Look, I know Mothers’ Day is racing towards us like a doilie-festooned express train, but I am starting to go bug-eyed at what the nation’s retailers thinks women want for their endless parental efforts. And thanks to the lovely Allie Dickinson I have now been exposed to the festering efforts of White Stuff. Yes, in its race to hoik up its profits before the end of the financial year White Stuff has grabbed the UK’s mothers and thrown them under the bus like menstruating roadkill.
See, White Stuff is pimping the following items as appropriate Mothers’ Day presents in a press release: an embroidered t-shirt, Earl-Grey flavoured lip balm, a heart necklace, a book about baking, spring scarves, a bag for “mum’s stuff”, soap and a top with a “ditsy bug and leaf print”. Oh, and if you grab your mother by the scruff and drag her into White Stuff on the Mothers’ Day weekend they will give her a “nice cup of tea” and free hand cream. Worse, because it can always get worse, the entire press release is a thousand different shades of pink. It’s like staring into a dilated cervix.
Is White Stuff having us the fuck on? See, because unless it is officially still operating as if it were 1963 I’m going to hang on to my sanity by assuming that the store is selling this stuff ironically. The problem is that it’s not, though, is it? Instead it is genuinely selling stuff that doesn’t embrace the mothering stereotype so much as grab its arse and ask it for a shag.
Seriously, I don’t know a single woman who would want any of this calamitous tat for Mothers’ Day. That’s because all the mothers I know buy cake from Tesco, wear scarves with skull designs, swig triple shot coffee and would rather die than wash their faces with a bar of soap. They have as much room in their lives for “ditsy” designs, tea-tasting lip-balm and embroidered t-shirts as the last Pope had for openly gay men.
And what in the fuck is with this misguided notion that all mothers like to drink tea? Oh, and not just drink tea now n then, mind you, but drink it to the point that they would actually die without it, like an oxygen-starved Neil Armstrong floating through space. Worse, at what point does White Stuff think that modern women need to have tea bought for them. You can buy a packet of Glen-fucking-gettie in the local Spar. Believe me, even if the entire female gender were to adore tea they wouldn’t wait to be gifted it on bloody Mothers Day.
See, I have no real idea who these gifts are aimed at. I’m assuming that White Stuff has a demographic chart in one of its meeting rooms which includes women warming slippers and ironing copies of The London Times for their men. I suspect said chart also includes pictures of said woman gently chiding her dirty-kneed sons for scuffing their shoes and taking her tiny daughter to task for smudging the lace ruff of her Sunday dress. In fact, if you were to sneak in and introduce a photo of a mother with blue nails, a biker jacket, a love of Eric Hobsbawm and a stellar career in brain surgery a sinkhole would probably open up in the floor, sucking the entire organisation into it.
And yeah, some women may be chuffed to shit with lip balm that’s been made by the P G Tips monkeys but the problem is that White Stuff isn’t frigging alone. Allie Dickinson also alerted me to a press release from Firebox, suggesting that you buy the egg-dispensing women you call mum a teapot brooch, a mug, a knitting kit, a tea-infuser, placemats or a chocolate face mask. I know. It’s like the WI on crack.
So if I were to be gifted with any of these things on Mothers’ Day morn I would actually want to be thrown under a bus like menstruating roadkill. In fact, I would throw myself under said bus. Still, I dare say I could always be revived by a rejuvenating cup of bloody tea. Save a bag for me, White Stuff, save a bag for me.
What do you think? Are you just dying for more tea for Mothers’ day or do you want something a little more 21st Century. You know you want to tell me…