The curious thing about "mom and pop's" corner sweet shops is just how few there are left. They're almost as rare as candy lipsticks. Without meaning to be mind-numbingly pedantic, "corner shops" need not, of course, be situated on the corner. They should, though, be independently run, have a chirpy tinkle bell over the door, the odd cobweb and, if at all possible, a tantalising jar of coloured gumballs in the window.
Alternatively, they may, if evocatively designed, also exist online.
Unlike snotty-nosed kids of times past clutching their thr'pence, credit card-carrying customers with corporate pocket money can buy enough sugary treats to fill Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory. "The trip to the candy store is the beloved ritual of childhood," enthuses eCandy Marketplace, laying it on a little thick. "After the last school bell rings, the candy aisles fill up with kids." (And we thought it was the bicycle sheds that filled up with smokers.)
"Some grab gummies of every shape and size. Some are loyal to lollipops. And others find cheer in sugar-filled sticks." While the rest of us, not a million miles away, found toothaches in all three. But eCandy knows its audience and asks us to rekindle our inner child. "Buying our favourites becomes a self-made tradition that remains part of us. Now that we live in the hustle and bustle of the adult world, this childhood tradition, reminiscent of a carefree time, becomes all the more important".
This particular online store is, of course, full of good ol' Americana. Some are pure gimmickry in the same vein as the Spice Girls' chewing gum. Try - or not, as you like, - a bottle of I Love Lucy red cinnamon hearts or Britney Spears CD Player Gum. Each box contains CD player cases in pink, purple and turquoise. But scoffing aside, eCandy is worth visiting for the array of edible memorabilia, from sour apples to rainbow-inspired whirly pops.
Asher's Irish Potatoes, another eCandy offering, are unlikely to make it big here. Described as "a soft coconut confection, delightfully sweetened and rolled in cinnamon", they sound delicious, nevertheless. They also illustrate the cultural significance of sweets. Some US sweets have virtually disappeared, such as the infamous Black Bart, a finger-sized lump of liquorice. Similarly, you won't have tasted seaweed gum unless you grew up in Japan.
NECCO candy wafers, another US phenomenon, have been around since 1847. One of the three founders of the company, Boston-based Chase and Co., patented the first US candy machine that same year. Bizarrely, in the 1930s, Admiral Byrd took two and a half tonnes of Necco wafers to the South Pole, practically a pound a week for each of his men during their two-year stay in the Antarctic. They were also used as "rewards" for Eskimo children.
Closer to home, Chris and Kevin Candy set up Candyulove having noticed the dearth of neighbourhood sweet shops. (They were certainly destined to go into the candy profession with a name like that!) Treats such as gummy dentures, aniseed balls, buttermint bonbons and banana splits are available with free delivery to Ireland. Chris Candy (his real name is Hurdman) left the army in 1988 and became a market trader before setting up his website two years ago.
The Oxford-based website gets up to 1,000 hits daily. "There's a niche for it," says Chris. "We sell about 250 lines. Around 50 per cent of them you just can't get anymore in your average corner shop. People e-mail me from all over the world, including one guy who visited the UK 20 years ago. He bought 10 kilograms of Tilley's Acid Drops." Their most popular sellers are sugared almonds, popularised in France as celebratory candy, and Lovehearts, which now say "text me" as well as "hug me" and "love me".
From Daisy's Sweet Emporium of Co Durham to Sweet Charlottes of New Orleans, there is no shortage of online candy stores. So, where have all "or most of" the bricks and mortar sweet shops gone?
My childhood sweet shop, for one, has morphed into a Spar. The old magic is lost behind Spar's ever-familiar red exterior. Over 20 years ago, the shop carried the name of its owners, a delightful elderly couple. And when a younger, fashionable, perennially tanned duo took over, their improvements were greeted in the neighbourhood with muffled gasps. Still, the shop was known by the name of its original owners.
The second owner was aware of its history. So, he gave away the odd penny sweet with almost every purchase. But they were never dropped coyly into a tenpenny bag. They were presented with a gift-like flourish and, of course, a smile. Here was a man the army of children in the neighbourhood could trust. There was a new proprietor in town, but he was one of the little people. This act of goodwill was a stroke of genius. I, for one, remained a loyal customer for 15 years.
Of all the sugar-coated, multicoloured treasures within, cola bottles were my weakness. And when they were in short supply, fizzy cola bottles were the next best thing. Here are some other treats from childhoods past and present: caramel creams, fruit salads, pear drops, cola cubes, outerspacers, fizzy space dust, lucky dips (complete with lolly), candy cigarettes (believe it), bulls' eyes, lemon sherberts, flogs (marshmallow-like stumps), gobstoppers and lolly soothers.
The memories these names evoke have propelled some sweets into revered objects. Earlier this year, Cuban conceptual artist Felix Gonzales-Torres exhibited chocolate caramels at London's Serpentine Gallery. Mistakenly, he celebrated gourmet confectionery fit for the finest, crowned, gold-capped teeth in Europe. Where, the critics opined, were more downmarket sweets like flying saucers, sherbert dips and gobstoppers? Andy Warhol would never have got it so wrong.
Our sweet-eating days also taught us a thing or two. Remember the sheer disappointment at tasting your first mouthful of candy floss, miraculously whipped up from one of those spinning fairground vats? Its pink fluffiness looked too good to be true. It was. Like a bad dream, it melted into nothingness as soon as you took a bite. And when we lost a tooth in the process, the good fairy delivered a shiny 50 pence wrapped in tinfoil as a reward enough for five tenpenny bags.
Today, many youngsters are quick to move from sweets to cigarettes. So, when did it stop becoming cool to suck a lollipop in public? And when did it start becoming daring or fun? To be seen eating one fruity lollipop, unlike burrowing through a bag of salty crisps with sticky fingers, is hardly unhealthy or uncooth. Is there a sense of shame or self-indulgence in eating sweets in public? Is it pure childishness? For those who think so, two little words: grow up!
Websites:
www.ecandy.com
www.candylove.co.uk
www.daisyssweetemporium.com
www.sweetcharlottes.com