Seattle Gift Show: an outsider infiltration

This is the Washington Convention Center. It's a massive building in which commerce is enjoyed on a large scale. Picture taking isn't really encouraged inside the event. To be allowed to wander the hallowed isles of complete commercial crap you must provide a formidable stack of proof that you have a right to be there: picture ID, proof of federal tax ID, business license, at least five invoices of amounts over two hundred dollars for gift type goods, a birth certificate, proof of family status, pet pictures, and a blood sample.

My sister took me to the one in San Francisco a year and a half ago when I was on crutches from having broken my hip. She could tell you that it is an amazing event to see; isle after isle of stuff you avoid at Hallmark like the plague. It is rare that outsiders get to see this side of commerce. I thought it would have been marvelous to have had the guts to just whip out my camera so that I could write a great journalistic piece on this trade show accompanied by revealing photos. I don't usually fancy myself a journalistic type of writer, but this trip brought it out of me. I stifled my urge to get myself in a heap of trouble.

I have to admit, before I completely slam the essence of this event, that there really were some cool companies there showing unique merchandise. I found a few amazing card companies that I had not previously seen, I found a fantastic source for realistic fake birds and bees, and I found what I think is a great bath product line. When you consider, though, that there were over a thousand vendors present, finding four or five lines of cool goods is pretty pathetic.

Here are a few of the wonders to be bought:

• A variety of neon colored rubber alien looking balls and "wigs" that you can don to show the world what a wild cat you really are. Beer not included.

• A bunch of companies "specializing" in regional tourist goods: Alaska t-shirts, Pacific North West goods with moose on them, sweatshirts with the state of Oregon printed on them. The kind of stuff you buy at the base of the space needle.

• I cannot tell you how many companies were there selling crappy pink stuffed animals with hearts embroidered on their chests. Some of you may love these things, and that's your prerogative, but I've been forced to see enough of them recently at my local post office and it worries me that people are buying such stupid things for each other as a token of love. When I see how many crafting people out there are making genuinely cool stuffies, ones that are unique, interesting, and sweet without making me want to kill myself, I just can't understand why people are wasting their money on the horrible Walmart variety teddy bears.

• The handmade section was abysmal. I understand that many people have not gotten over burl wood crafts, but it's time. Almost all the handmade crafts being shown were cheesy, uninspired, completely unhip, and seriously depressing. C'mon people, make some wind socks that aren't rainbow nylon. The only cards in this section were these horrendous brightly embossed designs. I want to support hand made goods. I can't afford to sell lots of it in my store, but I'm trying to find what I can afford because there are so many wonderful handmade things being made out there, there's no excuse for crap.

• I want to know what's up with people getting tapestries made with the images of their babies on them. Does no one understand how TACKY that is? Or their pets?

• Lastly, the country style goods were like a tumor choking out all the sunlight in the world. I love a good fake-aged galvanized bucket, I love enamel ware, I really do. I can appreciate quite a lot of the country aesthetic, but really, the amount of aged wooden signs saying "This house serves the word of the Lord" and "God bless us, every one" is just stupefying.

I learned a lot about going to trade shows on this trip. At first I couldn't understand why all these idiot women had rolling luggage with them. Jesus, you'd think they were afraid to leave their things in their hotels...which if they were staying in the same hotel as me I kind of understand. They weren't idiots, they were way smarter than me. The rolling luggage is for transporting the plethora of catalogs you acquire without forcing your arms into a state of permanent numbness from carrying an extra fifty pounds of pulp in a paper shopping bag. I will know for next time.

There's a kind of excitement that circulates these events. People are there to shop and what can be more stirring than spending tons of money with the hopes that the goods you buy will eventually turn into more money? It almost makes a person hot with anticipation. (I said ALMOST) It is mostly women buying. Some surprise, huh? Most of them travel in packs. There's a good reason for that. Not only do you need the moral support and someone to gossip with, but you do not look like weak prey for the pushy reps in the gifty desert when you are part of a group. I had to avoid a lot of eye contact with salespeople who were repping lines that I could see out of the corner of my eye would make me want to slit my own throat if I had to look at them all day long.

Lucky for me I'm a lot more wily than I appear. I look pretty open, like an easy sell. A lot of people make the mistake of assuming that I am easily influenced, that I am gullible (I've had my moments to be sure) and that I am too weak to say no. I will take your catalog out of politeness, because I know how hard you're working and how clueless you are about the degree to which your goods offend me. But when I return to the Williamson Ranch with the offending catalog I will burn it on a pyre in grave disgust. And I will curse you for trying to lure me into buying evil crap that I wouldn't give to my worst enemy.

I am going to recap with a few handy tips for the next time you find yourself required to travel to a trade show; the retail mecca of the west:

• Wear good walking shoes. Preferably ones that have little tiny angels holding your feet just a little bit off the ground on cushions of clouds.

• Bring a rolling suitcase to comfortably store all the catalogs you will later burn in a soul cleansing ritual.

• Come in a pack, you won't have to work so hard to fight off the hungry hyenas. Plus you'll have more fun dissing all the bazaar fashions wandering loose around the great retail Sahara.

• Take a break in the middle of the day. Don't fall for the prepackaged sandwich scam, it isn't food. It looks like food, and you'll be ravenous from all the work avoiding the garden signs reading "Fairies welcome here". Instead, go for some hot food and be sure to drink a pint of the finest ale you can find. It will pluck up your courage to return, which you will need.

Next up: a visit to the permanent showrooms. A little visit to hell itself.