J. Peterman, O.C.: So Smart, So Sassy, So Wienerschnitzel
The J. Peterman Co. is bringing its wares to Fashion Island. One can only ask, what took it so long?
“Easy to wear. Easy to be with. Easy to look at. You know who I mean. Chestnut curls flying behind her. Porcelain skin. Big generous mouth. Alive, happy and completely adorable. It’s just how she is. And how you are, in this. Price: $128.”
That’s how J. Peterman, a Kentucky-based clothing and accouterments catalog company whose most famous employee is Elaine on “Seinfeld,” is advertising a dress in its spring ’98 catalog.
Or consider this enticement for a safari jacket:
“The mandrills have escaped from the monkey island once again and are performing colorful indecencies on the castle parapet. . . . Sir Randolph’s only reservation was about the propriety of wearing a safari jacket above the 50th latitude, but a handsome compromise has been worked out. Price: $138.”
Jerry once told Elaine that he didn’t respect her work. She seemed to understand why. Let me, however, reassure the J. Peterman people: In case you’re wondering if you’re too pretentious for Fashion Island . . . you’re not.
I say that as a petty little misfit and low-end shopper. I’m so cheap I wait for blowouts at the Pic N Save.
J. Peterman buyers, obviously, are more exotic types, people who equate their shirt purchases with midnight boat rides in Rangoon. I welcome the firm, but I know this county like the back of my hand. A lot of us are a bit more salt-of-the-earth types and, with that in mind, I strongly suggest the company consider some ad copy along these lines:
“The Wienerschnitzel on Orangethorpe, just after the holdup but still before closing time. Orangethorpe, Orangethorpe? Where had I heard that name before? Not to worry, it would come to me later. For now, the only problem was finessing the cashier, who was giving me a look like, ‘Don’t ask for extra ketchup, because we’re running short and I’ve been through a lot already tonight.’ I backed off, feeling colorless and frayed, the exact opposite of this smart Pendleton shirt. Price: $8.99.”
“Azure. Yellow. Magenta. Proof of God’s handiwork and some of the prettiest colors around, unless they’re the ones in the veins on the bridge of your best friend’s nose. I had begged him to stop drinking, but he wasn’t the type to take advice from me, a guy who’d never downed anything stronger than a double Bosco. I told him he looked pathetic, but he said he liked the fact his nose had the same colors as the watch cap I was wearing, pictured here. Price: $10.95”
“ ‘This yours?’ she said. ‘Yeah, that’s my Doberman,’ I said, tapping Biscuit on the head just lightly enough that he dropped her kitten from his jaws. ‘He gets a little impetuous sometimes,’ I said. ‘Plus, he hates cats.’ She said she knew all about impetuosity, and I couldn’t be sure but I think she was referring to my decision to come out for a walk that evening wearing nothing but this turquoise nightshirt and pink fluffy slippers. Price, nightshirt and slippers: $14. Optional cap, with tassel, add $2.95.”
“Ever stopped to appreciate the rain on a spring day, the kind that falls after a long desultory winter? Silly, romantic me. Of course, you have. Thoughts drifted last night as just such a rain came in through the holes in my roof and began puddling on the carpet and sofa and streaking my TV screen. Helpless but serene as the TV started shooting off sparks, I sat like the proverbial dunce cap in my easy chair, listening to the rain plink plink off this never-out-of-date steel-gray pith helmet. Price: $1.50”
“Westminster. Garden Grove. Mission Viejo. All towns I had been to in my travels over the years, each place claiming a bit of my heart and special pages in the photo album. Off the beaten path, yes, but each reachable by car or bus and lending themselves to untold opportunities, which for some reason remind this scribe of this matching yet out-sized pen-and-pencil set, each 9 1/2 inches long. Takes some getting used to, but isn’t that what life is all about? Price: $11.95. Pen refills: .50 each.”
“Cold peas in a saucepan. Ants in the sugar bowl. Never enough spare three-way light bulbs. Those were the things that, she claimed, drove her out. I was skeptical, thinking it was something more fundamental than that, but some people just aren’t willing to work out their problems. We fought and grieved, and eventually she took all her pictures, leaving me with 47 picture frames, like the gold-edged ones pictured here. Price: $1 each. Set of 9, $8.”
Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Readers may reach Parsons by calling (714) 966-7821, by writing to him at The Times Orange County Edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, CA 92626, or by e-mail at dana.parsons@latimes.com.
* TOGETHER, AT LAST
Newport’s Fashion Island and J. Peterman. D1
