free to be... straight

The new back-to-school television commercial from Target reached straight into the center of my raised-in-the-70's heart, as three identical girls all dressed in identical boring uniforms run the cheery gauntlet of the first day back at school, adding color and quirk here and there, finally emerging as brightly-hued, chipper individuals, thanks, one presumes, to the bounty of festive clothing and accessories available at Target. But what really makes the ad — the breezy silk bow on top, if you will — is the title song from "Free To Be, You and Me", a musical for kids released in 1972 by the Ms. Foundation for Women that celebrated individuality and selfhood.

I loved this musical as a kid, wore the grooves out on my 33" vinyl copy played over and over again on the little brown Fisher Price phonograph-in-a-suitcase. And thirty years later, I bought the CD for my kids, who, wee modern sophisticates that they are, were underwhelmed. Despite the current generation's lack of appreciation, Target's ad agency showed unrelenting genius by choosing music that would have such appeal to the purchasing "gatekeeper" (generally this is understood to be a mom who buys stuff for her family, though here's a more-than-token shout out for all you consumerist dad-types out there, too) with a song recalling the Marlo Thomas-prompted, earnest self-acceptance of their youth.

What they may not have intended, however, was the ad release coinciding with a massive petition against Target for making political donations that feature a money trail leading straight to anti-gay organizations. The dissonance, cognitive and otherwise, here is palpable: acceptance of every individual and his or her potential vs. that hackneyed old kill-the gays, not-in-my-hetero-backyardism. Target, you can't have it both ways. We're too smart for this shell game — don't sell us with snippets of our starry-eyed youth with one hand, and support hatred and vitriol with the other. We've all heard of greenwashing by now, but this? I won't go so far as to call it gaywashing, but it comes pretty damned close. 

Who's For Dinner?

"What is pork, exactly?" my 6-year-old daughter, Frances, asked, eyeing her tenderloin with suspicion. We had just finished reading Charlotte's Web...

(click here to continue reading my short article on talking to kids about the origins of meat in the June issue of Parenting School Years)

chip shot

One day before the Masters golf tournament, Nike released a stunning — in every sense of the word — new ad spot featuring Tiger Woods. (As everyone not residing under a rock knows, Woods was the starring act in one of last year's biggest scandals: macro-marital infidelity. Sponsors dropped him like a dirty tissue, and he withdrew from professional golf indefinitely.) The ad seems simple, austere even, with a slow-zooming closeup of an opaque, slightly pouty Woods gazing directly at the camera, and a voiceover of his late father, Earl Woods, asking him, "I want to find out what your thinking was, I want to find out what your feelings are, and, did you learn anything?"

Is Tiger's pout one of contrition? That he ruined — temporarily, at least — his career? Destroyed his family? Had to stare unblinking into the photographer's lights for an entire thirty seconds? It's hard to say. One infers the hope that we perceive a sincerity, a redemption, a humanity in this immortal yet fallen star, and will welcome him back to earth. 

Nike may be known for deceptively simple but deep-diving truth telling in it's advertising, but this is strange new territory, even for them. The term "spin" is hardly adequate for the dizzying mulligan on attempt here. Spinning shame into public self-reflection is hardly believable, particularly in an overtly marketing context. And while asking the difficult questions is a noble pursuit, puppeteering the dead into asking them is an exercise in dubious ethics.

So, do you think the ad is ingenious? Immoral? Or somewhere in-between? Once a fan and now just affronted, I'm pretty teed off about it myself.

ceci n'est pas social media

One of the most common and egregious mistakes we're seeing in the marketing world right now is the adoption of social media for one-way communication. Nearly every corporation under the sun has gleefully set up official Twitter and Facebook accounts, but many are treating these channels as just another form of broadcast media. Quite forgetting the "social" aspect of the medium, they bleat product announcements in the 140-character version of uninspired direct mail, or spam the electronic universe with overexcited Become A Fan On Facebook! entreaties.

But what do they offer in exchange? As users quickly find out, becoming a fan or a follower usually garners exponentially more one-way advertising, with minimal gain. To be fair, I'll allow that some companies leverage their online presence judiciously: by offering small rewards such as coupons or VIP purchasing status, or empowering their customers by soliciting input on how the company can change or grow, or by using social media as another customer service vehicle to answer queries and address complaints.

Yet, for the most part, many companies still exhibit a fundamental misunderstanding of social media's function. And in a world where suddenly everyone has an equally audible voice, it is not only rude to shout nonstop into the digital megaphone – it's downright dangerous. It alienates the audience, reduces bandwidth, and forces business down the rabbit hole of diminishing returns.

super snark: does it really sell?

There is a strange advertising trend afoot, have you noticed? It's like all the ad agencies took a Kafka pill and decided that alienation is the new key to communicative success. And this alienation is taking a very specific, anti-female form.

It's possible the creators of overtly misogynistic ads (hi, Dodge Charger!) rationalized they were only targeting a very specific, male audience, but even if that's the case, pointing out to said audience the "fact" of their browbeaten enslavement to wives and girlfriends is itself insulting. 

A slightly more veiled version of this appeared in the Dove ad, where lyrics demonstrated commiserative understanding of a man's plight, heaped with impossible expectations first by family and culture then, yes, by his wife. And while the tagline proclaims to help men "be comfortable in their own skin" the visual implication is that Dove soap will help you wash all those woman troubles away.

Conversely, a barely veiled version appeared in the FloTV ad where girlfriends routinely perform spine-otomies on boyfriends before dragging them along unmentionables shopping.

Of course the E*Trade babies bickering over what he did last night and with who doesn't shine a flattering light, neither does the man who ransomed his wife for his Bridgestone tires, or GoDaddy.com's hackneyed objectification of women (yawn). And while Dockers may claim it wasn't their intent, one can hardly read "It's time to wear the pants" without mentally finishing up "in the family," an implicit directive to take back the reins in a female-dominated... what? Workplace? Dinner table? Hegemony?

Never mind the female half of the population, many of whom watch football because they enjoy it, or because it is a sociable event, or one they can share with their partner, or perhaps even — gasp! — just for the commercials... no, they're too conniving and controlling, too busy issuing irrational demands to get their knickers in a knot over some silly man-speak spot. No need to worry about alienating them into the arms of other brands. Just throw a lasso over the base, cro-magnon brain stem of all them mens and boom! Problem solved. Brand loyalty acquired. High fives and backslaps all around!

And then. The purest romantic ideal (or as closely approximating it as modernity allows) unfolded with a near-blank screen, spare ambient music from Analogue Muse, and simple search queries cascading through a love story. The Google ad was unique in its sweetness and affirmation of human relationships amidst what was otherwise, advertipalooza may it be, a sea of sexist cynicism. The response it garnered (Twitter awash in tears, pundits surreptitiously blowing their bloggy noses) only proves there's no need to game the snark system; successful advertising can be simple, understated and sweet. I'll have what they're having.