Since I left my cranky-pants folded so carefully up here, I may as well put them on again today.
NB: The cranky I’m directing isn’t directed at YOU. So, if you’re one of the people who blogged or forwarded to me the latest Dove campaign, please don’t feel that this is personal, okay? Think of this instead as a good Hank rant. It’s not against you. It’s against the corporations.
There are days that I feel particularly out of step with the world, like when I’m asked to participate in a marketing survey and asked what advertising “speaks” to me, and I’m struck dumb by the complete emptiness of my head at that point, and I think, “Um…?” Or, when, in the same survey, I’m asked to name the model of a car after being told the maker, and asked for an adjectival description… Um. Fiat. I didn’t know they had models… I thought there were just… Fiats. CLEARLY, I am the wrong person for so many things.
Part of this uselessness comes from avoiding advertising like the plague – If I hadn’t already agreed to take the survey to help someone out, I would have withdrawn (I may have skewed their results entirely) – I don’t have a TV, I don’t often read sales papers, I have AdBlock on my computer, and the home page is plain old Google – no newsfeed, no fun little apps. I prefer my phones dumb. I prefer to limit the inrush of the information stream, to narrow its tributaries to a single drop from the spigot of my choosing, lest I be overwhelmed. I know myself, and know how much of a relationship with chaos I can afford.
That’s why, when I receive a forward from a flurry of people, telling me that they’ve wept, I expect that they expect me to do the same. I’m immediately intrigued – in an appalled sort of way. Dove’s campaigns are allegedly pro-woman — though their relationship with Photoshop for their “Campaign for Real Beauty” was undeniably disappointing – and so, I’m getting my “girly” on, and joining the gang.
Except, once again, I’m out of step. I don’t feel like crying. I feel …herded.
shutout game
ready, aim and fire —
all your feel-good footage. Me:
a swing, and a misscar shopping
make, model
style. shade. Preference:
wheels. motor.
I don’t at all deny that the smart graphic design and marketing team behind the Dove campaign knows people, and how they tick. They’ve emphasized the messages of real beauty being that toward which we’re all supposed to strive. I’m kind of “meh” about beauty – I have big teeth, a weirdly shaped head, frizzy hair, broad shoulders, a wide, short torso, and too much bust – not to mention weight – for my very little height. I’m kind of over beautiful, in the regular realm of things – it’s like that Judy Shendlein quote: “Beauty fades, dumb is forever.” Whether or not you agree (and I don’t – I believe ugly is relative, and people grow into their looks their whole lives) I’m not ever going to be beautiful in a non-Photoshopped Dove world, where “real” beauty is relative. Not beauty, but strong, that, I can just about manage.
Why doesn’t anyone ever celebrate strength and capability, Dove? Put some thought into that, please.