Plastic love: how containers induce possessiveness
It's hard to let go when the packaging is sooo good
As an anthropologist, I am trained to spotlight other people and their theories. This time I am switching the lens towards myself — the good, the bad, and the messy. I’m an immigrant who flits between the imagined nowhere lands of Manila and Zuid Holland with only the detritus of stuff that marks my past, present, and future. This is the account of the lands that live only in my mind. I publish fortnightly on Tuesdays.
Dutch Journal 24-001
I appreciate fully recyclable packaging like cartons for foodstuffs. Sometimes, these cheap generic ‘seven grains for breakfast,’
require a sturdy case for everyday shelf access. Just like your nonna, I repurpose beautiful plastic containers. It is rare to find good sturdy plastic that you want to love. Part of my collection obsession has to do with the material of the object. Plastic is one of the rare materials I keep. More specifically, Country Time Lemonade containers fit the bill.
I finally had some use for them today.
Apparently, in the mid-2000s, pining for something familiar, I bought several of these when I first arrived in the Lowlands. What I did not know, until today, I had eight of them. Eight!
I thought I only had four. (Apparently, I could only see four at my eye level.)
I had a painful realisation that I had to let go of some of them. For anyone who has collected, this is a bodily pain gnawing in the gut and chest area. It feels like a deep sorrow and terrifying grief in the pit of your stomach akin to fear.
It is the impending fear of loss and separation.
I am aching over these plastic containers.
During the ’90s, when I had yet to travel, citrus fruits graced our homes only during the special holidays. Apples, oranges, and lemons were New Year fares that mimicked the roundness of coins and wealth. Fed on American TV, I had always wondered what lemons and road stand lemonade tasted like.
Country Time Lemonade. This was it. Very tart. On ice, it was glorious, as only a kid’s palate could be. The pink colour was an attractive bonus.
We, of course, had our Philippine Lemon called kalamansi, except they were marble-sized and no human adult wants to squeeze a dozen, at least, to generate a decent-tasting pitcher. Nope, there was no local contraption invented to squeeze this. This fruit is primarily used as a dipping sauce and is too expensive to make into a juice.
Lemons were the holy grail of fruit juice for me, next to oranges.
In Europe, we have Spain and Italy to thank for cheap lemons all year round. Since then I have weaned off Country Time.
I started mixing the two but all I could taste was chemical powder.
I had a sad realisation that my childhood memory would remain just that. A fond lie. This is not the first nor the last.
Kraft Heinz’s Country Time Lemonade and Kool-Aid powdered juice mix, continue to use this R2D2 replica. (I hope that they will continue to do so for the foreseeable future.) It dawned on me that my desire was due to its rotundness, just like Waymo. It was cute and friendly.
Just a few more degrees, Waymo looks like the resealable cap that doubles as a measuring cup! Not only that, you can count on these heavy jars to perform forever. Thanks to its sturdy High-Density Polyethylene (HDPE) body, these jars are spill-proof, remarkably light, and nice to the touch. It even has a wedge so you could easily open the screw top lid. My only complaint is the narrow opening which makes cleaning and drying difficult but it was meant to control the powder flow. If you obsess over the Tide laundry detergent jug like I do, this is the same.
What a design marvel for a powdered juice mix. Please don’t ever change.
No wonder I felt sad recycling them. It is like throwing out good Tupperware.
They don’t make them like they used to.
Mari Kondo was right (about one thing, at least).
I selected four and hugged the bundle goodbye. Perhaps, I am waking up to the fact that I will never use these jars for rice, sugar, and other foodstuff for the mythical camping trip. We don’t even own a car or an RV.
I had just lovingly washed them. Now it will go in the way of the deep recycling bin in the neighbourhood.
D threw them out and I did not glance back.
I replaced the two empty ones in my pantry.
Finally, I can feel my pantry breathe.
My newsletter is inspired by Elizabeth Chin’s My Life with Things. A wonderful autobiography of her material woes!
