So what is it about ceramic moose that really get people going? They don’t even have to be ceramic. They can be printed on t-shirts, crafted into copper candleholders, or plush and furry stuffed versions. They can even be smiling unabashed on a paper bag full of licorice flavored “moose dropping” candy. A sure winner.
There is no questioning that moose souvenirs sell. I am personally guilty of purchasing a brushed stainless steel moose key chain with swinging legs and gold-colored antlers on a trip to Minnesota in my youth. Sadly though, when I began driving and actually used the key chain for more than a decoration on my corkboard, the legs promptly fell off.
There is, however, a need of explanation as to why the moose souvenirs sell. In Colorado today the moose population can boast a mere 2,000 members. Putting this into perspective, there are over 305,000 elk in Colorado and even they are rare to see. So what’s with the obsession? How on earth does a set of moose coasters remind you of a trip to Colorado when snow encrusted peaks and aspen trees are far more prevalent?
So why does this even come to mind? Yesterday I was on a photo recon mission, snapping stock shots of the souvenir capitol of Colorado, the 16th Street Mall. This is an easy task. With interesting art and architecture everywhere, the photo ops are far more prevalent than members of the state’s live moose population (and far less than that of its ceramic moose population). This photography task was not so easy in the other neighborhood I visited prior to the 16th Street Mall photo buffet.
The Highlands neighborhood in Denver is divided into 2 parts: Highland Square, which is fancy and boutique-rich; and Tennyson, which is rougher, more artful, and a little scary in places. Naturally, this recon project was in the Tennyson side of the neighborhood.
It really felt like putting lipstick on a pig (sorry prickly GOP, this is an actual expression that existed and was used far before your sexist use of Sara Palin as a vote catcher was put into place. Furthermore, you can’t claim that every time the word “pig” is used, it is in reference to Palin. oh wait, I mean “lipstick,” either way, I suppose.) Which is to say, I was trying to sell the neighborhood as opposed to simply showcasing it in its own fabulousness. I struggled with this a little bit. Do I personally want to send people to a neighborhood that is less than the lipstick I am promising? Perhaps I can craft a look and set of information that is more lip-gloss or lip-balm in its approach. But seriously, the food options are weak, the residential areas between retail districts are crumbling, and it took me two hours to find what might be the cover shot for the project. T’was a bit frustrating. Which is why, in contrast, the energy of the 16th Street Mall on a Saturday afternoon in early September was all the more enticing.
There was the skinny girl walking her skinny dog, the homeless guy shouting insults from atop his worn, red milk crate, that robot guy with the huge afro that was making conversation with confused passers-by, an excellent argument between strangers about the integrity of the two presidential candidates, and much much more.
Of course, if only I had stopped to buy a moose lamp, I could remember the day in its full glory. Alas, I did not and this memory is destined to be dashed into the abyss of forgotten days as the years pass. And that, folks, is why we buy moose souvenirs.
Posted by lortz 
Posted by lortz 
