Cinnabon Craze

Awhile ago I wrote a post on the kale frenzy. Now I’m reporting on the Cinnabon craze. You know, that sweet confection that lures you into the shop on the concourse when you’re headed to your plane. I can’t resist Cinnabons, even though they pack on more calories than I burn off en route to my flight. This despite the fact that my gate is always at the far end of the walkway.

I can’t explain the allure of the Cinnabon. Maybe it’s the swirly intermingling of cinnamon and icing, or that soft, yeasty mouthful you get. Since I haven’t been flying much now that I’m retired, I had almost forgotten about my guilty pleasure. That was, until I read in Ad Age about products entering into licensing arrangements with the makers of this jewel. Apparently, lip balm and the Cinnapretzel movie-theater snack didn’t do well, but Air Wick and Pinnacle vodka still have projects in the oven.

The Ad Age article got me thinking about what products for retirees would be improved via a marriage with Cinnabon. My problem was not coming up with ideas. It was weeding out the weaker ones and focusing on the sure winners. I wouldn’t want mine to land on the reject heap with the lip balm and Cinnapretzel.

The first product I’ll produce is Cinnabon Odor Eaters. One of the worst offenses of older folks is smelly feet. Imagine if they gave off that delightful Cinnabon aroma instead! And the farther you walk, the stronger the smell. This will be especially useful to those traveling by air and having gate assignments like B19 and C22. It will also provide motivation to get more exercise.

Speaking of which, a companion product will be the Cinnabon treadmill roller. There’s a psychological aspect to this, too, because it will remind you of what hooked you on Cinnabons to begin with. It simulates running down the concourse to catch your flight. The longer you stay on the machine, the more realistic it is. Program in a hypothetical but realistic gate number—26 say—and the mat will keep on rolling (and emitting that wonderful scent) until you’ve run as much as you would have in the airport.

An incentive to keep those pounds off is the Cinnabon digital scale. In addition to announcing your weight when you step on this electronic device, it will give off a burst of that mouth-watering smell. If you program it properly, the more you’ve lost, the stronger the explosion. As you get closer to your target weight, you’ll get a staccato of bursts. This will be a true test of your willpower.

The new product that will be most of interest to retirees is my Cinnabon Velcro. Each time you unhook the pieces, you’ll get a whiff of Cinnabon. My neighbors will find me sitting on my porch steps, pulling and reattaching, tongue hanging out of my mouth. They’ll know I’m there before they even see (or smell) me. The telltale “rip, smoosh, rip, smoosh” will give me away.

Two items that will motivate me to clean more often are Cinnabon Windex and Cinnabon Pledge. Instead of the boring orange or lemon that those products usually have, mine will smell of cinnamon, iced sugar and freshly baked yeast bread. I’ll have the cleanest windows in the neighborhood. My sinuses will benefit as well, since there won’t be as much dust around the house.

Here’s one for all you cat owners: Cinnabon litter. When Luke (my boy) scratches, the pellets will release that delightful fragrance. The formula will be strong enough to mask that other “delightful fragrance” that announces he’s had his daily constitutional. This will be a much pleasanter alert that his bathroom station needs scooping.

A personal favorite is the Cinnabon mouse pad. The more I roll my mouse over it, the stronger the aroma. I’ll be writing up a storm, but my posts will likely have much more food-related content. It’s a good thing my office is nowhere near the pantry.

Finally, I’m working with the Post Office to develop a Cinnabon postage stamp. We’ll make it the type you have to lick, so you’ll feed two senses and get a double fix. Unfortunately, these stamps will have a “use by” date, so they won’t last forever. Let’s face it: at our age, not much lasts forever anyway.