If you’re not familiar with the product, take a moment to familiarize yourself:
Perversely, I’m sold. What might appear to be only be the most mobile blanket yet, has what I believe to be real fashion upside as well. The plush, yet supremely informal tone the snuggie strikes seems simultaneously to disarm pretentions and add a bizarre religious dignity to everyone who wears it. Sitting sanctimoniously with popcorn clutched in hand, grandpa is not just “enjoying a snack,” oddly, he is a Franciscan monk enjoying a snack. Dad is not just “warm from head to toe,” stretched out on the couch after a long day’s work, in his snuggie, he is filled with the divine light of the heavenly father, too. The subscripts join in, as well, supporting this plainly religious undertone: “one size fits all,” it says as Sister Mom and Brother Dad sit down with Hari Krishna pleasure to pray for our one, transcendental oversoul. What better clothes to wear when cloistering yourself against our modern troubles?
The latter half of the ad heralds the snuggie’s alleged fashion versatility. The only thing missing here is a scene at the sports bar where, after the team scores a big touchdown, the guys are all slapping high fives with one another, all fifteen ehtnically diverse buds decked out in their tidy red snuggies. Or, after the campfire sequence, a crew rolling deep in the new camo pattern snuggie, would’ve be concievable. Yet, unlike the pulverizing impending reality of the first section, it is in this social world where the snuggie falls short. The great garment just signals too much holiness to be cavorted about in so lightly. Wearing it out like that just makes you look like an asshole.
The verdict: Buy one snuggie (not two), wear it at home, and await the end times in it cordially.