In brief
As we navigate through the loss of beloved products, from aftershaves to hair treatments, we come to terms with the emotional ties and the frenzied quest to find replacements or save the last remnants of cherished items.
The Wirecutter editor Alexander Aciman has been scouring eBay for bottles of a discontinued lavender-scented aftershave from Crabtree & Evelyn, a nostalgic relic of his father's favorites in the 1990s. “I mainly try to find it so as not to lose the scent and preserve some kind of access to it,” he shared with my colleague, Steven Kurutz. Kurutz's story, "When They Stop Selling Your Favorite Thing," has lingered on my mind. I empathize deeply with those passionate collectors he highlighted: the enthusiastic woman comparing her passion for Pantene Nutrient Blends Miracle Moisture Boost Rose Water Petal Soft Hair Treatment — last seen in 2023 — to an addiction, and the devoted fans who hoard Tab cola in their basements, serving as resale-site researchers in search of what's gone.Personally, every style of underwear I once adored has vanished, leading to protracted quests for the last pairs hidden away in stockrooms through charm and persuasion. In a previous desperate moment, I penned heartfelt notes to the manufacturer of a discontinued lip balm, resulting in the company graciously sending me the final remnants of the product from their lab. Companies often discontinue products for valid reasons, typically due to lack of popularity, yet it feels like a personal loss when our cherished items disappear. This sentiment, akin to betrayal, emerges from the loyalty we exhibit toward a specific hand soap or wool crew socks, only to find our devotion met with inconvenience or rudeness. The thought of companies meddling with our meticulously crafted skincare rituals feels outrageous. When we curate our daily routines with specific makeup, moisturizers, or underwear styles, these preferences provide a comforting sense of stability amidst the chaos of choices. We anticipate that we will evolve before these beloved products do. However, I previously wrote about the importance of loosening our grip on possessions and embracing the inevitability of loss. The thrill of hunting for discontinued items can coexist with the acceptance that the quest may lead to a dead-end. Some friends invest in multiples of their favorites, prepared for whenever they become obsolete. While I understand this strategy, it seems excessive. Currently, I have a preferred style of underwear sufficient for one laundry cycle, and I accept that when it eventually gets discontinued — as my experience suggests will happen soon — I will delve into the internet for replacements while gracefully transitioning to whatever is next.
