Columbia House: 11 Albums For A Dollar

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Columbia House was how I started my record collection. 11 albums for just one dollar! What a bargain, until you forgot to send in the postcard saying you didn’t want the automatic shipment and wound up with an Engelbert Humperdinck album the next month. Not that there’s anything wrong with him, just not exactly a 17-year-old’s style.

That was the Columbia House magic and the Columbia House trap. The club pulled you in with a ridiculous opening deal, then made its money when you bought more albums at regular club prices, or when you forgot to decline the monthly selection.

Columbia House started as the Columbia Record Club in 1955 and became huge through mail-order records, tapes, and later CDs. The music club side shut down in 2009, after BMG bought and folded it into its own operation. The company kept going for a while as a DVD/Blu-ray club, but its parent filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy in 2015, after years of declining revenue and a music world that had moved to downloads and streaming.

Looking back, Columbia House was part bargain, part lesson in fine print, and part rite of passage. For a lot of us, it was the first time the mailman delivered music we actually wanted — and sometimes music we absolutely did not.

Our L’eggs Fit Your Legs

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I remember my mom coming home from the grocery store, excited that they had just started selling pantyhose right there in the supermarket. Now, a lot of boys my age could have cared less, but even as a kid, I immediately saw the genius in this.

Before L’eggs, pantyhose usually meant a trip to a department store or some other clothing section. Then suddenly they were sitting there in the grocery store, packed in those unforgettable plastic eggs, right where moms were already shopping for milk, bread, coffee, and cereal. It was one of those simple ideas that made you wonder, “Why didn’t somebody do this sooner?”

And the display was just as smart as the product. Those big spinning racks of egg-shaped containers practically begged you to look at them. Even if you didn’t know much about pantyhose, you remembered the packaging. That was the genius of L’eggs. They didn’t just sell pantyhose, they turned it into an everyday grocery-store item.

Of course, once the pantyhose were out, those plastic eggs often got a second life around the house. Storage, toys, crafts, Easter decorations, you name it. Back then, nothing that useful-looking got thrown away right away.

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