A Nostalgic Goodbye to Fingerhut: Remembering the 'Buy Now, Pay Later' Catalog

Not a real Fingerhut catalog but this captures the essence of a real one

Oh, the catalogs. I swear, growing up, our mailbox could have been less of a mail receptacle and more of a gateway to a museum of mailorder business. We had the heavy-hitters, Sears, Spiegel, Montgomery Ward, JC Penny but the one that always seemed to show up, year-round, was the Fingerhut catalog. It was just there, no matter if my mom was ordering or not.

Honestly, I didn't pay much mind to Fingerhut until I hit my teens. That's when my high school sweetheart, Richie, became a customer. I'll never forget the saga of the comforter. It was the early 90s in Pace, Florida and Richie was proud of the decorative comforter he’d ordered. His mom, Rose, on the other hand, made fun of him because he got it from Fingerhut. Looking back, Rose was kind of a cantankerous person who instilled enough passive aggressiveness in her parenting that one couldn’t tell if she was just being mean or just didn't get the magic. The comforter was cozy, not feminine, not basic and frankly, it was cute. It also served the vital purpose, Richie would share it with me while we sat next to each other on the couch and it hid the fact that we were holding hands while we watched TV with his sisters and Rose. I wasn’t in the closet but Richie was so keeping our attraction a secret was important, and yes, the pun is intended: that blanket kept us undercover. Hats off to Richie for being savvy enough to fill out that order form for a comforter that cost just $3.99 a month. I have no idea how many payments he had to make, but trust me, it was worth every single cent.

AI version of a Fingerhut-esque page

When he showed me the catalog, I was struck dumb. It wasn't just bedding; they had everything! And the most incredible part was their business model. It was all sold on the promise of credit with no credit check. You just sent in your first month’s payment, and 6 to 8 weeks later, your purchase arrived, usually just after your first bill.

Everyone talks about the music clubs—BMG, Columbia House—but no one really talks about Fingerhut's amazing business model of trust. I actually bought a few things myself and it felt like such a sophisticated adult thing to do! The only things I can vividly remember ordering was a glorious Lava Lamp and a Panasonic portable cassette player—or as we all generically called them back then, a Walkman. While not exactly as fun as getting instant gratification from buying at a store and taking home upon payment, they were delivered right to my door and I paid for them later. I only started to understand Rose’s "smack talk" years later when I realized I was probably paying double what I would have if I’d gone straight to a store and paid cash. The cassette player most likely wasn’t the newest model but it worked like a charm and it was mine.

As I got older, I realized the weird stigma attached to Fingerhut. It was the original "buy now, pay later"—kind of like reverse layaway. If you think about it historically, though, it was kinda cool; old general stores did similar things, offering accounts that people could pay off over time. But then stores like Big Lots expanded and it became clear that a lot of the items in the Fingerhut catalog were similar closeout items. Still, they had their definite place in the world of mail-order, just as Big Lots had its place in the retail world.

In my adult life, I always loved getting the Fingerhut catalog. It felt old-fashioned, comforting and a total throwback to a simpler time. I could easily jump online and buy the same things with a few clicks using a credit card or even go to the Fingerhut website and use a Fingerhut credit card, but nothing beat flipping through those glossy pages.

So, it's been a while since I received one and curiosity finally got the best of me. I went to the website and discovered the gut-punch news: they have recently gone out of business. How incredibly sad is that? To me, this company seemed like one that would last forever. It’s been around as long as I can remember.

Now that they’re gone, will you miss them? If you loved the old-school Fingerhut business, you can still check out a similar online store called Ginny’s, which is owned by Colony Brands—the company many of you might remember as Swiss Colony, who also own the current incarnation of Montgomery Ward. Were you a Fingerhut customer? What products did you buy? Share your favorite memory in the comments below.

If you enjoyed this little trip down memory lane and would like to support my writing and future nostalgic deep dives, you can buy me a coffee through my profile link. Your support helps me keep the lights on and the memories flowing. Thanks for reading!

Nostalgic Joy: My Lifelong Love for Catalogs at Christmas

The Christmas season was always a special time in my house, despite my parents' relationship being a bit of a struggle, to say the least. Mama and Daddy always made sure to make it special for my sister and me. While there was plenty going on on TV as well as the radio, I would sometimes spend hours next to the Christmas tree, at the kitchen table, or in my room flipping through catalogs, making lists for my upcoming letter to Santa. Back when we lived in our little yellow rented house on Easter Lane in Mobile, Alabama, my parents began to collect catalogs from stores like JC Penny, Spiegel, Montgomery Ward, as well as the holy grail of catalogs, Sears—most notably, the Sears Wish Book.

The catalogs never seemed to be thrown away even after they were outdated, and they followed us from the yellow house to the house we moved into two doors down a few years later, and also when we moved to Pace, Florida. Each year, new additions would arrive, inspiring more Christmas wishes for me. I tried to preserve the catalogs as best I could, never marking in them unlike most children who circled what they wanted. Instead, I made lists, noting the store, catalog number, page number, a description, and the reason I wanted the item. Although I knew I wasn't going to get everything I asked for—sometimes not a single thing on my list—it was still a fun and exciting activity that filled me with holiday spirit.

After I left home, my love for catalogs remained strong. While many of the catalogs from stores of the past are no longer printed due to the businesses going under, focusing on brick and mortar sales or simply transitioning to online sales, I still occasionally receive catalogs. Companies like Ginny's, a part of the modern-day Swiss Colony and Montgomery Ward, still send out catalogs, and there's also the massive book from a company that seems to tickle everyone's funny bone, Fingerhut. I also enjoy looking at the old catalogs on pages like Wishbook Web, where I can relive those nostalgic memories and daydreams.

Even as an adult, I find joy in flipping through these catalogs, reminiscing about the simpler times when I'd dream of Christmas gifts by the light of the Christmas tree. The tradition of catalog browsing may have evolved, but the magic it brings remains the same. Whether it's making lists or just admiring the variety of products, catalogs have always been a source of excitement and holiday spirit for me. How about you? What were your favorite catalogs?