Apparently, there's some column in some journal out there in the wired world written by Paul Lukas called "Inconspicuous Consumption". I know this because I listen faithfully to Jon Bernhardt's Friday edition of the Breakfast of Champions show on WMBR and he always reads it over the air.

"Inconspicuous Consumption" is, to quote from the source, "about deconstructing the details of consumer culture -- details that are either so weird or obscure that we'd never see them, or so ubiquitous that we've essentially stopped seeing them."

And what strikes me while listening to commentary about Reese Sticks and Men's Chocolate Pocky and Flambé Fanfare and sauerkraut juice, is that there is something hip and appealing about the most ordinary things. Consumerism is a strange melting of desire and attraction and fashion.

And it gets me thinking about the little items in my life that I love. Little gems I cannot simply leave on display, but instead pluck for my very own. Tiny, useless things that bring me arbitrary joy. Sugar cubes, my Gillette Mach3 razor, and these fabulous magnets.

They're so simple. Look Magazine meets Douglas Coupland. The point is not that I could make my own, but that when I browse them on display, I always find one tuned clearly to my heart. Striking distance. A perfect connection. And though I do remember what Coupland wrote in Generation X about confusing shopping with creativity, I can't deny a connection to these little magnetic squares that link to who I am, how I define myself, and what I dream of being.

We all own things that are inherrently us. When we browse in shops we see things that remind us of ourselves or of our friends. Sometimes it's not the shiny, expensive treats, but the toy sharks and squeezie lungs that thrill and excite us, that tell us that someone out there understands the detail of who we are.

Sometimes even consumerism has a magical spin.