When I was a very young, a Bloomingdale’s gift box sat atop my parent’s closet, the kind of glossy, rigid box that would fit a sweater, most likely gifted at Christmas some years before. Inside were important documents—birth certificates, some black and white photos, and other keepsakes. But you knew it was that box because of the “bloomingtype” on it. It was only taken down every so often and precious in its own way.
But I always wondered why that box. And, looking back, the answer is as simple—or seemingly simple—as the Bloomingdale’s logo itself. It was too special to just throw away like any other box because the box itself had meaning.
