An Open Letter to The Container Store

I received a catalog today from the Container Store with the following title: "Been Dreaming of a Dream Closet?"

First of all I want to clarify that this will not be one of those blogs where I mock people who dream about home improvement. I find no fault with that. In fact, sometimes, in my (nonexistent) free time, I research shoe trees online. If you have a spare moment, I recommend doing the same. You'd never guess how many kinds of shoe trees exist. I'm still debating which one to buy. The point is, dream about whatever you want, even if it includes home organization.

With that said, Container Store, I looked in your catalog and I'm extremely disappointed.

When you send out a mailing about dreaming of a dream closet, I assume that a) You recently fired your copywriter and are using an unpaid intern and b) the material in the catalog is the organizational heaven that dreams are made of. I expected the best. You did not deliver.

What, pray ask, is the best? Well, some of you probably already figured it out. There is one dream closet that no closet system from Ikea, Container Store, or any other retail outlet can match. One closet stands above the rest. One closet prevails. It is the closet we grew up dreaming of, the fantasy closet from our childhoods. It is, simply put, the stuff dreams are made of.

It is...

Cher's closet in the movie Clueless.

I know. It's cruel to even put your little box store in the same category as the wondrous, automated, rotating, computer-controlled closet from that gem of a movie. There's no way you'd measure up. Nothing can top the scene in which Cher pouts at the touch screen when it tells her, "NOT A MATCH!" until she combines that yellow plaid jacket and skirt.

It's only fair, thought, to show you what you were up against. Now you know why I was so disappointed. When you imply that the contents of a catalog are the stuff closet dreams are made of, that is what we are hoping for.

So cut the false advertising.