...the purchase of which a collegue's ex-girlfriend convinced me. Back then, the little creature of iron and plastic was to say it mildly...costly. For its price, one would expect that the iron will also be able to make me breakfast, give back massages and be closer to it's cousin ~ the vacuum cleaner. Of course, such an iron is complete bs. The price of it maintains good marketing, which manages to convince a number of women that life without it is pure ironing torment. Or ironing slavery. Men usually decide to make such a wasted investment for the sake of peace. "Let her have it if she wants it," think Slovenian men when paying half the average salary for an iron. Men of other nationalities probably don't have home "marketing" problems and instead of fingers, which are usually counting money, save the problems with palms and fists. Without counting.