started with me at a holiday party a couple of weeks pre-Christmas. There was to be a white elephant gift swap, where one would expect to see "bad" gifts, and right before it started, I made a crack about how I wanted to get the ball rolling in anticipation of seeing a Snuggie or two among the bounty. As if on cue, the very first package opened was a his-and-hers Snuggie set. Pink and blue.

Now, I couldn't ever imagine using a Snuggie. And I think most of the guys at this party were cops and kind of "manly men" types. And yet even among this crowd, when my turn came around, I unabashedly announced that "for kitsch value alone," I had to claim those Snuggies. And it was true. It was all about the camp value. Snuggies, and particularly the commercials that advertise them, are so ridiculous that there is joy in associating yourself with it. I didn't really know these folks at the party and I took the risk of being sized up as some girlie-man weirdo, all to be closer to Snuggie's campy aura.

As it turns out, though, I did not take the Snuggies home. Someone else knew a good thing when they saw it and took them from me. I thought there was a chance they'd slide under the radar. In a white elephant exchange, if you take a gift that is clearly a winner (an extensive set of tools was the hot item in this particular swap), you'll only hold onto it until the next person claims it. The trick is to grab something that might not be completely awful (like the ornaments I ended up taking home), but not particularly great, either. Like the Snuggies.

Again, at this point, I could not ever actually picture myself using a Snuggie, even though I wanted to have one. But I have to admit... shortly after, I had a moment that made me think of the Snuggie commercials. I couldn't sleep, and it was about 3:00 in the morning and I was out on the couch watching TV. It was chilly in the house, so I grabbed a blanket. And whenever I'd go to use the remote, my arms would create this hole in the carefully wrapped cover that let this draft in. Of course, I had to think, "Son of a bitch! This is the problem the Snuggie purports to solve!" I had to chuckle.

Now, while holiday shopping, it was hard to miss that the Snuggie was everywhere. Not just at those "As Seen on TV" kiosks in the mall, but at otherwise reputable stores. And I actually ended up buying one—or, more accurately, a cheaper "knock-off" version of the Snuggie—for my mother, who is among the only people I could think of who would likely thoroughly appreciate the Snuggie for entirely non-ironic reasons. She's a sexagenarian (get your mind out of the gutter and go look it up) and increasingly crotchety about things like draftiness. The Snuggie is right up her alley.

But that's not the only one I bought. I was looking for small gifts for the co-workers in my department at work: one female, one male. The female got a home-knitted scarf that my wife made. Now, the male also likes scarves, but my wife deemed that all her scarves are "kind of girly looking." So, ironically, we vetoed the idea of an effeminate scarf only to replace it with possibly the most unmanly item in any store: a Snuggie!

Of course, it was, again, for the kitsch value. It was pretty much a gag gift. Any item where you preface the delivery by saying, "If you accept this gift, you have to use it," has to be a gag gift, and that's precisely what I told him. So, of course, when he opened it, we had a big laugh, and then proceeded to take pictures of him wearing it around the office, posing as though he is "working" in the Snuggie, hitting cheesy, stock poses like changing the paper in the printer or talking on the phone while donning the Snuggie.

But I give him credit, because he did actually admit that he will, in fact, use it. After all, it is at its core basically just a blanket. Blankets come in handy. When he called home, his lady expressed appreciation for the gift by by saying, and I quote, "That shit's mine."

Christmas came and went, and I didn't experience the Snuggie joy for myself. But just when you think it's all over...

The day after Christmas, I got a late present from someone I didn't see on the holiday itself and... guess what? My very own Snuggie. It seemed fitting.

When I got home, the whole family took turns wearing the thing and taking pictures in cheesy poses. It was wonderful fun.

I haven't actually used it yet, outside of the photo shoot. I quickly sent it down to be laundered. For reasons I won't get into here, I felt like it should see a cycle through the wash before anyone around here uses it. But will I use it?

Yeah, probably. Why the hell not? My wife is sitting next to me as I type, reading and wrapped in a blanket. I'm going to turn to her right now...

"Are you cold?"

"Well, I'm alright with the blanket on me."

Those quotes are exact, and that conversation really did just go down as I type this.

She is alright with the blanket on her. But would she, and we, be better—and better able to handle the deftly coordinated page-turns—with sleeves? With a Snuggie? Probably.

I'll let you know how it works out for us.

posted by Steve @ 9:27 PM