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Chocolove
Originally uploaded by cknlomein

Packaging matters to me.  A lot. 

Unique touches and good design sway me greatly in my purchasing choices – I will be far more likely to spend a little more cash if a product is thoughtfully constructed.  Yes, I’m a sucker like that.

Here are 2 swell examples of unexpected packaging that made me sublimely happy this week:

~  A silk black strappy tank top from Talla (a birthday present from my mom ) had a nice size-card attached to it by a white silk cord that told me this:

‘May you have enough happiness
to make you sweet, enough trials
to make you strong, enough sorrow
to keep you human and enough hope
to make you happy.’

~  A dark, dark Chocolove bar flavored with hot chilies and sweet cherries was housed in a wrapper that brought us the voice of Oscar Wilde, quoting his poem In the Gold Room:  a Harmony – full excerpt after the jump:

Her ivory hands on the ivory keys
Strayed in a fitful fantasy.
Like the silver gleam when the poplar trees
Rustle their pale leaves listlessly,
Or the drifting foam of a restless sea
When the waves show their teeth in the flying breeze…

I like it when my purchases speak to me, thank me, befriend me and joke with me.  That’s why I’m also a huge MOO cards fan, Threadless lover and Jones Soda junkie.  Those brands love me; they tell me so regularly and that makes me want to give them part of my paycheck   There’s a reason they call them Lovemarks!

And now for the rest of that poem:

Her ivory hands on the ivory keys
Strayed in a fitful fantasy.
Like the silver gleam when the poplar trees
Rustle their pale leaves listlessly,
Or the drifting foam of a restless sea
When the waves show their teeth in the flying breeze…

Her gold hair fell on the wall of gold
Like the delicate gossamer tangles spun
On the burnished disk of the marigold,
Or the sunflower turning to meet the sun
When the gloom of the dark blue night is done,
And the spear of the lily is aureoled.

And her sweet red lips on these lips of mine
Burned like the ruby fire set
In the swinging lamp of a crimson shrine,
Or the bleeding wounds of the pomegranate,
Or the heart of the lotus drenched and wet
With the spilt-out blood of the rose-red wine.