TV’s bimbos What’s wrong with real people?

Press, 19 July 1989, Page 14

TV’s bimbos What’s wrong with real people?

In nearly two years of writing this column and giving freely of my opinions, I have never attacked the way women are depicted in television advertising. I have not done it for two reasons. The first is that if we believe that women are able to make their own choices then we must also accept that some women will continue to allow themselves to be portrayed as bimbos when extolling the virtues of a product. The second is that if the rest of us continue to buy products . which use a bimbo to present them, then we deserve exactly the sort of advertising we are getting. I would prefer ads (apart from those which are pure fantasy) that try to depict a real life situation to have a little more realism in them. Two which spring to mind are one for office equipment and another for company cars. Now in this wonderfully liberated age, ads which show us the pleasures of driving an up-market company car also show us women executives driving them. Nothing wrong with that. Very commendable. Problem is, they start with an office setting where a number of women models, along with their male counterparts, peer out the window at the glorious sight of these cars pulling up outside the

office. All the women are staggeringly beautiful, —. not just well groomed, well dressed, or intelligent looking, but beautiful. A look around your average office will show you that most working women are well presented and attractive. But that beautiful? Instead of looking like women executives they look like models (which they are) standing around a group of blokes. Not so far removed from the image that any old bloke can sell a product so long as he has beautiful scenery to back his claim. Occasionally, in an effort to make us identify with these women executives, the creative director pops a pair of Dior spectacles on the nose of one of these women. The model then peers elegantly over them, whips them off, or stands ramrod straight in an effort to project an image of a tough, "I-made-it-to-the-top,” type image. The ad for office equip-

ment is much the same. A group of models anxiously awaiting the arrival of new office equipment. Apart from one stereotype old dear who is pathetically grateful she no longer has to use a quill after 40 years with the same company, the rest are models delicately tapping perfect nails over a swept-up keyboard. Women who use keyboards on a regular basis rarely have perfect nails. I am all for well-pre-sented women. But not at the expense of their credibility. No one who really has a genuine amount of hard work to plough through before the end of the day hangs around the corridor waiting for a glimpse of a new typewriter, or whatever. They are more likely to be screaming down the phone at the supplier asking where the hell it is. Topping these, though, has to be an ad showing three women setting out to work in the morning. Each one emerges from their front door, hair, face, and clothes immaculate. It is an ad for shampoo. These women, the voice-over cheerfully tells us, are on their way to work (looking a million bucks at eight a.m.) Is he serious? Either all these women get up at five a.m. to complete their hair and face, or

they are plastic coated and can merely leap out of bed and into the shower, emerging 10 minutes later looking perfect. Perhaps they all work for a model agency and are on their way to do a front cover for “Vogue.” Perhaps they don’t have to get anyone other than themselves up in the morning, which may explain why their clothes are in perfect co-ordi-nated condition. Many working women are mothers who are lucky to be able to arrive at the bus-stop with the marmite stain discreetly hidden by a scarf, let alone arrive in that sort of pristine condition. If they really want to extol the virtues of beautifully cared for hair they would be better off showing the normal morning panic with the mad scrabble to spoon your contact lens out of your son’s Kornies before dashing out the door. Your hair could be the one immaculate thing about you, proving that no matter what else goes wrong, at least this particular shampoo, conditioner, mousse, or what-

ever will make sure your hair doesn’t need fussing’ over.

One ad which does have me believing that it happens just like real life, is the one for a soap. The mother has a normal day with her baby which ends up with him in the bathtub covered in suds.

The mother looks like a mother, pleasant, but a bit tired. The situations shown during the day are typical of any parent with a toddler. The rapport shown between the mother and child has me convinced that it is her baby, not a prop. It’s credible — pleasant to watch, easy on the ear, and doesn’t insult my intelligence. And yes, I do remember the brand of soap they are advertising. Some people are fond of saying that a terrible ad might drive you crazy, but you always remember it. Too true. But only a fool would buy the product. Being insulted in your own home by a dreadful ad is one thing, going out and buying the product so that this type of advertising can continue is an act of sheer lunacy.