Friday, June 22, 2007

Smells like frontal lobotomy.



I know this ad is fairly old, but every time I see it I'm struck by how Sarah Jessica Parker's eyes seem to be wandering independently of each other. Which, incidentally, is a side effect of watching a Sex and the City marathon. Or one episode, really.

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

Uh-oh, she's going to talk about vaginas again.

You know, the funny thing about this blog is that I was initially going to use it as a way for potential employers to see how I write outside the world of advertising. And instead, I spent my first post talking about orifices, and now I'm about to talk about sexual issues AGAIN, and I'm also going to talk about advertising. This is not exactly going to plan.

Ohwelltoobad. So! A few days ago, the San Francisco Chronicle ran an article about a non-profit called About-Face, who maintains that our culture's emphasis on physical appearance creates a "toxic media environment" for women and girls. True enough! Ultimately, what the constant bombardment of impossible physical ideals does is distract us from directing our efforts toward more important (not to mention more
achievable!) goals: educating ourselves, building a career, being a good, compassionate human being. We get stuck on the hamster wheel, chasing after the unattainable ideal of beauty. For some of us, it's practically a second (or third, or fourth) job. And we fatten the wallets of the very companies that feed on our insecurities.

BUT. There was something in About Face Executive Director Jennifer Berger's comments that rubbed me the wrong way. There are really two issues going on here: Women being encouraged to focus on their looks over the substance of their character AND our culture's narrow idea of what constitutes sexual attractiveness. These issues are certainly entwined, but Berger conflates them:

After centuries of objectification, Berger says, it's really hard for women to think of their bodies in terms of how they help them live: Legs that give them the power to walk, lungs that give them the ability to breath, etc.

Berger goes on to say: "'Talk about not stylish -- that is so not cool to think about all the things your body does for you! I sound like a kindergarten teacher when I say that, but it's completely necessary to think about your body that way. Once we start thinking about our bodies that way, we'll stop abusing them the way we do, with constant dieting and constant criticism and constant putting them up for show.'"

Unfortunately, what Berger never touches on is that we DO put our bodies up for show. We are sexual creatures. We use our bodies to attract potential mates, just as we use them to breathe and walk. The answer to a society that defines sexual attractiveness in ridiculous terms is not to reject the idea of being sexually attractive or the importance of it. The answer is to redefine what is considered sexually attractive. And cultures around the world been doing that for centuries. So let's get crackin', I say!

To see what I mean about About-Face missing the mark, take a look at the Gallery of Offenders on the About-Face website. What you've got here is a lot of ads from brands like BCBG, Skyy Vodka and Loreal. Brands that are going to go after your desire to be sexually attractive. Then look at the Gallery of Winners. Here you've got brands like Talbots and Keds, i.e. brands that DON'T traditionally go after your desire to be sexy. So. It would seem that the message here is not that the offenders are offering up unrealistic ideals of sexual attractiveness—their crime is that they're showing female sexuality, period! Now, in the Gallery of Winners gallery, there is an image of a curvy girl in her skivvies, but that's because she's selling plus-size skivvies. So, it's not exactly an example of Aphrodite reinvented.

Oh, and a couple more things. This post insists that the following ad encourages women not to work and helps justify violence against women.



















Um, yeah. And this one insists the model is supposed to be a corpse, again encouraging violence against women.



Both posts are neither helpful nor correct. Just as we do not want our daughters to grow up thinking they need to be tall, blonde and skinny to be attractive, we don't want them to grow up irrational and flailingly accusatory, with poor skills of analysis.

Sunday, June 10, 2007

Cue intro.

Hello, and welcome to my blog, um, three random people who Googled "Dinosaur." I'm a little nervous. But I promise things'll get rolling here in a minute. You may have to skip ahead a few posts to where I've finally loosened up a bit and am no longer paralyzed by the fear that I might write something stupid. By my third post, I will probably be on my third martini and saying all manner of stupid and entertaining things. But this is still the first post, so we're just going to start slow. Like, Wisconsin suburb slow. See, I recently went home to visit my folks (whoa, when I tried to write "recent" right there, I accidentally typed "resent." What's that all about? Stay tuned for my next post!) and I took a photo of something that I think might make a good jumping off point for elucidating My Worldview. Or something.






So this picture hangs on the wall at the bottom of stairs at my parents' house in Wauwatosa, Wisconsin. I made it during college, while I was visiting home and stewing about a certain boyfriend in a certain band who clearly preferred the company of his guitar of the company of his girl (all together, ladies: "Like all boys in bands!"). Since it was clear he'd rather bone his own guitar and rock star ambitions, I was trying to convince myself that I was through with him. And I made this, um, let's call it a painting, I guess, as a sort of relationship cleansing. Or psychotic (yet artsy!) temper tantrum. Anyway, my mom dug it out of the trash. And because I had played cello for many years, she assumed it was some sort of homage to the cello. To the Surrealist Cello Goddess of Eros, I guess.

Anyway, she apparently loved it as only a mother could, and she had it tastefully framed. Next time I came home, she was all, "Surprise! I hung that cello painting you made up on the wall for everyone to see! Doesn't it look GREAT? I can't believe you wanted to throw it out!" Regardless of the fact that I am now reminded of one of the worst relationships I've ever had every time I descend the stairs, I am probably more disturbed that my parents wanted to hang something so...so orificial. I mean, LOOK AT THE VAGINA! IT'S HUGE! (Note: the vagina is the stylized bit near her bum, NOT the gigantic, also-orificial, blurry sound hole, which a cello doesn't even have, by the way. Cellos have something called "F-holes." Stop laughing.) Oh, and this thing hangs not ten feet from Mom's "God bless this mess" needlepoint, I kid you not.

Actually, the more I think about it, the more I can't really escape it: I'm kinda touched.