scraggly and unwashed, and our teeth were rotted and yellow? I can’t help but think back to a classic L’Oréal ad in which an older man is walking down the street. To our eyes, he looks great—dapper and distinguished. The camera then cuts to a beautiful younger woman passing him by. And through her eyes we see him as old, decrepit, and repulsive—his worst-feared self realized.
Sometimes, advertisers prey on our fears of our worst selves by activating insecurities that we didn’t even know we had—like about the appearance of our armpits. This is exactly what Dove’s recent “Go Sleeveless” ad campaign was doing; by claiming that their new special moisturizing formula will make our underarms “not only odor free but prettier,” Dove was subconsciously planting the fear that our armpitsmight be not only smelly but also hideous. As
Slate
aptly pointed out, “Dove’s empowerment-via-shame marketing approach for Go Sleeveless has its roots in advertising techniques that gained popularity in the 1920s: a) pinpoint a problem, perhaps one consumers didn’t even know they had; b) exacerbate anxiety around the problem; c) sell the cure.” Among the many “feared selves” that have been historically planted by marketers, the article cites such concerns as “bad breath,” “smelly underarms,” and “the many troubles down there.” 25
What else frightens us nowadays? A lot. Most of us are scared about the economy, of losing our jobs, and of defaulting on our mortgages. We’re scared that our spouse or partner might leave us. We’re scared of loneliness and having no friends. We’re afraid of sexual inadequacy. Of getting cancer. Of getting old and breaking a hip. Of death. We’re scared of driving and we’re scared of flying. We’re scared of terrorists and of global warming. We’re scared of the bright sun and the dark night. We’re afraid of
E. coli
bacteria in our beef, hormones in our milk, and mercury in our fish. We’re scared of viruses infecting our computers and our water supplies. We’re scared of earthquakes quite literally shifting the ground beneath our feet and of our children being abducted by strangers in cars. We’re scared that we talk too much or too little, that we dress badly, that our nails are unclean and our hair wayward. Or that no one will tell us about the piece of kale in our teeth, or that while we strive to be charming and amusing, we’re actually fatally unfunny . . . and everyone knows it but us. According to Gavin Johnston, a behavioral science–based branding consultant, many brands prey on what anthropologists dub “panoramic fear”—namely, “an overwhelming sense that control has been lost, prompting consumers to scramble to find any kind of comfort they can.” 26
It’s these seemingly infinite fears—some planted in our minds by marketers and advertisers, others merely amplified by them—that drive us to buy triple-moisturizing creams and heat-safe leave-in conditioners, teeth-whitening strips and multivitamins. Not to mention gym memberships and organic food and bottled water and humidifiers (and dehumidifiers) and designer clothing and Viagra and earthquake insurance and water-filtration systems and plastic surgery and bike locks and . . . burglar alarms.
“If You’re a Lady, Most Men Want to Kill You”
P icture this: You’re a single, twentysomething female in a skimpy T-shirt and sweats, ready to work out at home to a yoga DVD when you hear suspicious noises coming from outside. Or you’re a teenage girl home alone at night, convinced you hear the sound of keys jiggling in the downstairs lock. Or you’re a mother preparing dinner while your kids play in the yard, and you’ve failed to notice the suspicious-looking fellow lurking near the garage. Or perhaps you’re a recent divorcée who’s just been flirting with a charming hunk at your house party and are startled, once the house has emptied out, to see this same hunk
Sometimes, advertisers prey on our fears of our worst selves by activating insecurities that we didn’t even know we had—like about the appearance of our armpits. This is exactly what Dove’s recent “Go Sleeveless” ad campaign was doing; by claiming that their new special moisturizing formula will make our underarms “not only odor free but prettier,” Dove was subconsciously planting the fear that our armpitsmight be not only smelly but also hideous. As
Slate
aptly pointed out, “Dove’s empowerment-via-shame marketing approach for Go Sleeveless has its roots in advertising techniques that gained popularity in the 1920s: a) pinpoint a problem, perhaps one consumers didn’t even know they had; b) exacerbate anxiety around the problem; c) sell the cure.” Among the many “feared selves” that have been historically planted by marketers, the article cites such concerns as “bad breath,” “smelly underarms,” and “the many troubles down there.” 25
What else frightens us nowadays? A lot. Most of us are scared about the economy, of losing our jobs, and of defaulting on our mortgages. We’re scared that our spouse or partner might leave us. We’re scared of loneliness and having no friends. We’re afraid of sexual inadequacy. Of getting cancer. Of getting old and breaking a hip. Of death. We’re scared of driving and we’re scared of flying. We’re scared of terrorists and of global warming. We’re scared of the bright sun and the dark night. We’re afraid of
E. coli
bacteria in our beef, hormones in our milk, and mercury in our fish. We’re scared of viruses infecting our computers and our water supplies. We’re scared of earthquakes quite literally shifting the ground beneath our feet and of our children being abducted by strangers in cars. We’re scared that we talk too much or too little, that we dress badly, that our nails are unclean and our hair wayward. Or that no one will tell us about the piece of kale in our teeth, or that while we strive to be charming and amusing, we’re actually fatally unfunny . . . and everyone knows it but us. According to Gavin Johnston, a behavioral science–based branding consultant, many brands prey on what anthropologists dub “panoramic fear”—namely, “an overwhelming sense that control has been lost, prompting consumers to scramble to find any kind of comfort they can.” 26
It’s these seemingly infinite fears—some planted in our minds by marketers and advertisers, others merely amplified by them—that drive us to buy triple-moisturizing creams and heat-safe leave-in conditioners, teeth-whitening strips and multivitamins. Not to mention gym memberships and organic food and bottled water and humidifiers (and dehumidifiers) and designer clothing and Viagra and earthquake insurance and water-filtration systems and plastic surgery and bike locks and . . . burglar alarms.
“If You’re a Lady, Most Men Want to Kill You”
P icture this: You’re a single, twentysomething female in a skimpy T-shirt and sweats, ready to work out at home to a yoga DVD when you hear suspicious noises coming from outside. Or you’re a teenage girl home alone at night, convinced you hear the sound of keys jiggling in the downstairs lock. Or you’re a mother preparing dinner while your kids play in the yard, and you’ve failed to notice the suspicious-looking fellow lurking near the garage. Or perhaps you’re a recent divorcée who’s just been flirting with a charming hunk at your house party and are startled, once the house has emptied out, to see this same hunk
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