I had a visit to the doctor’s surgery this morning (routine) and a ten minute wait was just long enough to glance through a glossy mag; great for work, checking up on what’s new and high street prices.
There’s always a gulf between advertising and real life.
That is so downtown Malvern on a damp Wednesday afternoon. And I’d look really good in that wire mesh, no?
I used to love skimming through Vogue’s glossy spreads (thanks, college library) when I was doing my science A-levels. It was all utter fantasy. Dior dress for £1000? Essential. Not.
I promised myself that, once I was earning, I would treat myself to lovely things from – absolutely new then – Next; aspiration, that was me. Seeing my daughter day-dreaming about new ankle boots from Dorothy Perkins takes me right back.
By the time I was earning I’d discovered travel – and charity shops. So I was clothed but never in the latest must-haves.
Now I have an ad-impervious layer of scepticism (well, probably actual cynicism, in view of the sheer wasteful stupidity of the fashion industry) and ads just float by me. I love clothes, love theatre, love image ideas but I refuse to be brain-washed into being desperate for something that doesn’t really matter.
For anyone who still finds ads sway them, try imagining blokes in the same poses – like this fabulous set of chaps in pin-up poses: Men-Ups!
Later, primed by the mag, my eyes were drawn to an ad high on the end of Bray’s Department Store in Great Malvern: an athletic woman is leaning into her mountain bike, rucksack on her back, zooming up an awesome mountain. Inspiring – we have our own hills just above: buy some out-door wear, pump up your ultra-bike’s tyres and off you speed.
Then I thought of the average age, physical condition and attire of the store’s typical clientele and that gulf between ad and real life became a yawning chasm.
Note: today’s post was brought to you by advertising dissonance and a “no?” and a “not” for certain writing friends’ blood pressures.