An Amusement Park of Consumerism

Today, I walked into Target.

Shocking, right?

Not really.

But, I did leave Target with only what I needed to purchase upon walking in.

Whoa.

I know, hypothetical reader. You may need to read that a couple more times to let it sink in. Don't worry, I'll wait.

...

Ready? Okay.

And as I was waiting in the 10 items or less line (Granted it wasn't much of a wait, as it was me and some woman who I'm fairly certain was purchasing ten large bags of cat food.), it occurred to me:

Why is Target just so enticing? What is it that causes it to act as the cheap crack of the retail universe?

And then it hit me.

Target is like Disney. It's the Disney of consumerism.

Target is an amusement park of consumerism.

Think about it, the bright colors, the slightly subconscious piped in music, the confusing mazes of other similarly colorful things distracting other clumps of dazed people much like yourself. It just sucks you in.

And even the boring isles are exciting. Don't want to go buy boring toilet paper? No problem, you have to pass by all the colorful, nice smelling rows of air freshener to get there, because they are, inexplicably, in the same aisle. So why not pick some up at the same time? It's not like you need air freshener, after all, you don't live directly on top of a garbage dump full of mackerel. But hey, it might be a nice touch to some dinner party you're planning for the second of never if you happen to remember to dig it out from behind the cobwebs of wherever it was when I took it out of the bag.

Sucked in.

And then there's the really boring things. Garden supplies. No one comes to Target just to buy dirt. Well, that might be your initial intent, but in order to get there you have to pass...the candy section. Oh yeah, that's right. And it's sitting right there in all its sugary glory. Aisles and aisles of colorful, enticing, usually on some sort of massive we-don't-want-to-look-at-this-anymore type of sale. And you know you're trying to lose weight, and you know you have to wear a bathing suit to that party in a month. Your brain is telling you all of this. And then it engages. Target Hypnosis. You see the candy. You want the candy. You walk to the candy. You take the candy. You buy the candy. You take the candy home. You stare at the candy. You eat the candy. And it tastes good.

Sucked in.

Now, imagine for a second how different Target would be if, instead of exciting, dynamic red, the walls and accents were all beige. How boring. No alluring pictures of too-attractive people having way too much fun doing decidedly vague tasks. Just beige.

But then, who would go?