For the Love of Twizzlers

The name, the texture, the abundance—everything about the candy inspires devotion.

- BY SARAH PERRY

I have pure love for Twizzlers, and I also love how much other people love them.

When I'm driving, I always prefer the radio to hooking up my own music: knowing that thousands of other people are out there, hearing the same songs and singing along, all of us strangers breathing in time, our bodies infused with the same drumbeat, makes everything sound better. And so with Twizzlers, a candy that inspires devotion.

This may leave you wondering if Twizzlers are my favorite candy.

Sugar is a pleasure that I take seriously. I have rhapsodized about the perfection of a fresh Twix and tipsily ranted about how overrated Trader Joe's Peanut Butter Cups are. But I can't answer this "favorite" question, not yet. The underlying premise that our strongest desires are stable, unchangeable, that we crown a best love and leave it at that depresses.

Pleasure is wonderfully circumstantial, varied. Favorite under what circumstances? In what weather? On the road or at home? In what mood? Can I get my hands dirty? My fellow candy people understand, but hopefully we all have something that lights us up, gives us a reprieve, some kind of tactile, visceral experience that keeps us connected to the world and about which we're a little obsessive. For some it's sports, yoga, gardening, or sex; for me it's candy-and sex, though not at the same time.