A few examples:

"For me the box makes the doll, too. It's just part of what she is… I love to see them in their natural state, and to me it's in a box."

"I won't buy a damaged box with a corner smashed in. Unless I really want it that bad."

"You look at the box corners. You make sure there's no marks, no tears, no wear."

Maybe I'm sick in the head, but the first thing that came to mind was: Replace "box" with vagina. They sound like dudes who want virgins.

The second thing that came to mind? It's a doll! Designed to be played with. Isn't it sort of sad to keep this thing from its destiny?

According to the Post, not all collectors are pro-box: One convention attendee wore a pin which read "Debox! Debox! Debox!" She explains: "I collect them because I love them and I don't plan on reselling them. You can't appreciate the full gown or the detail of the cloth [when it's] in the box."

This makes sense to me, but then again, I'm not a true collector. Ever-so-briefly, I bought lunchboxes whenever I saw them; then typewriters — and had small collections. But it never interested me to have any item in new, pristine, perfect condition. I liked digging around in junky stores and finding relics with remnants of their past life still clinging to them: Someone's name scribbled inside a lunchbox; a well-used, scratched-up Smith-Corona that might have been used for poetry or paperwork. But I've long since abandoned the hunt.

But collecting seems so anal, so regimented, so involved, that it's tough to understand where the pleasure comes in — especially if you're not even touching your precious Barbies.

On the other hand, I lean toward having a clutter problem and I definitely get how intricately linked possessions and personality can be. But I recently got rid of a lot of crap, and I'm trying to (ahem) think outside the box.

At Barbie Confab, Sometimes The Box Open Only To Debate [WaPo]

[Image via nicolenicole's Flickr]

"Americans have been on an acquisition binge for decades," Quindlen writes. "I suspect television advertising, which made me want a Chatty Cathy doll so much as a kid that when I saw her under the tree my head almost exploded." Quindlen notes: "A person in the United States replaces a cell phone every 16 months, not because the cell phone is old, but because it is oldish." And yet? "Homelessness, which had fallen in recent years, may rebound as people lose their jobs and their houses. For the first time this month, the number of people on food stamps will exceed the 30 million mark."

Right after the go-go, me-me, buy-buy '80s came the bling-bling '90s and Marc Jacobs-handbag early aughts. The nation is coming down from a long spending high, and the purchases we made while we were all cranked up aren't looking so smart. Now, writes Quindlen:

Hard times offer the opportunity to ask hard questions, and one of them is the one my friend asked, staring at sweaters and shoes: why did we buy all this stuff? […] Because things are dire, many people have become hesitant to spend money on trifles. And in the process they began to realize that it's all trifles. Here I go, stating the obvious: stuff does not bring salvation. But if it's so obvious, how come for so long people have not realized it?"

Do we blame TV? Do we blame magazines? Do we blame celebrity culture and the desire to imitate their posh lifestyles? Quindlen says, "My father will be happy to tell you about the excitement of getting an orange in his stocking during the Depression. The depression before this one." Can you picture any modern American kid having the same reaction?

Stuff Is Not Salvation [Newsweek]

Earlier: Do You Own Your Stuff Or Does Your Stuff Own You?

[Image via Material World, by Peter Menzel]

I love cardigans. Love them! Sometimes I shy away from yellow because I'm not sure it can be worn with black without being all bumble-bee-ish. But this works! And it want it.
Featherweight merino sweater, $88; abstract rose-print dress, $165.

Sometimes a girl in a tie is too "Hi, my name is Marcy, may I take your order?" But this is just added interest. And! The tights! Unexpected color, so chic.
Boatneck city tee, $35; felted wool mini, $98.

Another cardigan. But with rust-colored corduroys, and not in a third grade way.
Lydia blouse, $88; stretch vintage matchstick cord, $$79.50; Serengeti midheels, $175.

Pout! This is how I want to dress. Like I am a pulled-together adult woman with a job. Instead, I lean towards muumuus and track pants. I just decided, this very minute, that I need a blouse.
Isabel blouse, $88; seaside wave locket, $55; serge pencil skirt, $128.

Okay, never mind. This is how I want to dress. Casual elegance. Easy sophistication. Half uptown, half downtown. Haha, who am I kidding? I like kitsch and platforms and drama. But a girl can dream…
Sequined chiffon-ruffled cardigan, $110; slim stretch shirt, $59.50; distressed vintage slim jean, $135.

Gorgeous! Note to self: Play with tones and textures, pair shiny with nubby/matte. Covet those dotty little heels.
Wool-cashmere shawl-collar cardigan, $145; cotton-silk lawn twisted-placket shirt, $68; trixie heels, $248; sharkskin skirt, $165.

Another tie. I think we can agree that Avril Lavigne does not own this look, that we can take it back. Am I wrong? I just think this looks sharp. I love an ensemble with a little wink, a little something that makes it different and unique. But even without the shirt and tie, this dress is great: Versatile and plain old cute.
Dream Silvie dress, $138.

You guys, I don't even like kids. Not really, anyway. I mean I used to, but then I spent so many years babysitting I got kind of burned out. But this! This is just… Sigh.

Gah. My ovaries!

Oh! Well! Hello there! I'd like to place an order for delivery…

[J. Crew]

We'll be adding up all of the totals from all of the major September mags (Elle, Vogue, Bazaar, Lucky, Glamour, Marie Claire, W, and Allure) into one whopping sum. (So far, Elle's Total Shit: $1,562,100 and Vogue's Total Shit: $957,687.)

The reader who can predict the final total dollar amount — without going over — will win a $200 donation to the charity of her or his choice. You may submit your guesses in the comments, and you have until 12 noon tomorrow, EDT.

Good luck, and remember: Mink. Dipped in gold.

Earlier: September Smackdown: Elle Vs. Vogue

A new website called "How I Spent My Stimulus" is devoted to people posting pictures and stories about how they spent the free government dough. A book, based on the entries received, is to come, naturally.

Michael, from Los Angeles, spent his check on a nice little vacation to a communist country (Vietnam). Apparently the spending of American dollars in communist countries was pretty popular this year.

There were also a lot of people who wisely spent their checks on bills, school tuition, tire alignment, and other things they were in need of. One woman gave her stimulus check to her granddaughter to help the poor kid start paying back all the debt the government has acquired by borrowing money from China (and using it for stimulus checks). Fun!

Of course, there were also plenty of dumb people who spent their stimulus checks on frivolous things like luxury goods and clothes (including me, sorry mom!). One guy bought a fucking sailboat. Another guy spent his check on a pair of $330 Prada sunglasses (from the Sunglass Hut, no less). Money well spent?

You decide.

Eric, an earnest guy in Seattle, decided to spend his check on "services" because he heard they would stimulate the economy better than just buying things. He went to go see Cirque de Soleil: Corteo with his family. Do you think he enjoyed it?

Hm.

What did you all spend your stimulus check on? Did you even get it? (Many on the Jezebel staff have not! Give these women their checks, government, there is wine to be bought!) Sadie spent hers on getting someone to clean her kitchen "really, really well." I was planning on saving mine but decided to "invest" (haha) it in some adult clothes (a Helmut Lang blazer on sale and some black pumps by Marc Jacobs). Now all I need an adult situation to wear them in!

[How I Spent My Stimulus]

Red Bull, for instance, is "an extreme-sports beverage, a bar mixer, a midday pick-me-up, a workout booster, depending on whom you ask," says Miller. But where things get sticky — take note, ladies of Sex And The City — is not when you express yourself through your possessions. But when you let your possessions speak for you. Miller writes:

It's all too easy for people, under the influence of the siren songs of marketing (or murketing), to drift into a situation in which they use commodities "not to reflect who they are, but to construct who they are. Not to reflect a self, but to build a self."

I'll admit that this part touched a nerve. I am a collector and a maximalist, or what my mother prefers to call a "pack rat" and someone who "loves junk." (That's a portion of my bookcase, above.) I adore bags. I used to collect typewriters and lunchboxes. Sometimes I scrapbook. I save magazines, I have a stormtrooper helmet and a Bruce Lee action figure. I like street signs and Hello Kitty boomboxes; platform shoes and weird cameras. I have lots of stationery, rubber stamps, books, postcards, CDs, DVDs, costume jewelry and I find it really really really hard to throw away old t-shirts, especially if they are or were well-loved.

Do I need all this stuff? Is this stuff me? That's debatable. I have each item because I enjoy it. It's funny, meaningful, cool or associated with a memory. Would I be the same girl if I lived in an uncluttered, streamlined, minimalist apartment? Is my "stuff" actually a sign of an emotional problem? A new study by Blair Kidwell, David M. Hardesty and Terry L. Childers from the University of Kentucky says: "People with highly developed emotional sensibilities are better at making product choices." For instance: "A person can know a lot about nutrition and know what foods are not healthy, but can still make poor decisions when unable to recognize, reason, and solve problems based on emotional patterns." But when I think about my "stuff" I just think that yeah, it's cluttered, but I like it. A blank wall is boring and makes me a wee anxious. But I do wonder: Do interesting people have interesting things? Or does having interesting things make you interesting? And if not — surely there are interesting monks, for instance — why do we think possessions make a personality?

We Are What We Buy [Salon]
Emotional Intelligence Helps Make Better Product Choices [Science Daily]

Earlier: Does The Average Woman Really Have 21 Handbags?

According to author Susan Gregory Thomas, whose new book is titled Buy Buy Baby, young children are learning how to recognize the main character of TV shows at a very young age, preparing them to yearn for all the toys and products being sold with that character's face on them.

These characters are brands, so what we have is the creation of the very youngest consumers in the history of the United States. That's the thesis of the book. Under the auspices of education value and development, there is a very broadly gauged marketing effort being leveled at infants and toddlers.

There's no doubt that teenage girls, those consummate consumers, will love this. But one of the beautiful things about shopping online is that you can do it in the privacy of your own home, without anyone judging your choices. Polyvore is a chance for all of your online "friends" to tell you how much they hate your taste in clothes, what a label-whore you are and how you probably shouldn't be wearing skirts so short. Or maybe that's just negative thinking. Anyway, all this "girls love putting together outfits!" stuff reminds us: We totally had Fashion Plates when we were little. Instead of creating "fashionable" outfits, we felt like the point was to create an ensemble as hideous as is possible when working with colored pencils. Wait, we changed our minds: Polyvore is awesome! We're going to make a disgusting "set" right now.

Polyvore To Tempt Fashionistas To Create, Then Spend [TechCrunch]