Saturday, 17 October 2015

The mysterious case of the disappearing warm & fuzzies

So there I was the other day, gently pootling around in my kitchen with the telly on in the background, adverts running their subliminal messaging, barely disturbing my washing up reverie... That was until the refrain of Alicia Keys caught my attention. I turned to the black box of glory as a befreckled, curly haired ginger lass appears on screen. She’s looking at her sporting idol on her iPad, until her mum comes over, they share a moment as the mother introduces her to her childhood sporting idol, and they share a blissful 30 seconds of mother daughter bonding, celebrating fantastic women through the years, all brought to you by the power of high speedbroadband. Ahhhh. How lovely I thought, go on with your female empowerment and celebration, all brought to you by Virgin Media for only…. Wait. High speed internet?! Hang on there just a minute billy bob! They’re after my cash! My reverie was shattered, my advertising agency induced fuzzies disappeared, leaving me with a distinct sense of being had.

You see the thing is, I won’t disagree, female empowerment is to be celebrated, as is female sporting achievement. And mother daughter bonding is a great thing, as is the vision of women publicly & easily using tech. However, what I almost forgot in my advertising trance is that this is no warming scene of mother daughter bonding; this is a TV advert, hijacking my warm fuzzies in an effort to get my (presumably pink) wallet out of my teeny tiny handbag and make me buy something. Gah, I thought to myself, I was fooled! My warm fuzzies were manipulated! How dare you! I switched my telly off in a pique of feminist fury and on with my washing up I went… (and if any of you dare point out that irony, trust me, you’ll have more than just pique on your hands).

The thing is, this isn’t a new thing. It has name and everything…. FEMVERTISING. Ugh. It makes me shudder just typing it. The Dove beauty campaigns have been doing it for years, boosting our buying confidence by showing us proud Dove using women of all shapes and sizes. The Always advert hit the headlines earlier this year with the #likeagirl campaign, challenging people to take back the assumptions of what it means to do something like a girl, and reclaim it as a positive thing…. But let us not forget, they were still trying to get viewers to buy pantyliners and racking up 50m+ YouTube hits in an effort to do so.

I guess the thing is, I’m not annoyed purely by these adverts, they are after all symptomatic of further frustrations. It is a fantastic thing that there is a fourth wave of feminism crashing on the shores of the world, but advertising companies are using that wave to target the majority users of the product they are selling (whether that be tampons or high heels) and in the majority, the controllers of the household budgets. These companies have to make their money, and femvertising (there goes that shudder again) appears to be a good way of doing it.

However what would be better, and a massive step in the right direction, would be if there didn’t have to be these campaigns to begin with.  If companies didn’t HAVE TO induce the warm fuzzies when you see a young girl celebrating a sporting hero on the internet, because a female sporting hero should be celebrated in the mainstream anyways. Likewise, women being proud of their shapes and sizes ought not to be a novelty on our TV or movie screens, it should be our normality. And advertising more than just beauty products at a female audience shouldn’t have to make me turn my head in surprise, because guess what, we make up 50% of the consumer market out there, and we have money to spend too.

As Laura Bates of the BRILLIANT Everyday Sexism campaign says “while I applaud progress, wouldn't it be nice to live in a world where we didn't have to celebrate ad campaigns that give children equal access to toys or don't present women in a sexist way -- because [those things were] just the norm?". And to be perfectly honest, I couldn’t agree with her more…




Tuesday, 6 October 2015

All groan up

Take a seat peeps, for surely these are momentous times. It’s the anniversary to trump all anniversaries, because you’ve guessed it. It’s the 20th anniversary of the birth of HOLLYOAKS! Yes. folks, it really has been around THAT long. You see there was a time, way back in the shrouded mists of 1995 where the British youth were crying out in one voice – bring us cheap TV, set in Chester! Bring us the early incarnation of scouse brows, tight lycra and implausible plot lines! Bring us…! Ok, we didn't want anyone to bring us any of the above, any more than we wanted platform trainers, hooch hard lemonade and Robson & Jerome, but it came nevertheless… and as witnessed by the anniversary, it has stayed.
Just your average day at Hollyoaks High

And I concede, as an anniversary it’s hardly worthy of a Great British Menu banquet, but to me this Hollyoaks-ary IS significant. I’ve not watched Hollyoaks since about 1998 (who would? All the orange skin, wobbly sets and even wobblier acting is enough to put you off Channel 4 forever), plus I’m hardly the demographic they are seeking in their ‘just back from school, but racier than Blue Peter' time slot. But that’s the nub of the matter you see. There WAS a time when I was that demographic, and today’s momentous news has just hammered home to me one rather depressing fact…. I’m getting old.

I’ll be honest, this is not the first time I’ve had to come face to face with my own decrepidity. I seem to have been steadily ticking off the checkpoints of age with alarming regularity, not least my recent 35th birthday. But while someone whose name I can’t remember (it’s the early onset Alzheimers dear) may have said that age aint nothing but a number (glossing over the double negatives), I’ve noticed that there are a few other ageing milestones I’ve been ticking off with alarming regularity, most notably:

 - Realising I make a certain grasping, creaking noise whenever I stand up after being sat in a comfy chair

 - Realising I make the exact opposite noise when I sit back down in said comfy chair

 - Getting excited to cook a roast dinner, not because of the roast itself, but because I can make a good stock afterwards

 - Being mildly perturbed by the hairstyles of 99% of the xFactor contestants (except the 'Overs', natch)

 - Claiming Thursday night is the new Friday night, then spending both on my sofa snarking at the telly via Twitter

 -  Considering my Sunday morning hangover before I've started my Saturday night drinking

 - Shouting the answers (often incorrect ones at that) at the TV during university challenge

 - Having at least 2 bottles of wine in the fridge at all times, and one bottle of port in the booze cupboard

 - Actually having a booze cupboard… and a well stocked one at that!

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not hitting pension age just yet. I still love my festivals, gigs, nights out with mates, house parties and all the rest. It's just I like to know there's comfortable seating wherever I'm doing it. Definitely a sign of impending creakiness I think. 

But of course the classic sign of getting older is realising you’re showing all the classic signs and not really caring, so that’s where I’m now at. Happily ensconced on my sofa (or in my kitchen making stock), not raging it up as I used to & raging at the TV instead (or children playing noisily outside my window) and keeping the noise level low. Basically, I’m turning into my mother…. Except slightly more annoyed it seems. Am I happy with that? Well a 15 year old, Hollyoaks watching me would be furious at the idea of it, but the 35 year old me is much more accepting of the idea, which perhaps is the biggest sign of growing old of all.