So many choices…

I may be one of the last folks in this country who can make this statement, but I have a neighborhood pharmacy.

No, I don’t go there all the time.

Although Gary Drug is a lot closer than one of the, oh, three-hundred-seventy-four CVS’s within walking distance, Gary isn’t on my usual path. So I’m more likely to be passing a CVS on my day to day rounds. So I do stop and shop there.

But I do prefer Gary Drug.

It’s one of those great little local stores where you can get your apothecary, cosmeticky stuff, Dr. Scholl’s whatever, stationery essentials (like little spiral notebooks and manila envelopes), papers and magazines, candy bars… Plus they send and receive faxes for you. Plus the people who work there are incredibly helpful and friendly. An altogether wonderful little drug store. If they had room for a soda fountain with a couple of swirl-around chrome and leatherette stools, it’d be perfect. (Also, while they do sell mini-packs of Chiclets, they don’t have a gumball machine.)

But one of the absolute best things about it is that, since it’s about 200 square feet in size, there’s a relatively limited number of choices you have to make when it comes to toothpaste and cough syrup. Not that there are no choices to be made. Given the size of the store, it has incredible variety - breadth and depth. (It helps that the shelves go all the way to the ceiling, and the one and only aisle is about 18-inches wide.) So you do get to pick and choose among the cough-cold-stuffy nose-scratching throat-watery eyes variety of cold elixirs.

It’s just that the choice is not anywhere near as overwhelming as it is in CVS. Not to mention that the Gary Drug folks are right there at your elbow to help you work through the decision process.

But at CVS, with those rows upon rows of choice:

Choice = (all possible combinations) x (multiple delivery modes x multiple brands)

Pill. Capsule. Liquid. Spray.

Delsym. Robitussin. NyQuil. DayQuil. TheraFlu. Zi-Cam.

They’re all pretty much the same, aren’t they?  (Other than Zi-Cam, which has its own little weirdness thing going for it.)

Anyway: Oy!

At least most (although not all) of the cold medicine choices are relevant to your particular condition: sneezing? wheezing? hacking? spitting? stuffed? runny?

Of course, you may not be able to find your particular symptom relievers in combo.

Still, the choices seem more meaningful than some of those you get when it comes to toothpaste:

Mint? Gel? Cream? Mixed-striped mint gel/white cream? With or without baking soda? Standard squeeze tube? Upright harder-sided mustard-container type?

Crest.  Gleem. Arm and Hammer. Sensodyne. Tom’s of Maine (when I’m feeling virtuous).

Alas, I haven’t seen Bucky Beaver’s Ipana in years.

Actually, strike that “alas”. Good that there’s one less brand choice to worry about.

Still, all those choices.

For some reason, I never remember from toothpaste purchase to toothpaste purchase whether I like the gel.  Let alone whether I want or need tartar control or breath freshening.

Apparently, I’m not alone.

There was an article in the Wall Street Journal the other day – aptly titled “Whitens, Brightens and Confuses” on how annoying, how bewildering, some people find shopping for toothpaste has become.

An explosion of specialized pastes and gels brag about their powers to whiten teeth, reduce plaque, curb sensitivity and fight gingivitis, sometimes all at the same time. Add in all the flavors and sizes, plus ever-rising prices, and the simple errand turns into sensory overload.

Or is it Sensodyne overload?

Not that I’ve noticed, but manufacturers have realized that they’ve been overwhelming us, and are reining in the urge to keep adding to the dizzying array of toothpaste choices.

Last year, 69 new toothpastes hit store shelves, down from 102 in 2007, according to market-research firm Mintel International Group.

Procter & Gamble Co., in fact, has decided that less, if notexactly more, is better. They’re de-introducing some of their variations on a “Look, Ma, no cavities” theme.

Thanks to P&G and other toothpaste makers there are currently only “352 distinct types or sizes of toothpaste” retailed in the U.S.  Down from 412 just three years ago.

Oh, what a relief it is!