Korean glaze

Upon arriving Seoul, I have indulged myself with a total of three Krispy Kreme Original Glazed doughnuts, two of which have been given to me free of charge. Apparently, in an effort to copy all things American, the Krispy Kremes here have a red circular light that when turned on indicates that any passerby may come in and enjoy one free doughnut straight off the oil and confectionary conveyer belt. This red light also appears in Krispy Kreme doughnut shops all across the United States?

With each bite of these delectable delights from heaven, I've been reminded of home. Reminded of the time our marching band sold them by the dozen for fund-raising. Reminded of the time I bought a box for myself and made myself sick. Reminded of the time my mom used to take me to the store after my SAT-prep class for a post-study doughnut. Despite the once sick-spell, these doughnuts have come to symbolize all that is good in life and the ultimate symbol of self-denial; surely something this good can't be THAT bad for you.

And so one orgasmic bite after another, I long for the days that I drove around Coppell, Texas in my royal blue Toyota Cressida and partook in my daily afternoon nap with Oprah. Nevermind that the Krispy Kreme I most recently frequented was in the basement floor of an upscale department store. None of these Prada/Chanel/Burberry-clad Koreans can distract me from my nostalgic journey across the Pacific. Proust had his madeleines. I've got the ORIGINAL GLAZED!

It wasn't until I was standing in the subway looking up at an ad for Krispy Kreme that I realized something was really off about these magical doughnuts in Korea. This ad featured four young Korean twenty-something (maybe thirty-something) females sitting around a box of Krispy Kremes a la Sex and the City. Nothing would have made me happier to see an ad for Krispy Kremes with four attractive young ladies eating away their man troubles. Or perhaps a late-night munchies run? Carrie & Co. would have been so proud.

But instead, not one woman had the doughnut anywhere near her mouth. Not...one... One of them with just a tad more plump arms (not that there is ANYTHING wrong with that--but perhaps a calculated casting decision done by the ad agency?) was holding the doughnut in one hand and appeared to bring it up to her mouth, while the other women just sat around laughing. Laughing as if the thought of eating one doughnut was absolutely preposterous. No wonder the one woman with the doughnut in hand looked hesitant and not quite as exuberant as the other three. They were probably making fun of her!

Why won't these women eat the doughnuts? It's not a beer ad. They are completely able to bring the doughnuts to their mouths and really feel the fat in their bodies congeal into extra pounds. But no. This ad, the product of psychological conditioning at its best, was made simply to associate good times with doughnut. Doughnut + people ( - consumption) = good times. And true to form, I've once again become disappointed with all things Korean.

These doughnuts, the source of goodness in my life, have become vehicles for commercial globalization, thereby sacrificing their luscious flavor and post-consumptive consequences. No one should be wearing Prada with a Krispy Kreme. Just a Cressida. And perhaps a shoulder to cry on.