Direct: My Blue Heaven

Byline: BETH NEGUS VIVEIROS

This issue, we continue our annual look at holiday catalogs. I should stress that this is a highly scientific review of the catalog industry's end-of-2003 output. And by "highly scientific," I, of course, mean not at all scientific.

I received fewer catalogs this year than last, probably because my direct purchases have been limited to select Web sites and catalogs, mainly for clothing, electronics and books. Still, there were some unexpected gems in the bunch, including Tiffany's holiday edition.

Here's a sure way to get any catalog opened by a red-blooded American woman. Put it inside a Tiffany blue envelope. I knew what it was immediately and I knew that I wanted it. My local electric company should try this tactic - it might make me pay my bill a little more promptly.

Orvis' annual "Dog Book" was well served by not being in an envelope. The cover is always a winner, and this year's - an adorable shot of sleepy golden retriever puppies with bows around their necks - was no exception. The photography is always so warm and fuzzy I think they could have a healthy side business helping prospects adopt pooches. Then those prospects would have a reason to become customers.

But while attractive, the covers to Orvis' regular catalogs are nowhere near as compelling. The shots of evergreen wreaths and fall barnyard scenes are attractive but seem static, and don't say much about what is within.

Williams-Sonoma, in my opinion, suffers a similar problem. The catalog always features an attractively photographed kitchen item - like an espresso maker or plate set - on the cover. But the shots have no action, and don't draw the customer inside.

Nonetheless, I found a few items of interest in a recent edition and went online to order. Looking for holiday garland, I searched the word 'holiday' and was presented with a long list of items for everything except garland, including roasting pans. I typed in 'holiday garland' and got no results. Finally, I entered the catalog item number and was told the garland was no longer available. Didn't I just receive this catalog? Rats. I abandoned the entire shopping cart, thinking I'd go back and check again later. As I noted last issue, shopping cart roulette is fun for the entire family! Try it at home! Maybe the customers will come back, maybe they won't. Maybe they'll get blown off Williams-Sonoma's shopping list entirely.

Besides freshening up the look of its covers, the cataloger might also consider perking up its back-cover personalization. Of the four catalogs I received, all had the exact same type, inviting me to visit two local stores. The location that should have been there - a.k.a. the one closest to my home - was nowhere to be found. How about an invite to a sampling event, or notice of when seasonal products will be in store instead?

A catalog new to me this year was West Elm, which I discovered - after prowling around its Web site - is actually part of Williams-Sonoma Inc. With items like long velvet curtains that pool on the floor, funky little votives and pillows festooned with sequins and dry-clean-only fabrics, the catalog could be subtitled "Nice things for people who don't have a 10-month-old child." My current living situation is clearly not the target demo for this feng shui fest, but I like it, if only because the contents look like stuff Vern from "Trading Spaces" would pick for his rooms.

Solutions is another catalog with an interesting product mix. While it offers a lot of very useful items, a subtitle for some of these goods might be "Solutions...for problems you never knew you had." For example, are your holiday guests not entertained enough when they go to the potty? Santa- and snowman-decorated toilet paper comes to the rescue, at the affordable price of $7.50 a roll. If I pay that much for TP, I'll make my guests go down to the gas station at the corner to do their business. No way are they touching the good TP!

And then there's Victorian Trading Co., which offers a lot of neat stuff for the refined individual on your guest list, like tea cozies, crystal telephones, crocheted dust ruffles and brass-handled walking sticks. I think they're stretching the whole Victorian theme a bit, though. I don't think the ladies of old wore heirloom sunglasses or embroidered fanny packs.

Come to think of it, would ladies of any time wear something called a fanny pack? What a fitting item to...ahem, end on, eh?

BETH NEGUS VIVEIROS (bethdirect@aol.com) is executive editor of Direct.