Logowear
When I first became involved in
the advertising racket
back in the mid-1970s,
an agency poobah with whom I
was acquainted
referred to the consumers whom
his advertisements gulled
as his victims.
He also told me that he did his
best to avoid being victimised himself,
but sometimes slipped up.
That was when logowear was first appearing,
with Ralph Lauren Polo and Calvin Klein
and other such snob-appeal brands
pioneering the idea that their victims were willing
to pay a premium price for the privilege
of being walking billboards for their companies,
a situation that seemed
to reach a ludicrous peak in the late 1990s.
Before the mid-70s, though, companies and sport teams
used to have large numbers of billed caps, for example,
made with their logos on the fronts,
and give them away as promotional items.
We called ’em gimme caps.
Then, when they discovered the insanity
of their victims craving to identify themselves
with their brands’ bloody personalities,
of all things,
instead of giving them away they started selling them
at ridiculously high
prices.
Many years ago one of my daughters received an offer to be an extra
in some American movie being shot up in Auckland
The brief from the agency included the instructions
not to wear anything with a visible logo,
as companies had to pay a product-placement fee
to get their logos onto the screen.
This is what we’d come to, then –
In the world of make-believe companies have to pay
for people to advertise their products.
In real life people pay them to do it.
They’re There
They’re there –
just over the horizon,
just around the corner,
slipping into your house
on electromagnetic waves or worse.
They’re there, all right –
with flawless designer barbering and grooming
and top-of-the-line designer clothes and designer fingernails,
and don’t forget the $10,000 designer smiles,
with the perfect white orthodontic work
and the crinkly little laugh lines – not too large –
at the corners of their eyes.
They’re there, all right –
you’re letting them in;
your kids are letting them in
your kids
expressing their individuality by copying what they see others buy
from them
your kids
rebelling against their control by buying shit
from them –
a $60 t-shirt promoting some entertainment act
that they know their mums and their English teachers are sure to
hate –
that’ll show ’em who’s a rebel, eh?
Oh, they’re there, all right –
cleaning up, smiling,
motivating you,
detesting you;
giving you options, not choices:
which beer brand expresses your
personality?
detesting you
for going without things you need
to pay for their hundred-million-dollar mansions.
I’d smile, too.
They’re there, all right.
Lotsa times I wish I had
their skills and their stomach
for fleecing the rubes –
and the hell with everything collapsing
somewhere further on down the road.
A Popular Brand
He noticed, as always, her
scent
– Coco
Mademoiselle, by Chanel –
so distinctively hers,
as well as millions of other
consumers’.
Walter Dill Scott
Not
exactly a household name,
Walter
Dill Scott,
but
he has had more influence
on
the way that people have lived
ever
since shortly after the First World War
than
any other human.
His
philosophy and techniques,
now
much more highly refined,
have
probably influenced the way that you
live,
behave, and even think
more
than those of any other human.
He
was the first to apply psychology to advertising.
You
know – sell the sizzle, not the steak.
Sell
hope, not cosmetics.
Sell
sex appeal and status, not cars.
Sell
status and sex appeal, not clothes.
Sell
love, not life insurance.
Sell
fellowship, not beer.
Sell
homes, not houses.
Sell
family time, not greaseburgers.
Sell
security, not a police state.
Sell
a vaguely brighter future,
and
not policies that will prevent one for most.
Before
Walter Dill Scott,
advertising
had been a matter of publicising
what
businesses had for sale and the price,
and
electoral politics had been one of
intimidation,
scare-mongering,
family
ties, inertia, patronage, corruption,
or
some combination of these.
Quality
When I was a Boy Scout
I preferred Wranglers blue jeans
because they advertised
in the Boy Scout magazine.
For about the next forty-five years I wore Levis
They were durable and they fit well.
Then, some time in the early nineties,
it wasn’t enough just to contract out
all manufacturing to the third world,
they also had to position their brand
as high fashion.
The old-fashioned emphasis
on toughness and comfort
became a thing of the past.
My first pair of designer Levis
fell apart after three months,
whereas all my previous pairs
had survived daily wear
for well over a year.
The next pair lasted about two weeks
before ripping apart at the seams.
When I tried to take them back
the store manager told me to hit the road.
When I bemoaned Levis
to a shallow acquaintance of mine,
he defended the brand by saying
that it all depends on what you mean by ‘quality’.
Why Not? Why?
I was watching footie on TV
with the sound off,
and an ad came on for pseudo-Mexican
food.
The subtitles under the
little-girl actress said,
‘Why not tacos that aren’t
spicy?’
And all the other actors
performed a joyous
pseudo-Mexican dance of
celebration.
Well, why not tacos that aren’t
spicy?
Why not sex that isn’t slimy?
Why not feelings that aren’t
distracting?
Why not life that isn’t living?
Purely Marketing
One of the funnier things
about those SUV wanker wagons
is that despite their being so ludicrously huge
they stow their spare tyres on the outside.
Hell, if my little old economy car
has room in the boot for a tyre,
why don’t they?
Of course, having enough room isn’t the point.
I know that it’s purely a marketing ploy
and has no relevance to functionality.
It also probably makes the tyres easier to steal.
What I don’t know is what psychological need
the auto companies’ research uncovered
within their target market of dedicated wankers
that the symbol of an external spare tyre fulfils.
Sex? Power? Status?
The illusion of ruggedness?
The illusion of being hard-working?
The illusion of wildness?
The illusion of freedom?
{As Performed Live by the New Millennium Beatniks}
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