When my boyfriend and I go grocery shopping, we play a little game called "You Want That." Except it’s mostly me that wants the stuff. We walk down an aisle, headed toward the checkout, and as we pass the shampoo section, there will be an unusual-looking square bottle with rounded edges. The moment my eyes land on it, and before I can even point it out, he looks at me telepathically and says with a smile, "I know you want that."
"Want what?" I ask, but deep down, I already know exactly what he is talking about. It’s usually something millennial pink or with cool, sexy branding. Shampoo or dumplings, he always spots it before me and knows what’s about to come out of my mouth.
This is the kind of man who grew up with parents who bought enormous bulk shampoo bottles and poured them into smaller bottles labeled "shampoo" with a Sharpie. He has zero idea what brand he used during his entire childhood.
Meanwhile, I've been influenced by the 'what your shampoo bottle says about you' mindset since I was a kid. I've always been susceptible to every cringe-worthy marketing tactic and clever design trick brands use to reel me in. He knows I try to resist, but I'm often still drawn like a moth to a flame. He helps soften the blow by spotting it even before I do. We laugh whenever we identify the obvious "marketability" or "sexiness" of a product that somehow seduces me into thinking it's better than all the rest.
Design isn’t completely unimportant. I’m just trying to break my habit of buying a lip gloss simply because the font spacing makes it look cool. I've been burned a lot by attractive packaging, marketing, and wild testimonials. Now I’m, skeptical and burnt out on brands with overly aggressive, "pick me" energy. Sometimes they are great, but a lot of times they are not.
Lately, when I come across anything that doesn’t have the “pick me” sexy brand energy and hasn't had half its price poured into flashy marketing, I feel like I've scored something truly great. It's like I've outsmarted them: “Um, actually, you picked me.”
That's why today I want to talk about UNSEXY products—the little guys without the marketing budgets, the ones you won’t see on billboards. Maybe they are bigger brands but they still somehow fly under the radar. We live in a time where companies and products are becoming homogenous. Somehow, we have a million brands, but we still feel like we can’t find new ones and don't know where to shop? Where can we find something good, reliable, and honest, even if it’s not the shiniest or sexiest option?
Here’s some examples of what I’m talking about…
Vanicream
A few years ago, before Augustinus Bader was on anyone's radar, a friend who worked for Estee Lauder cleaned out her closet and unloaded some of her extra products on me. I ended up with over $3,000 worth of products and was stunned. La Mer was the height of luxury at the time, and I couldn’t believe I got it for free.
Skincare is an area where I’ve spent a lot of money. I had even considered buying La Mer products at full price because of their “miracle broth” marketing. (Fun fact: I know copywriters who worked there, and they only use Rose Hip oil on their faces. What does that tell you?) Anyway, I was thrilled to have some La Mer on my hands.
The funny thing about getting free stuff is how it truly distorts your ability to review it properly. Mentally, I knew I had a mortgage's worth of lotion, yet I couldn't assess it objectively. I used it liberally, trying to gauge my reaction, but it left me indifferent. It didn't strike me as particularly special or effective; it didn't visibly improve my skin. In fact, a couple items even caused breakouts. But I wasn’t as upset or critical as I would have been if I’d spent my own money.
I told a friend I was a little underwhelmed by La Mer. She got pretty defensive and insisted that the $2,000 she spends annually on it is justified! I suspect the same brain glitch that would lead me to drop $300 on face lotion also makes me convince myself that I absolutely LOVE it, no matter what. Otherwise, it's too painful to accept the loss. Maybe there's a strange sliding scale: the higher the price, the harder it is to admit you’ve wasted money, so you try to talk yourself out of regret. I’ve definitely encountered this with some really expensive items (and life commitments—the typical sunk cost fallacy). However, once I finally admit to myself that I’ve wasted money and accept it, I feel pretty pissed off but ultimately liberated because I don’t have to purchase another expensive bottle.
Every drop of that La Mer is long gone, and I am multiple skincare brand cycles ahead. I dabbled with nicer natural stuff like Marie Veronique (the essential oils broke me out), medical-grade products from my dermatologist (ZO skincare for my melasma didn’t do much), and even spent half a trip in Paris googling “best pharmacy near me” (I do keep Biafine stocked for sunburns).
But everything changed from one embarrassing experience: I spent way too much time in a hot tub and sauna cold plunge situation and ended up with a rash that wouldn’t go away no matter what. I was diagnosed with an “allergy to heat,” and my skin was not happy for months afterward.
I went through a phase where I was insanely sensitive to everything. I had to embrace a newfound bubble boy lifestyle. My lotion now had to be gluten-free, sulfate-free, scent-free—basically joy-free, so minimal it’s practically invisible.
Enter Vanicream.
What could be more uncool than a face lotion whose name is one typo away from sounding like a yeast infection treatment? Despite the awkward name, Vanicream beats most expensive lotions I've tried. I first bought it for my body during my bubble boy phase and when I ran out of other face lotion, I started using it on my face. It worked wonders for my dry winter skin. Recently, I upgraded to the actual face formula—lighter for summer and super hydrating. The price is right! The packaging ain’t. But unless you're recording a "get ready with me" video every morning, that can stay between you and God.
Highly recommend this 100% unsexy stuff. I think the formula is similar to the great face lotions you find in Parisian pharmacies—lightweight, no frills, no crazy scents. It lets your body chemistry do most of the work.
La Botte Gardiane
Speaking of Paris, I used to spend a lot of time there for work. I always told myself I’d visit the giant cemetery and leave a flower on Oscar Wilde’s grave... but most of the time, I found myself diverted to Rue de Charonne, where I'd peek into Isabel Marant, Sessùn, and other boutiques on this perfect shopping street.
It was here that I stumbled upon a tiny shop called La Botte Gardiane, a family-run boot maker known for their incredible craftsmanship. I instantly fell in love with both the shoes and the people who ran the store. On one occasion, I walked in and discovered a pair of boots on sale that just barely fit me.
I didn’t really have the money at the time but I handed them a credit card. They didn’t take credit cards then (they do now), so I ran across the street to an ATM, praying my debit card would cough up 300 euros—the most I’d ever spent on shoes! Luck was on my side and I secured the cash (my financial literacy gods were out partying). Spending that much on boots in 2016 felt insane to me!
This isn’t about advocating reckless spending, but these were absolutely worth it. They are well-crafted, beautiful, and their patina after wear only enhanced their appeal.
Now, you’re probably wondering—how on earth is this unsexy? It’s in Paris, on a beautiful street, a small family-run maker—there’s serious lore behind it!
But here's the twist: their website is labottegardiane.myshopify.com. Any savvy marketer would've suggested they buy a more polished domain. Their sale section is named “Sweet Price.” And while their online setup is functional, they haven’t quite hit the big leagues. It's clear they're a modest-sized brand with a minimalist approach to marketing.
And when my calves got too large for these boots I loved (hey, walking 500 miles in a month will do that), I couldn’t even resell them anywhere. Nobody seemed to care about this brand because it wasn’t the cool, sexy thing everyone talks about. It’s not super flashy or known.
In an era dominated by homogenization, the internet, and the concentration of shopping power through affiliate platforms, I love being able to discover and support brands like this.
JCPenney Shirts
I told you this was an unsexy list. JC Penney is the epitome of unsexy. I honestly didn’t even know it still existed until Leah Reich, friend of Total Rec with impeccable taste, tipped me off about their great summer shirt. So, I made it my mission to make a pilgrimage to Penney's. When I arrived, the parking lot was apocalyptically abandoned and silent.
Amidst the wafting scent of Auntie Anne’s and the clatter from the fake metal cutlery section, I stayed strong, remembering her words:
Here’s the deal with this shirt: It’s not going to be the most stylish thing you ever wear and that’s okay. It is perfect for those scorching hot days (like right now on the East Coast) when you'll be outside or expect to get a bit sweaty, and you're not concerned about looking perfectly chic. You do not want anything sticking to your body. It’s like the practical, unglamorous alternative to those oversized Xirena brand gauzy cotton shirts that usually cost between $160 and $250.
I’m talking about a practical and lightweight, breezy fabric that's comfortable and perfect for a summer day, whether you're running errands or lounging by the pool. It’s ideal for those times when a t-shirt won’t do. There’s something effortlessly cool about someone in a loose shirt and cutoffs, just L I V I N G. That's what this $20 shirt is all about.
Here’s the shirt on me before I head off to the pool. It’s lightweight and comfortable and I love it. It’s nor super on trend because it’s not really boyish or boxy cut - there’s some shaping at the shoulders.
I’ve tried to pull off the menswear short sleeve shirt look this summer, but I tend to end up looking less chic and more lady lumberjack. But JCPenny Bonus - when I was there I did find these cute linen, more menswear style shirts:
They feature a boxy cut that's surprisingly flattering. I sized down for a more fitted look. I was inspired by
's fruit outfits recently so I wore pink because I was craving watermelon:Uncool items could teach you what you actually want.
We all know how marketing can deceive us—I mean, even I fall for it sometimes, despite knowing its tricks and trying not to. The thing is, all these items could probably seem cooler with different packaging and storytelling. Imagine Vanicream in a La Mer bottle or these JC Penney shirts in a luxe photo shoot in Kenya.
Maybe the trick is learning to recognize what you truly want, and separate yourself from what the marketing tells you to want. Unsexy brands can offer quality; they just don’t aggressively persuade you—it’s you genuinely wanting them for what they are. By championing unsexy brands, I’m not saying you need to shun marketing or avoid trendy products—sometimes the fun is in the story, and there's a reason those experiences are enjoyable.
However, as someone who’s been pulled in by branding and marketing many times, I’ve realized that a lot of the time what truly satisfies me aren’t flashy things. Often, the prettiest bottles contain the uttermost crap. I really like items I discover organically, without the influence of marketing campaigns—this shirt from JC Penny won’t win any design awards but brings immense comfort, this lotion I would never buy from an ad soothes my skin, and boots I found while bonding with locals offer an experience you can't replicate in a marketing campaign.
Could an experiment of shopping at places without the lure of brand names maybe help you figure out what you actually like and want? If you were in a store with no brand names anywhere, what would you prioritize? What silhouettes and colors would you choose? Would you prioritize beauty, utility, novelty? There’s no wrong answer, it’s what you like. One of the important lessons I’ve personally taken from buying unsexy is that so often with shopping I’m simply chasing novelty.
The allure of shininess fades eventually, and if I don't figure out what I truly like and want—and learn to appreciate its role in my life—I'll constantly find myself back on the hamster wheel. Buying unsexy items, to me, is a practice in appreciating what genuinely appeals to me and cultivating temperance—learning to slow down. What if I focus on appreciating things for their personal value? It may not be ideal for the marketing and consumption machine, but it suits me a little better.
Tell me, what are your favorite unglamorous or “unsexy” items that you love? How did you find them?
🍒Total Rec
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When i am feeling overwhelmed with life / it is just a random tuesday i like to make myself a bowl of cereal and eat it on the kitchen floor, all lights off. Any time of day is great but especially nonpareil when it’s past midnight and there is just me and my milk and sugar. Just kidding if that sounds completely sociopathic
I love the praise for JCPenney! This isn’t about an un-sexy product but I hope you’ll go with me here… There are all sorts of reasons why people shop at JCPenney/Macy’s/Kohls/etc. if shopping there is out of necessity, those shoppers also deserve to have good products available to them! Lots of Substack chatter about fashion making someone feel better but it can also dignify someone and make them feel like the world cares about them instead of relegating them to an afterthought.
That is my Ted Talk. Sincerely, someone who grew up shopping at the mall and on sale but always wanted the new, full price stuff at Limited Too ✌️