 I thought about this the other day as I counted the 43 mugs I've accumulated. One has a photo of a Shih Tzu; another is a souvenir from a hotel in Dixville Notch, N.H. There's a red mug with white hearts that I use once a year to serve coffee to my wife, Amy, on Valentine's Day.
Mugs, like books, are difficult to throw away. That's why I still have one, never used, with a photo of Donny and Marie Osmond, a gift for appearing on their TV show in 1998.
A cherished light-blue mug was painted by my daughter Stephanie when she was 9. It says "Happy Father's Day." I don't think the glaze was properly applied, so I use it to hold toothbrushes.
Probably the most common mug theme is anything beginning with "World's Best." Michael Scott gave himself a "World's Best Boss" mug on "The Office," and today NBC will sell you one, with your picture, for $19.95. A company called Zazzle offers a vast assortment of "Best" and "Greatest" mugs including "World's Best Teacher" and "World's Greatest Structural Engineer."
Americans love mugs because they fit our bigger-is-better mindset and are integral to the kitsch market we aggressively support. Plus, who doesn't covet a hefty mug with 18 ounces of coffee, a third of which will be consumed before the rest is cold?
About a month ago I switched to a 7-ounce cup, and I've never enjoyed coffee so much. No more rushing to the microwave to heat, reheat and re-reheat the contents of a massively macho mug. My new cup—a small mug, actually, because it is cylindrical—is an off-white Dansk model that sits stably without a saucer. Like a good fountain pen or the perfect pruning shears, it provides aesthetic satisfaction that goes beyond basic functionality.
Charles Hubbell would have approved. His son Jerry, who now maintains the collection, tells me the Cup Man favored a plain white 7-ounce porcelain cup for his morning brew. When it came to drinkware, his barn runneth over, but his kitchen never did.
(c) Peter Funt. This column originally appeared in The Wall Street Journal.
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