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YOU DON'T ALWAYS
GET WHAT YOU PAY FOR
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I set a new personal record last week. I put my sunglasses to
rest after a whopping three years of use. It was an emotional retirement
ceremony as I placed them gently into the rear seat pocket compartment of my
car. May they rest in peace.
My previous record for not losing my sunglasses was, I believe,
six months. They would disappear in all kinds of ways, falling off in the
ocean, left at a truck stop, or forgotten in a rental car. It is clearly a
sign of my newfound maturity that I held on to this pair for three years.
The scratches across the lens finally did them in. But since I
didn't lose them, I decided I was responsible enough to shell out big bucks
for one of those designer sunglasses that all the cool people wear.
I've always had a bit of a fascination with sunglasses. Many,
many years ago, in one of my misguided entrepreneurial visions, I imported a
line of inexpensive sunglasses from Taiwan. Maybe I should have known
better, considering the actual name of the manufacturer, believe it or not,
was Up-Yu Enterprises.
Nevertheless, I picked out 40 or 50 styles (1200 minimum
per style) at a whopping $1.00 each, and shipped them home to start my
sunglass empire. I named the company "Stormbreak" and waited for
the orders to come in. I'm still waiting.
Having boxes of sunglasses in your living room (overflow from
the garage) does not do wonders for your marriage. I don't remember how I
eventually got rid of those cheap little buggers, but I do know it was just
in time to avoid marital disaster.
Anyway, I naturally wore Stormbreaks for quite a few
years, since I had access to about 50,000 of them. When my supply finally
dissipated, I moved on to mid-range sunglasses, maybe in the $30-$50 range,
which I promptly lost.
Now, with my flourishing maturity, I was ready to take the next
step. I walked into an exclusive designer sunglass store last week and
perused the Oakley, Ray-Ban, Maui Jim, Gucci, Prada and Versace collections.
Not being much of a shopper, I quickly picked out a Maui Jim style that
looked remarkably similar to some of the cheap ones I used to wear.
"$229 FOR A PAIR OF SUNGLASSES!" I cried to the poor
salesperson. "That's ridiculous!"
"That's a good price," she replied. "We have
many styles that go as high as $1000."
She was trying, and succeeding, in making the $229 price tag
look cheap. But all I could think about was how I could buy 229 pair of
$1.00 sunglasses from China for the same price. Despite inflation, a quick
check of the Alibaba website (Asian imports) show sunglasses can still be
bought overseas for less than a dollar.
Nevertheless, the salesperson's spiel about protecting my
eyesight with quality glasses that are polarized and have 100% UV protection
was overwhelming. A quick glance in the mirror, and confirmation from the
salesperson that I looked cool (I didn't), and the deal was made.
On the way home, out of curiosity, I stopped at 7-11 and bought
a $10 pair which looked very much like my $229 pair. It also had a UV
sticker which claimed it blocked 100% of UV rays. Was it false advertising?
Nope. A quick check of the internet noted that studies have
shown that the cheap glasses do indeed block out 100% of UV rays (if noted
on the sticker), as measured by a spectrophotometer, whatever that is. It is
not expensive to manufacture lenses with 100% UV protection, so the argument
about protecting your eyes with higher-priced sunglasses is a weak one.
Designer sunglasses, like many things in life, are simply
ego-driven. I was paying for the Maui Jim logo, a more comfortable frame,
and the polarized lenses which reduce glare. That's definitely worth
something, just not 23 times the price.
I was also paying for coolness. And when I walked into the
house wearing my hot new sunglasses, I fully expected my wife to swoon.
"You look like a bug," she remarked. "Return
them."
I pulled out the $10 pair and put them on, hoping for a better reaction.
"You look like a cheap bug."
At least she could recognize the difference in the quality of
the frames. That was something. Not all that cool, but something.
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