PEOPLE MIGHT SAY I'm a sucker for stupid gadgets, but I prefer to describe myself as a connoisseur. It's not an easy thing to be. A gadget connoisseur has to be able to suspend feelings of disbelief, pessimism, and mockery. The phrase "That thing ain't gonna last five minutes in the real world!" can't be in his vocabulary, and though he must appreciate physics and engineering, he shouldn't be overly concerned with the "laws" of those fields. Let's say he comes across an ad for Clef du Vin, a little piece of metal that supposedly can "replicate the aging process" in wine when it's dunked like a cookie into a glass of immature vino. He shouldn't think too hard about the chemistry behind that. Instead he should be thankful that science has put a lifetime of perfectly aged Bordeaux in his hands for a one-time payment of $79.99.

A gadget connoisseur also has to have a fertile imagination. I recently demonstrated this when I ordered a JakPak from a company called Active Engineering. The JakPak is a new product described as "the world's first all-in-one waterproof jacket, tent, and sleeping bag." My buddy Dave was over when it showed up. Dave isn't a gadget connoisseur—he actually carries an old-fashioned hatchet in his backpack. (If I were going to carry a hatchet, its handle would have to contain something like a robotic blowtorch attachment.) Dave mockingly pointed out that the JakPak's jacket was a tad heavy; that the "sleeping bag" wasn't insulated; and that the "tent" would be better described as an oversize hood.

I barely listened, because my daydreams had already carried me away: There I was, drinking with Dave in a strange city. After last call, we couldn't remember the name of our hotel, so we headed off in a freezing downpour and became hopelessly lost. Dave panicked and cried. Swaddled in the rubbery warmth of the JakPak, I dozed to the sound of his sobs, waking just long enough to wonder whether I should offer him a bit of shelter.

"Nope," I thought. "Next time, don't underestimate the gadget." "We like and dislike the word gadget," says Steven Schwartz, an operational vice president at Brookstone. "We dislike it, as it can infer unnecessary, quirky, cheap. We like it when it infers problem solving." As you may know, Brookstone is a leading gadget retailer, with more than 300 stores in U.S. malls and airports. It was founded in 1965 by an MIT-trained mechanical engineer who took an interest in hard-to-find tools. Nowadays the company traffics in tools that are not only hard to find but hard to believe. Two hot sellers are the Grill Alert Talking Remote Meat Thermometer and the Sona anti-snore pillow. Schwartz says the pillow, which tweaks your jaw into a non-snore position, is a "big, clinically proven problem solver," while the thermometer helps "cook your food right every time."

If these gadgets really work as advertised—and I'm taking Schwartz's word, since I haven't tested either—that's great. But it would be irresponsible of me to ignore a key aspect of gadgets: Quite often they don't.

Here I'm thinking particularly of a biscuit-size wristwatch I used to have, with a built-in digital compass and altimeter, which I ordered from a company called Tech4O. When I got it, the first thing I did was walk to the shore of the Atlantic Ocean for a test run. The watch told me I was 1,100 feet above sea level. The manual explained how to calibrate the altimeter by entering the known elevation. I did this, then watched with astonishment as I gained 700 feet without moving an inch. I calibrated again, which put me in the weird position of arguing with a watch. This battle raged across states and continents and ended in violence near the Seychelles. Recalling that experience today, I feel obligated to tweak Brookstone's definition: gadget—a problem-solving device that you might be tempted to call a worthless doohickey as you hurl it into the ocean.

Most of Brookstone's sales happen at their stores, but an important outlet for them is the SkyMall catalog. Found in the seat-back pockets of most major domestic airlines, SkyMall is the gadget lover's bible, a compendium of gizmos offered up by SkyMall's "partner companies," which have included Brookstone, Casio, and Hammacher Schlemmer. SkyMall is owned by a Manhattan–based private-equity firm called Spire Capital, but its offices are in Phoenix. The catalog is seen by 88 percent of all U.S. airline passengers—some 130 million people—making it the de facto face of American gadgetry.

SkyMall's original business plan, dating back to the 1980s, was for customers to order products in-flight, using seat-back phones, with the merchandise waiting for them at the gate. That didn't work out too well—customers usually want purchases delivered to their homes—so these days the business model relies on the belief that a shopper's enthusiasm will last at least as long as the flight and the drive home. SkyMall catalogs are complimentary, so you can tuck one into your purse or backpack and place an order at your leisure.

Somebody must be buying, because the catalogs are always there, hawking laser-guided pool cues, battery-powered ultra­violet toothbrush cleaners, and wristbands that battle seasickness by transmitting "gentle electrostatic pulses to the P6 meridian acustimulation point" in your arm. But sales figures are a closely guarded secret. Theresa McMullan, SkyMall's vice president of marketing, could tell me nothing about how many units of the "Keep Your Distance" Bug Vacuum SkyMall has moved, nor could she offer details about the intriguing Head Spa Massager—a helmet thingy that features both "Italian design" and "Japanese engineering."

What she could say was that people love just about anything related to surveillance, like the Spy Pen, which secretly records your interactions when clipped to your pocket. SkyMall also sells a tracking device that tells you where your spouse has driven the car, and a $600 tissue box that can secretly record activities in your bedroom even when it's dark. This Christmas, SkyMall is unveiling a pair of sunglasses with a built-in camcorder.

I asked McMullan how she defines "gadgets."

"I'd say...portable electronics," she said.

"Especially if they can be used to spy on your husband or wife?"

"I can't speak to that."