So, Reebok has these new shoes that supposedly tone your butt and legs more than regular sneakers, using "balance ball-inspired technology." (Hooray for science! I'm also hearing great things about the promise of jump rope- and yoga block-inspired technology. The future is now, people.) But since there are other footwear brands out there offering similar results -- really, if you're still wearing lazy-ass shoes that only offer exercise benefits directly proportionate to the amount you walk or run in them, you're a chump -- Reebok needed advertising that would make theirs stand out. And what's edgier or more original than objectifying women?
I saw this ad, in which a short-shorted woman tries to give a serious spiel on the sneakers, only to be distracted by the camera dude constantly zooming in on her sweet ass, while watching Hulu the other night. So this is definitely a real thing Reebok paid for.
This morning, I saw a Tweet from The Illusionists, asking, "Is this uber-sexist (and NSFW) Reebok ad authentic?!?" with a link to what you see below. Because I didn't want to wake my husband sleeping in the next room and didn't know where my headphones were, I watched it with the sound down -- and having already seen the first ad, I concluded that this must be a parody. I mean, the camera does nothing but linger on a woman's breasts in a demi-cup bra for a full 20 seconds, before it switches to an ass shot, and then the shoes it's actually advertising. Whoever made it had to be sending up the whole idea of using sexualized body parts to sell sneakers to women, right?
Then I found my headphones. And noticed that the ad is called "Dialogue." As in, a dialogue between this woman's breasts.
Righty: Hey, did you see? Nobody's staring at us anymore.
Lefty: Are we still hot?
Righty: Clearly! You know what? It's all because of that stupid butt down there.
You get the idea. Now that the ass is 28% more toned and thus getting all the attention, the boobs are jealous. And that, my friends, is how you use a close-up on breasts to sell sneakers.
You know, advertising teaches me something new every day. All those times I got pissed off about a guy staring at my chest instead of talking to my face? My poor breasts were probably hurt that I stole their thunder. Would you believe I never even considered their feelings, much less the real possibility of internecine conflict between them and my butt? I just kept acting like only my brain should be allowed an opinion on whether being leered at is a positive thing, never realizing that my tits might feel all purposeless and empty inside if they go unwatched. What an appalling lack of empathy on my brain's part.
I trust I don't need to repeat my rant from yesterday on why companies trying to sell women products with images that appeal primarily to heterosexual men is infuriating. But the depressing question I didn't get to in that post is: How well does it work? Sterling-Cooper lost the Patio account with the Ann-Margret ripoff Peggy objected to, but Reebok paid for these and paid to run them. (Well, at least one -- has anyone seen the boob ad somewhere other than YouTube?) Some decision-maker was confident that women will be so enchanted by the thought of being ogled more often, they'll run out and buy these shoes. And what's really scary to consider is, they might not be wrong -- not entirely, anyway. When I ran the ads by a feminist friend this morning, she agreed that they were outrageous and insulting, but admitted she was still intrigued by the thought of toning her butt with no extra work. Even if women buy the product in spite of the ads, enough of them doing that will give the impression that the marketing strategy was brilliant.
But here's an interesting data point: According to a recent report, the undisputed market leader in athletic footwear is Nike, a company that's been selling women's shoes with ads that emphasize active participation in sports, not ogle-worthiness, since the '90s. Nike's far from perfect, of course, but when they used boobs, they belonged to Serena Williams and appeared under her crossed, muscular arms and a high-necked T-shirt that read "Athlete," with the caption, "Are you looking at my titles?" When they used close-ups on female body parts and copy about how others might perceive them, it was with text like, "My mother worries I will never marry with knees like these. But I know there's someone out there who will say to me: I love you and I love your knees," and "My butt is big and that's just fine. And those who might scorn it are invited to kiss it." If the new Reebok ads help the company knock Nike out of the top spot, then I'll admit that they made good business sense (after I'm done sobbing), but as it is, the market leader is the one that uses images of strong women who care more about being athletic than being pretty. The market leader is the one that figured out how to sell a major female fantasy: being treated with at least a modicum of respect by advertisers.
So you want to be the "Best Ever Celebrity Viral Ad." You could be Kobe Bryant jumping over a car. Or Nicole Kidman pushing perfume. Oh, who are we kidding? Be a fox writhing around on furniture wearing high-end underpants.
When the media distributor Go Viral named the greatest spot of all time this week, the winner was an 8-year-old commercial for Agent Provocateur lingerie featuring singer Kylie Minogue, a soundtrack by the Hives and a plush, velvet-covered mechanical bull. (Just curious: Where can you get one of those?) In it, the singer sets out to prove the lingerie is "the most erotic" in the world, and by golly, it's convincing. Last winter, the clip was also named the greatest cinema ad in a poll by Digital Cinema Media.
The ad, which was shown only in theaters, beat out Sarah Silverman's ode to doing it with Matt Damon, Ellen Feiss' trippy Apple ad, and even the iconic Obama campaign's "Yes We Can." It's clocked in at 350 million views on YouTube and counting. Take THAT, will.i.am!
Is it the greatest ad ever? Debatable. But it's proof that if you want 350 million hits on YouTube it helps to be nothing less than scorching hot.
Perhaps you've seen the new Kleenex ad (below) in which a sniffly 20-something dude goes door to door looking for the perfect mother to help him through his cold -- eventually rejecting each one for somehow screwing up his fantasy of perfectly coddled convalescence. (One serves unappetizing-looking greens, one spits on her finger and tries to wipe his face, one seems to want a hug.) And perhaps it's made you, like me, want to punch your TV screen.
But have you seen the companion Web site, GetMommed.com, yet? Because if not, you might want to reserve that screen-punching energy.
The Web site offers grown men (and women, I guess, although the ad tells us who the real market is) their choice of eight different nurturers, each of whom will deploy maternal wisdom and Kleenex tissues in her own special, stereotypical way. Click on a mom, and hear her campaign speech for the honor of being your caregiver this cold and flu season!
"True southern girl" (never mind that she's middle-aged) Magnolia -- the spinach-server from the commercial -- wants to spoil you if she's "lucky enough to be your mama." Phyllis, patterned on Dustin Hoffman's Tootsie and a thousand Jewish mother jokes, loves, "cooking, laundry and buying presents, because if you're happy, I'm happy." East Asian mom Sue will make sure you still get to work during your cold, because she has watched enough sitcoms to understand that "tough love" is what East Asian moms do best. "I don't put up with excuses, procrastination, or being a baby. Not even from babies!" Since there is no South Asian mom option, you'll have to make do with hippyish Amber's appropriation of key concepts like karma, chanting, balance, orange silk accessories, and distrust of newfangled Western medicine. ("The only modern thing you need is a Kleenex tissue!") Ana Maria offers wise Latina advice gleaned from -- what else? -- having an enormous family! Dozens and dozens of aunts, uncles and cousins, who are apparently the only thing she ever thinks about, apart from tending to strange young white men who show up at her door unable to cope with the common cold.
By this point, I was wincing as I clicked on track-suited African-American mom Lisa, just waiting to count the head snaps. She was a bit of a surprise in that her shtick is all about being handy with a glue gun and power tools, as opposed to a sharp tongue and a wagging finger. Nevertheless, her pitch to be your fake mom manages to hit the sassy, preternaturally strong, and happy-go-lucky stereotypes all at once. "They call me supermom!" she chuckles -- but that title really belongs to Veronica, the oldest of the bunch and only one who hints at having a job outside the home. (Her vitals are written out for us on what looks like a business card, rather than what looks like a grocery list.) Veronica is the efficient multitasker, the Martha Stewart on crack, who can make you soup, tuck you into bed, plan a dinner party for eight, close a million-dollar deal and redecorate the living room all before lunch. Because, of course, the only way a woman can work outside the home and remain a good mom (to perfect strangers) is if she puts 110 percent effort into everything, including all of the expected domestic duties, thereby "having it all." All except a free moment to herself, ever.
But wait, don't punch that screen yet! I haven't even gotten to the worst one. That would have to be Jessica, the semi-fashionable blonde who looks about five years older than the dude in the commercial, max. The Kleenex folks don't come right out and say "MILF," just that "Jessica is more like a friend than a mom," wants you to call her by her first name, "likes to do the same stuff you do" and "can remind you of what you need to do without being a nag." Translation: Jocasta Jessica is more like a girlfriend than a mom. And yet, still fully committed to mothering you! It's the best of all possible worlds, if you're a stunted adolescent with a lot of Freudian shit to work out.
Look, the underlying premise here is both relatable and not terribly objectionable: No matter how old we are, we all want our mommies when we get sick. (And, apparently, when we're on "Fresh Air.") But there's a crucial difference between wanting our own mommies and wanting some idealized caricature of motherhood who can be exchanged for a more pleasing caricature the moment she does something irritating. One is human nature, the other is dehumanizing, sexist crap. I understand I'm not the target market here, and that a Man Cold is a far more severe illness than my lady brain can even fathom (see below), but I'd like this campaign a whole lot more if it offered at least one remotely realistic mom. Like the kind who takes one look at this guy, rolls her eyes and says, "You're 25 years old, are you kidding me? Take a decongestant and suck it up!"
(Via Shakesville.)
As further proof that Americans can find a way to profit off of anything, a new Starbucks ad attempts to sell coffee by lampooning the contentious healthcare reform town halls that garnered national attention all summer.
The ad (a teaser is below, while the full version can be watched here) is for Starbucks' new instant coffee Via. It shows a series of groups of people who can't tell the difference between Starbucks' regular coffee and the new version. The ad is attempting to say that all sorts of people, from nurses to Civil War reenactors to people with "yellow belts" will find Via as satisfying as regular Starbucks. The ad then concludes with a man standing up at a town hall meeting and yelling, "I can't taste the difference."
So is Starbucks attempting to exploit America's political divisions for its own benefit? Or is the ad a savvy way to portray Starbucks coffee as a product that appeals to everyone? And will conservatives hate Starbucks and all its East Coast, Ivy-League educated, latte-sipping elite customers even more now? (And are they right to do so, since the place burns its coffee, which is overpriced anyway?) Tell us what you think.
You've seen this ad a million times before: There's a massive pool party going on, but one poor, timid dude is floating, alone and forlorn, on an inflatable raft. Suddenly, a bikini-clad hot chick makes a grand entrance, her ample breasts jiggling with every step she takes. Everyone -- men, women, a perplexing group of guys in sailor costumes who seem to fit a particularly offensive gay stereotype -- pause, mid-conversation, to gawk as she passes. The words "You know you like them" flash across the screen. Finally, the girl stops in front of the lonely guy, leans over, and shakes her boobs in his general direction. "Now," we learn, "it's time to save them."
That's when we realize that this isn't a Budweiser commercial, after all. It's a PSA called "Save the Boobs" (posted below) for Canada's Rethink Breast Cancer charity. The clip ends with the words, "Breast cancer is the leading cause of cancer death in young women ages 20-49" and then a quick, wet T-shirt contest-inspired shot advertising an event called "Boobyball."
"The goal is to get men to care about breast cancer," says Alina Cho at CNN (video) of the ad, before confidently editorializing: "This certainly will be effective in that realm." She reports that Rethink Breast Cancer's founder hopes the ad will reach younger men. "Young people," she says, "are picking up pamphlets with a 65-year-old woman on them, probably tossing them out." (Because, hey, no one gives a shit when some old hag gets cancer, am I right?) "She says this is a bold and fun way to communicate the message that will 'stop them in their tracks.'" According to Cho, the group's founder believes the PSA will encourage men to help their wives and girlfriends check for breast cancer -- despite the fact that the ad never includes such a suggestion, even though it would have been easy to build in. ("Like boobs? Why not spend more time touching them? Help your girlfriend check for breast cancer.")
But what really bothers me about the PSA, aside from the obvious -- how problematic it is to sexualize cancer, the implication that only hot girls with nice racks are worth caring about -- is its cynicism toward young men. Does Rethink Breast Cancer really believe that the only way to make guys care is to slap together a sexy ad with a boobs-to-information ratio that's downright offensive? Is it impossible to believe that men's interest in breast cancer research might go beyond the selfish desire to "Save the boobs"? I'm all for reaching out to get as many people involved in the fight against breast cancer as possible. I just don't think insulting men's intelligence is the way to do it.
The bathing suit-clad babe lounges poolside on her stomach, perhaps because sitting isn’t an option today, and makes a sultry confession. “I got it in the can for the first time last night. I loved it.”
Since nobody turned on "The Howard Stern Show" this morning, her candor can mean only one thing. Beer commercial!
The Bud Light Lime ad, the brainchild of DDB, goes on to depict a variety of male and female pitchers and receivers, including a bartender who’s “been giving it to everyone in the can all week” and a blowsy young blonde who’s “lost track how many times I’ve had it in the can.”
Combine the ad’s risqué message with a visual on Anheuser Busch’s Web site that not so subtly calls to mind getting it in the pop top, one understands why Bud chose to brand this particular product as “the good time lime.” Limes: truly the sluttiest members of the citrus family.
Welcome to the brave new world of branding, where advertisers don’t need no stinkin’ editorial controls to plumb the depths of their own tastelessness. Envelopes are still harder to push in magazines and television, hence Bud Lime’s alternate ads featuring healthy young people dancing, playing volleyball and grabbing their surfboards to the hipster strains of Santogold.
But traditional outlets aren’t enough these days, and advertisers are increasingly wooing consumers with their, ahem, backdoor strategies. Bud’s CEO Dave Peacock said last month, “What drives pop culture doesn't necessarily emanate from television anymore, it comes from digital.” The brewer has been an innovator in that realm, offering a bleep-heavy "Swear Jar” spot and a much-forwarded, blush-inducing bit featuring the escalating humiliation of a regular Joe purchasing a six-pack and some porn. The ads aren’t remarkable for much besides their shock value, but there is something weirdly liberating about the Bud ads nevertheless, their grown-up acknowledgment that men and women alike curse, consume porn, use safewords, play with sex toys, and occasionally take trips where the sun doesn’t shine. Personally, I’d pick sodomy over a flavored light beer any day, but it’s nice to have options.
But does an ad’s buzz translate into anybody actually getting buzzed? As AdAge pointed out recently, thanks to the recession and fickle, younger consumers, Bud Light is this year facing its first ever sales decline. Attracting attention is easy -- just make a few entendres that barely qualify as double and wait for the knowing gasps. Selling suds in a weak economy? Turns out it’s a real pain in the ass.
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