November 10, 2004

Get my publicist on the phone...

I've never been so angry and offended. In this week's New Yorker Caitlin Flanagan does a takedown on parental consumerism and the baby industry's skill at exploiting both new parents' fears and status-seeking urges, getting them to buy their way into good parenthood. The piece is pretty funny, more right than wrong, and has enough brand names and breathless ad copy to read like American Psycho: The Early Years.

She includes this paragraph:

The more expensive the stroller, the more the purchasing experience resembles that of buying a car, with test-ride programs and glossy brochures that focus on ergonomics and shock absorption. It's a sales technique that appeals to dads, who are eager to talk about suspension and handling. High-end strollers prompt a kind of fanaticism in a large number of their devotees...
So what really gets me angry? She doesn't mention Daddy Types once.


Anything that puts the dad in a good mood to survive the challenge of child-rearing is good. If you're a good dad, you don't get out as much as before you were a dad; shit, you don't even get to shower as often. So if you want the suspension and mags, why not, the kid doesn't know the difference. Have fun and enjoy it.

I always thought Caitlin had something against dads in general. Now I realize it's just a personal thing with you. Good thing she's in LA.

Does she have kids?

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