What on earth would make me want to spend $90 on a monocle? 

Even stranger:  what would make me save a catalog for over 12 years?

Amazing copy. 

Check this out, from the J. Peterman (yes, that J. Peterman) catalog, dated “Christmas 1995.”  I haven’t changed a word.

The Return of the Monocle.

“Good grief, Peterman, do you want me to look like Erich von Stroheim?”

Relax, I’m not suggesting that at all.

It’s just that a monocle is more convenient and less ostentatious than carrying around a magnifying glass for tasks eyeglasses aren’t up to, like examining NASDAQ listings or the wings of a Vanessa atalanta.

Later, for private amusement, you might practice holding it in your eye, just as Napoleon, Beethoven, and other famous monocle-wearers have done before you.  There’s an art to this.  Please note extensions on the top and bottom of the frame (”galleries”) designed to help it stay put. 

There you have it.  Perfectly sensible, plus an option for hours, months, a lifetime, of drollery.

Magnifying Monocle (No. 39A2500) with 22K gold-plated nickel-silver frame, 42″ silk monocle cord (goes around one’s neck), and velour-lined carrying case.  Price: $90.  Made in England (where else?).

Monocle Method (sidebar)

Ca. 1806. The monocle as we now know it originates on the English stage.  Standardized monocle gestures soon develop to signify emotions with no facial expressions required, e.g., slowly removing monocle indicates anger; letting monocle drop from eye and bounce on waistcoat indicates surprise; inserting monocle indicates one is about to launch a shaft of wit.

My thoughts on this:

• Isn’t it funny that in the time that I’ve kept this catalog the idea of looking at NASDAQ listings in tiny print in the newspaper, rather than online, has become so quaint it’s almost funny?
• Let’s be clear.  A monocle isn’t “less ostentatious” than anything this side of a Carrera.
• Can you imagine how crazy you would seem if you pulled out a monocle at any time in public for any reason?
• And yet, in 1995, having just started my first real job, living in New York on far too little money, I really did want to plunk down $90 for this.  The copy got to me.

Just in case you thought great copywriting didn’t exist anymore, or in any case, didn’t exist on the web, you owe it to yourself to subscribe to the Woot Wine blog.   Here’s an example of amazing copy there: 

It’s an American tradition to oak chardonnay, and it’s a wine-snob tradition to turn up one’s nose at it. As you’d expect, Roshambo turns both traditions on their crusty old ears. Roshambo 2004 Chardonnay “Imago” is fermented in nothing but stainless (and flavorless) steel, so you taste the fruit, not the tree. Instead of oaky butter, here we find crisp, tropical flavors of white peach, pineapple, pear, and lemon zest. The “anything but Chardonnay” brigade ignore it to their detriment.

So let the snobs snicker and the scolds scoff. Let the exalted grand poobahs of the grape issue their fatwas against those who violate proper wine decorum. Roshambo’s heard it all before. Although lately, they’re hearing it less and less…

So as Peterman would say, there you have it.  Resolution #1 for 2008: write better copy.  It works.

Photo credit: sant0sk1