This I don't get at all...
I'm staying at The Serrano Hotel in San Francisco; a quiet, friendly boutique hotel with great personal service. I check into my room and hanging next to a leopard skin bathrobe (quite the departure from the standard white terrycloth, I might add) were two pairs of the fluffiest, most comfortable-looking socks I had ever seen.
A little web research (see what I do instead of staying out late drinking?) tells me they're "Lounge Socks" from Karen Neuburger.
Now, if I'm the Serrano, or Karen, I want someone like me to try these on. Lord knows, if I actually like 'em, I might buy a pair...or knowing me, a dozen.
But check out the tag I found just as I was about to...well, "break apart" the socks. On one hand, it cordially invites me to enjoy these socks during my stay and at home. Everyday!
However, then it goes on to inform me that this enjoyment will cost me 11 bucks.
Now I'm no piker, but how do I know if I like these things without trying them on?
And how the hell could I try them on, let alone "enjoy them" without "breaking them apart"?
This is a big tease; the "playing footsie" equivalent of leaving that big bottle of refreshing water with the outrageous price tag.
I don't want or need your socks, Karen. You have chosen to invade my space and try to sell them to me. Good on you for that, but bad on your misguided marketing folks to convincing you to cheap out at the end.
I would think, given the relatively (pardon the pun) well-heeled clientele of the Serrano, it would be a wise investment to let us sample these properly. If they're as good as they seem, you'll sell zillions.
But trust me, I ain't the only hotel customer leaving these things hanging in limbo in the closet.
I'm probably just the only one blogging about it...and doing so barefoot.