Dear Ethel sent me a pair of women's gloves, won via a giveaway at Garden Rant. Ethel's marketing is, well, divine--a pretty shipping box, lovely gift box for the gloves, a hand-written note, and a full color "brochure" of their glove line.
Fashion. Function. Protection. Ethel.
Oh Ethel, I am already falling in love with your lovely facade--but is beauty only skin deep? Will these gloves make me FEEL taken care of? That's all I've ever wanted in life--for a glove to take care of me, to gently guide me by the hand through the dirty, dirty soil and compost and fallen twigs and deadheaded blooms.
Upon opening the box, even the non-gardening wife said how nice the gloves were. And they sure seem to be. A good snug fit on my hand, and they have a nice faux-suede palm perfect for gripping; so although I am not a woman--though I am in intimate contact with my feminine side at all times--I will slip these gloves on as if gliding into a cool pool of water, washed clean, revitalized, the tranquility of the moment protecting me from the real and imagined harm in the world around me. I am beautiful. I am adored. Oh Ethel. Oh my.