Sleeved-blanket Revolution

“You can do anything if you put your mind to it.”

I’d always harbored mixed emotions toward those words.

The English major in me desperately wished to believe in them – to proudly proclaim that anyone with a cause and a heart could change the world.

But another, gloomier side of me (my inner Eeyore) resented the phrase as naively ideal, feeling as though it ignored the chance and circumstance that unavoidably alters life. The phrase seemed so foolish, so patronizing.

Then, a bold new creation gave me reason to believe: the Snuggie.

Have you seen these? Marketed as blankets with sleeves, Snuggies are the newest winter weather accessories for easily chilled mothers and fashion-conscious Jedis.
In just three months, 4 million of these fleece wonders have been sold, at a pace that tops the meteoric takeoff of the iPhone after its initial release in 2007.

An instant success, the Snuggie seems too good to be true. So functional. So attractive. Something with sleeves that could wrap around me? The idea seemed so nice, but so familiar – like something I’d seen before.

Oh yeah, we called them robes.

But even then, this cover with arm holes, with its luring offers of plush warmth and promises to save the planet by allowing me to turn down my heat, was just so recognizable. I’d seen it before; I just couldn’t place it. Frustrated, I turned to the Internet. And there it was.

The Slanket.

Launched in 1998, the Slanket was developed by Gary Clegg, a University of Maine student, who was struck with the brilliant epiphany to tear arm holes in his sleeping bag while watching Late Night with Conan O’Brien. Though identical in design and absurdity, the Slanket (the true innovator in the sleeved-blanket revolution) has been eclipsed by its more aggressively advertised copycat, the Snuggie.

My heart sank.

Here’s a somewhat bold and not really new idea that some college student dreams up in the early hours of the morning. And then, the credit, profit and fleece-covered glory goes not to the gutsy creator who had the audacity to sell people a backwards robe, but to the advertiser who found a better way to do it. In this instance, originality of idea came in second to marketability.

And as long as someone will keep buying Snuggies, someone will keep selling them – even though blankets, robes and sweatshirts are time-tested, readily available and culturally acceptable.

Fiscally speaking, the booming sales of Snuggies in this down economy is encouraging news, suggesting the era of reckless, ridiculous American consumerism has not yet drawn to a close. Though our society becomes increasingly cynical and skeptical, we can still be won over by simple products with clever marketing.

But I’m left jaded.

It seems you can do anything you want – if you dedicate your mind to finding the best way to market your idea before being beat out by a competitor offering your creation in flashier packaging.

Blobes, anyone?