by Julie M. Green
When it comes to decadence and rampant commercialism, I’ll be the first to admit there are a lot of things I don’t get.
I’m not a ‘bling’ sort of person. Naturally clumsy, I’ve never been one for heels. So the whole Sex in the City shoe fetish was lost on me.
I would sooner spend what little disposable income I have on a family trip or a spa treatment. When it comes to pampering, that’s something I not only understand but wholeheartedly endorse. A timely massage or pedi can do wonders for a mother’s ravaged body and soul.
Needless to say, I’m mystified and more than a little ‘bugged’ by the latest Bugaboo craze. There are cars that go for cheaper than the new stroller, which is the ultimate status symbol of the urban mama and papa.
In New York City alone, there’s already a waiting list, and in one store you had to book an appointment just to view the wheeled beast. For that sort of cold, hard cash, I would expect a test drive at the least, a hood ornament, valet service, even.
I mean, let’s get some perspective, people — we’re talking about a stroller here. The thing you use for pushing around a baby for the first two or so years of its life.
Don’t get me wrong, I understand the need for quality. And I’m sure the Donkey doesn’t depreciate much over a few child-bearing years.
Besides, I’m not about to start pitching things at glass houses. I own a jogging stroller. I don’t jog.
But being Canadian, I needed a reliable, hardcore stroller that could plough through all the seasons my native land would throw at me. My jogger not only copes, it thrives. And at $50 in a yard sale, it was a steal.
Of course it’s none of my business what mamas and papas choose to spend their money on. Heck, wouldn’t that bankroll be better plugged into an RESP for the child’s education?
It seems to me, in a world where austerity is the order of the day for most of us, the new Bugaboo is sticking up a smug finger and we are buying into its needless decadence en masse.
Julie M Green (aka Little Green Mom) is a novelist and freelance writer who rants and raves about all things mommy at Little Green One. She lives in Toronto with her husband and two-year-old son, Jackson. Visit her website or follow her on Twitter.