In brief
An emotional exploration of the deep connections we foster with favored products, the heartache of their disappearance, and the tireless pursuit to reclaim past comforts.
The editor of Wirecutter, Alexander Aciman, recently shared an intriguing quest: his search for a discontinued lavender-scented aftershave from Crabtree & Evelyn, a cherished reminder of his father. As he recounted to my colleague, Steven Kurutz, the hunt is more than just nostalgia; it represents a desire to keep the scent alive, connecting with memories of the 1990s.Kurutz's thought-provoking narrative, "When They Stop Selling Your Favorite Thing," resonated deeply with readers, tapping into the profound relationships we form with everyday products. Consider the woman drawn to Pantene Nutrient Blends Miracle Moisture Boost — now obsolete since 2023 — who likened her attachment to a drug dependency. Others scour resale sites, embodying a unique form of paleontology, searching for the last remnants of beloved commodities like Tab cola, each item like a fossil of a bygone era.I, too, have an extensive history of tracking down discontinued favorites. My years-long quest for beloved underwear styles ended only when I charmed a local Dillard’s employee into revealing stock hidden in the depths of storage. I once penned a heartfelt plea to a lip balm manufacturer, receiving the last remnants from their lab in return.Businesses often have valid reasons for discontinuing products; a lack of sales doesn't make personal attachments any less poignant. When brands discard our cherished items, it feels like a betrayal, disrupting our familiar routines – how could they endanger our Q-tips or favorite lotions?Small choices like selecting the right moisturizer or lip gloss offer a sense of stability in our chaotic lives, providing a sanctuary where we can feel at ease. We expect to adapt as we mature, moving forward while our favorites remain steadfast.Reflecting on previous discussions about letting go, I've come to reconcile the thrill of the hunt with the reality that one day the search may yield no results. Some cultivate a hoarding mentality, stocking up on favorites at the first sign of discontinuation. While this preemptive strategy makes sense, I find solace in a minimalist approach. I currently enjoy an underwear style that serves its purpose well, and with a sufficient number of pairs for a laundry cycle, I feel content. Once that style fades from the market – a fate I predict is inevitable – I’ll certainly search for it again, but I’m also ready to embrace new options when that occasion arises.
