DOPP KIT SUPERSTAR: Are there any words or phrases you've been saying your whole life but you never really knew how to spell 'em or what they meant?
Dopp kit. What the hell is a dopp kit? I never really knew. My dad always called the man-purse he traveled with a dopp kit. Actually, before I decided to write this blog entry, before I did some Googling, I wasn't sure if he had been saying "dob kit" or "dab kit" or "dop kit" or even "dopkit." I really had no idea.
Turns out, thanks to Google (hmmm...capital G, I'm always giving thanks to Him or Her...maybe I have found religion) I discovered it is indeed "dopp kit," and that the etymology is readily available for the curious.
Anyway, what I really wanted to write about: I've finally found a great dopp kit. After years of traveling with a cavernous, one-compartment monster -- one that basically looked exactly like the one my dad had, a common theme across many of my wardrobe and toiletry items -- it finally started coming apart at the seams, literally, and I ventured out to replace it.
What I found was an intricately zippered, highly compartmentalized, over-priced superstar of a toiletry kit, handsomely adorned with that reassuring little Swiss Army logo. It's inelegantly named "The Victorinox Hanging Toiletry Kit," and you can check it out here. As any ardent lover says of his new paramour, the photo simply doesn't do her justice.
I've been using this UberDopp, as I call it, for about a month now, and not only does it hold more stuff more effectively than my old one, it also packs down smaller. I was originally pretty leery of the price -- I mean, c'mon, for the $55 I spent on this thing I could have had another sushi dinner -- but after a month of blissful use, I have to say it's been well worth the money. (Photo credit: Casey. Art direction: Me.)
10.19.2005
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19 comments:
Can't believe it has taken you so long to catch on the these "new fangled" dopp kits. Although your dad still prefers the old fashioned ones, I think the new styes are so much easier to deal with. And, by the way, yours does look particularly elegant!:)
I'll have to pipe up here and say that I have the same one, AND I found it, loved it, and preached about it FIRST. I'll be the first to admit that Scott ususally informs me of his new favorite-and-why-it's-best gadget, but in this instance, it's mine!
It was that "I can't believe I'm f**cking spending this much on this dumb thing."
And it's the best thing on the planet.
I would also note, that my briefcase from Swiss Army is absolutely perfect. It was built for me. Has an ipod sleeve, a digital camera sleeve, etc.
Casey, it was I who actually suggested to Mom and Dad that they have a third child, so anything you come up with is actually me coming up with it. Never forget that.
Trisha, my folks may have handled the physical elements, but I was the intellectual force behind his creation. Slice and dice it any way you want, but it all comes back to the fact that I invented Casey, and so he should live the rest of his days in my debt.
Hmmm. Are you saying that your suggestion to you parents to have Casey is the same as if you asked for a puppy for Christmas and your parents put a cute little fluffy labradoodle under the tree for you?
If that is the case, when "Poochie the Pup" comes up with a dead rabbit and thinks that it is the neatest thing...ever, would you be the one to hold responsible?
Casey's M.I.L.
ah, you have succumb to the allure of the organized toiletry system! it seems only yesterday on that fateful trip from talkeetnah, alaska that you scoffed at my exquisite aluminum "tackle box" o' soups and sauces. as a frequent traveler, i'm sure you can agree that you can't put too high a price on containing the comforts of your own regime de toilette.
Paula, you're right. I'll never forget the tackle box. It was one of my earliest indications that there was more to you than just a pretty face and an agreeable smile. You are a bonfire of organization burning beneath a veneer of laissez-faire nonchalance. And yes, I have joined your team. Gone are my days of discombobulated deshabille!
Diane, are you comparing Casey to a dog?
Let's call a spade a spade. I was an oops. You had nothing to do with it. No one meant for me to happen.
But I'm here...
... And I had the tacklebox first.
Guess I had better weigh in here, and the fact is that Casey was always wanted, he just wasn't planned for, and by the way, Scott, you had absolutely nothing to do with it, although you and Eric were both delighted at first sight of Casey when you picked me up at the hospital. You were just stunned that he wasn't any bigger than a football.
Mom, that's all fine and good, but I'm sticking to my version of reality: I created Casey.
Scott,
If, in some plane of existance, by some carmic fluke, you are in any way responsible for the creation of Casey, I thank you.
Roma,
Think of it this way, if Scott wasn't really really proud of, what he believes, is his part in Casey's creation, he wouldn't claim it. Who knows how these things work.
Casey,
You found it first.
(I think dogs are dope. :))
Would that the world saw me through your eyes, Trisha!
I surrender.
It was Scott who can take credit for my existence, sort of...
It was Scott who wished for someone smarter, more handsome, more musically inclined, first to choose the coolest dopp kit, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound, and so on...
Ladies and Gentlemen, his wish was granted.
You go Casey!
Hey wait a minute...I think I had a lot to do with THE Casey you all know and love...he likes to watch the weather (secretly,) he is quite the camera fan and picture taking ace and don't forget that he DOESN'T have a nose ring beacuse of me!
trisha - i second the motion! how can you not be turned on by a guy who can appreciate a dopp kit.... and take credit for his brother's existance.
For thirty years I've been refering to these things as "Dock" kits. I picked up the term from my father, a former navy guy, and thought this was the kit you took when you docked. Reading Esquire the other day I thought it was a misprint to see Dopp kit. Googled it just to make sure and your blog came up. Glad someone else was as confused as I. I can't believe my dad let me mispronounce it all these years.
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