Showing posts with label faux. Show all posts
Showing posts with label faux. Show all posts

You the Critic: Shaw Floors and Campbell's soup revisited

Pardon the apparent redundancy from my last post, but here I want to step back (In reverse fashion, that was the cart; this is the horse) and ask open-ended questions about the two magazine ads I showed. Just pretend that you've never seen them.

Questions:

  1. Both ads are running in current publications. What do you think about the simultaneous affirmation of faux (read "fake") products and real products?
  2. Are there moral implications in either or both of these messages?
  3. Are the ads equal or unequal in their care for neighbor?
Answer all three or one that resonates. If you've never commented on a blog before, simply click a comment link at the bottom of this post.

Click on the images to enlarge them.

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On the co-existence of Shaw Floors and Campbell's soup

Faux or Real? I've asked the question many times here and even got flack for one particular rant on the subject. I return so often to this question because I'm interested in more than a simple identification exercise or an occurrence tabulation. (By the way, any idea if faux would win the prevalence prize on a night of TV ads?)

In particular, I'm interested in the question's relevance to us as consumers and human beings. I've included two magazine ads below - one for a faux product and one for a real product - that jointly raise questions about What We Want and Whether What We Want is Good for Us. I hope the co-existence of these two images and the questions they ask are as interesting to you as they are to me.

Here is the first, for Shaw Floors (Click on the images for a larger view):

The copy reads, "I want a floor that will give my home a look that normally takes decades to earn." This is classic faux. Granted, I find the room wonderfully appealing. Old wood takes me somewhere when I see it in antique furniture and aged floorboards. But I need to deny myself of this old looking product. Give me the real thing or give me something else altogether.

What We Want is the item we can't afford (real Hickory); a time we can't grasp (100 years ago?); or, most often and unfortunately, a status we can't attain. Yet how many of us claim these reasons as our own when we consider a product like Shaw flooring? Faux is so common and so accepted - even affirmed - that we rarely consider our human desires that lie beneath the surface.

In a Country Home magazine feature called "Wood Looks," the writer asked:
"What's real wood? What's not? We applaud the technological advances that make it more and more difficult to tell real maple, pine, cherry, walnut, and hickory from its less-expensive laminate, vinyl, and engineered-wood substitutes."
The example of technology working to replicate the unattainable reminds me of Stuart Ewen's analysis in All Consuming Images:
"Fueled by their desire for franchise and status, the merchant class [beginning in the middle ages] mimicked and appropriated consumption practices of the nobility.... Conspicuous consumption...was the mark of status. In a world where nobility still ruled, the merchant class seized upon symbols of excess which had customarily been prerogatives of landed elites…style was becoming something one could acquire.... Clocks, once the extravagantly tooled possessions of the few who could afford to own them, were mass produced [with 'the suggestion of fine hand-carving']....
For the members of an expanding middle class, the historically coded look of wealth was coming within their means."

Is What We Want Good for Us?
I've had many conversations about the role and value of faux products. I'm not a fan, personally, and marketers, more than others it seems, push back on this position. "It's less expensive," some advocate. Others endorse the buying and selling of it in terms of compassion: "If a customer can't afford the real, why deny him of enjoying the look of real?"

Fair question. And one that is ironically and increasingly addressed by the marketing world itself. You've heard the answer if you've heard Wendy's jingle, "You know when it's real." Wendy's playful spot (by Kaplan Thaler, New York) unveils one faux item after another and ends with a strong affirmation that consumers value authenticity and genuineness. Real is what we want because we know - when it comes to food, at least - that it's good for us. Real food is better than faux food.

The second print ad is for Campbell's Select Harvest soup:

Here, Campbell's claims "Real Ingredients. Real Taste." I did need a dictionary for several items in the Progresso ingredient list, and though I still can't confirm the genuineness of those items, Campbell's infers that Progesso uses faux additives, which - we're fairly scientifically certain - is a bad idea.

Neither Wendy's nor Campbell's applaud faux. Yet Shaw's does, and we don't wonder if faux is good or bad for us there. Frankly, we don't care. But should we? 

Why my floor matters
Faux interacts with us. In whatever product form, its marketability and success indicate a human longing for what is real. The plug for real says we want real. The plug for faux also says we want real. This is why I stated that these print ads jointly raise questions. They co-exist under the same premise.  

Perhaps, therefore, the second question ought to be restated since what we want is good for us. We want authenticity and genuineness - in food, floors, family, friendships and faith. A better question might be, Is What We Buy Good for Us?

In the cases of Shaw Floors and hydrogenated soybean oil, I'll have to say no.

Other posts on faux:
Great Gifts Faux This Christmas!
Locks of Love: Friend or Faux?

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Chicken or the Egg?

In my rantings last week, I sentenced "Kingdom Under the Sea" to the knock-off pile. I was quickly reprimanded by an observant reader, and I need to make a correction.

The Christian Christmas catalog where I saw this children's video had put me in a foulish mood, not unlike the mood I get in when observing any kind of faux product: kitchen floor laminates, "pleather," Forever Lawns (see pic), and most of the home decorating items at Wal-Mart.

Without doing the necessary homework, I hastily accused the makers of "Kingdom Under the Sea" of stealing ideas from "Finding Nemo." While I don't really know which came first, I do know the following:

Kingdom's release date: 2000
Nemo's release date: 2003

Kingdom's conception date: ?
Nemo's conception date: 1994

Which came first? Did one pull ideas from the other or are the similarities coincidental? Probably coincidental. Regardless, the brain-children behind these two projects are innocent until proven guilty - and they are creative, too!

Check out David Mulhern's creative work on "Kingdom" here, and read an interview with Andrew Stanton, creator of "Finding Nemo," here. (Stanton's interview is about "WALL-E," but the "Nemo" date is there and the Q&A reveals how Stanton's Christian faith shapes his work.)

Can you blame me for making this assumption after pages of look-a-likes in the Christmas catalog? Well..., probably. My frustration should have raised a caution flag before publishing the post. Having said this, I still hope you will work hard to market products and shop for products that reflect God's infinite creativity and originality. And tell your friends:

"Say NO to faux!"

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Great gifts faux this Christmas!

I just received a religious Christmas catalog in the mail and I need to vent. Perhaps you already know how I cringe at faux products. If not, you can read a few posts here. Fakes, posers, wannabes, simulations - none of these make sense to me, especially when it comes to Christianity and marketing.

My first complaint is about the products themselves and those who consume them, and the second is about the advertisers who promote them.

1. Buy pagan gifts "faux" your family this Christmas!

Item A: "Nemo finds Jesus." (OK, "Kingdom Under the Sea")

My rantings: What's wrong with the movie "Finding Nemo"? And why pick an orange clownfish and not any of the other millions of creatures in the sea? And why is the evil character in this take-off video series called Krakken? Granted, Kraken (with one fewer "k") has been around for several centuries as a giant marine creature who wrecks ships and all, but did someone just happen to watch "Pirates of the Caribbean" the night before and decide to go on a venture by adding a "k"? By the way, my seven year old just walked into my office and asked what I was doing. I told her and she said, "So, it's like somebody erased the words 'Finding Nemo' and wrote 'Kingdom Under the Sea'?" I'd say that's pretty close.

Item B: Bratz (No, wait, I mean God's Girlz. The "z" threw me off.)

My rantings: The package shown here says Sarah's Bible name means "Princess." Does knowing etymology make this toy more righteous? And how about the Christianese saying on her shirt, complete with Scripture reference? (Abigail, the guitar-playing God's Girl, has "Pick Jesus" on her top. Get it? Guitar...Pick Jesus...?) Supposedly, God's Girlz are "designed to encourage thoughtful play." Really? Give a kid any toy - Barbie, Bratz, God's Girlz, or even fashion-decorated wooden spoons - and they're going to play the same.

Item C: GoBible

My rantings: I have no problem with listening to the Bible on headphones, but besides the product design between the GoBible and the iPod being overly similar, you could save $100 by downloading the same content straight to your iPod. AND watch Pirates (or a better Johnny Depp movie like "Chocolat").


Item D: Guitar Praise

My rantings: So you don't want youth group kids singing the handful of questionable tunes on Guitar Hero. Great. But do you have to create completely separate content? Hasn't this been a criticism of CCM over the years? We know there's plenty of beneficial secular music and plenty of theologically shaky religious music out there. What would be wrong with a sacred/secular mix that would benefit and challenge listeners rather than cordon them off from the rest of the world? Besides, if youth leaders have been so willing to bring in the bad already, wouldn't they be even more willing to bring in the thoughtful?

Now you know a few items I won't be buying this Christmas. Please recognize how thoughtless these kitchy knock-offs are. As you do, I hope you'll give the companies your opinion by contacting them or at least by refraining from supporting them with your money.

Now for my second venting point.

2. Frank Lloyd Wright called - he wants his creativity back.

OK, I'm being a tad mean. But marketers, c'mon. If this is all you can do as an employee for the Kingdom, you need to enter another line of work. Creativity is a gift and ought to be used as a reflection of God's own creativity. When you mimic what's already been made, you commit two violations. First, you steal from another's work. That's bad enough. And second, you tell the world that Christians don't have an innovative bone in their bodies. Think about it: This type of activity declares that growth in the faith is best achieved by following whatever secular practices gather fans, and then adopting those practices. That isn't creativity. It's a statement that non-Christians have nothing good regarding content but everything good regarding form.

We need a new approach for sure.

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The real thing

This James Dean is one of several celebrity look-a-likes in the new magazine campaign for Armstrong Laminate flooring. As the tag-line goes, "It only looks like the real thing."















In contrast, check out this Tostitos ad:






















Questions to consider:
1. Imagine the Armstrong ad without any copy: What product do you think is being sold?

2. How does the photo's composition affect the "realness" of the floor?

3. In the Tostitos ad, how important is the copy? What does the image say by itself?

4. What's the selling point in both ads?

5. Does it matter to consumers whether a product is real or only perceived to be real? Does it matter to you whether the product is real or not?

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Locks of Love: Friend or Faux?

I'm sort of an itinerant critic and encourager. Each semester I travel to speak in a handful of college classrooms where I offer criticism and affirmation regarding both the ad world and the approach students take as they prepare to enter it.

Of course, this assumes I know what to criticize and what to affirm. It assumes that I have something definitive to say; that I'm able to put a period at the end of all my sentences. But this isn't always true. In fact, I often have to use an ellipse.

The subtext of advertising is replete with ethical questions and social concerns. Sometimes it pushes advertising into the light to promote good will, but often it lurks in the shadows as manipulative propaganda. The continual need to seek wisdom about every product, campaign, account, client, line of copy, media plan, etc., is challenging work.

I've been posting about faux products recently because of a few classes I taught this month. If you've read any of them, you know that I'm not a fan of faux.

But in the midst of talking about "pleather" and "diamonelles" and vinyl flooring and toupees (My grandfather wore an atrocious rug-like piece of material on his head for years. On anyone else, I would have suggested adding a clown nose, but it was my grandfather and I had never seen him without it so it seemed quite normal.), a student asked:

"But what about Locks of Love?"

I didn't know.

I still don't know. It's an ellipse for me. Locks of Love "provides hairpieces to financially disadvantaged children under age 18 suffering from long-term medical hair loss from any diagnosis." On one hand, what an intimate and generous ministry: You and I give our own hair to needy kids.

On the other, the hairpieces are used "to return a sense of self, confidence and normalcy to children suffering from hair loss...." Doesn't this sound similar to why people wear make-up and use Botox and trick out their cars? I mean, don't we do these things "to return a sense of self, confidence and normalcy to [men and women] suffering from [insecurity]..."?

So I'm stuck on this one. Hairpieces are toupees and my grandfather wore his for some of the same reasons why these kids wear theirs. In his case, I condemn the faux. Yet, they're kids. This is a time when their identities are soft and easily bruised. Isn't it OK to let them fit in and to protect them from embarrassment and ridicule from peers, especially with such a visible problem? In their case, I think I condone the faux.

If Locks of Love called you to help them with PR or securing TV spots or increasing brand awareness, I'm guessing you'd do it. I might, too.

Or, would I suggest that the child's friends and family shave their heads bald instead of donating pony tails? Without having a child in that situation, and never having been in such a situation myself as a kid, I don't know.

This is just one of the ellipses for me in advertising. As I asked in an earlier post, "Should Christians produce and market faux items, or not? (Or does it depend on what the faux item is?)"

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"But what about...?"

On the topic of faux, so many questions start with these words.

"But what about replica paintings, especially when people can't afford the originals?"
"But what about vinyl flooring, especially when the marble print complements a kitchen?"

This three-word phrase indicates curiosity. But not in some trivial way. When it comes to faux products, regardless of what purpose they serve, the element of simulation is a genuinely difficult one for marketing students to get around.

As kids, it was hammered into our heads not to lie. In relationships, we're convinced that being "real" about our feelings is much better than pretending that all's well. Regarding public appearance, individual expression is valued because then it's Me being Me (Does anybody actually like being a Poser?).

We believe that genuine is inherently better, but there are faux versions of practically every genuine product, and their allure and accessibility make them quite profitable. Does "But what about..." appear when the possibility of profit and success runs into our broader misgivings about being false?

These thoughts have come from several stimulating conversations with marketing classes in the past week or so. I'll share more soon.

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Faux: Part Deux

"Should Christians produce and market faux items?" That's the question I asked in my last post. I also asked it to a group of advertising students on Friday.

Mixed responses.

Some thought that the cost benefits and availability justified faux production: "If a consumer really likes fine furniture, but can't afford it or even find the genuine original, isn't it OK to provide knock-off versions for them?"

Others saw faux as an unhealthy way to copy someone else's life. They resonated with this excerpt by Stuart Ewen, author of All Consuming Images, about the "triumph of the superficial" in the Middle Ages:

"Fueled by their desire for franchise and status, the merchant class mimicked and appropriated consumption practices of the nobility.... Conspicuous consumption...was the mark of status. In a world where nobility still ruled, the merchant class seized upon symbols of excess which had customarily been prerogatives of landed elites.... Clocks, once the extravagantly tooled possessions of the few who could afford to own them, were mass produced [with 'the suggestion of fine hand-carving'].... For the members of an expanding middle class, the historically coded look of wealth was coming within their means."

If faux offers a socio-economic escape for me, then I don't want it because it's only an illusory move. That is, it doesn't actually take me anywhere. And regarding the cost/availability argument, I just can't get past the fact that faux is, by definition, false.

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To Be or To Be Faux

Two questions:

1) Is the grass real or faux?




















It's faux (French for "false"). See more pics at Forever Lawn, Inc.

2) Should Christians produce and market faux items, or not? (Or does it depend on what the faux item is?)

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