In Consumed: The Ginsu. His ads were followed by a phone number and an exhortation to “act now!” And people did. Isn’t that amazing?
In the annals of completely ridiculous advertising, the original commercial on behalf of Ginsu knives has a special place. More than a quarter-century later, anyone old enough to remember it and many people who aren’t old enough to remember it will know the highlights — the guy karate-chopping a tomato, the knife sawing neatly through a tin can and the kind of hard-sell language we tend to associate with the most blatant forms of hucksterism. It’s a knife that will last forever. It’s a product no kitchen should be without. It’s the most incredible knife offer ever. And after the superlatives, the inevitable: But wait, there’s more …
Continue reading at the NYT Magazine site via this no-registration-required link. This is part of the magazine’s annual “The Lives They Lived” issue.
Additional link: The original Ginsu ad, on YouTube.
A pretty amusing piece in the WSJ today happens to be one of the articles the paper has made available to non-subscribers, and I recommend it. It’s about people who are so pleased with their fancy houses that when it comes time to build a playhouse for the kids, they make a miniature replica of their actual home — “Mini-Me McMansions,” as writer Troy McMullen puts it.
The lavish replicas, which can include such grown-up amenities as hardwood floors and media rooms with satellite TVs, generally cost from $10,000 to $100,000. Some run even higher than that, exceeding the median price of a single-family home ($218,000 in November). In some areas the playhouses are running afoul of local zoning ordinances, building codes and housing-development covenants, annoying neighbors who object to the backyard estates and racking up substantial fines.
Here’s the rest.
If I lived in New York, I’d probably go take a look at this show of images by Belgian photojournalist Teun Voeten:
In an exhibit titled ” Saddam Mania,” on display at the Think Tank 3 gallery, Mr. Voeten documents a period of 10 days in Iraq’s history — just after the infamous toppling of the Saddam statue in front of the Palestine Hotel. Thousands of likenesses of the deposed despot — which could once be seen “on every other street corner” and at the entrance to every public office, Mr. Voeten said — were vandalized and finally destroyed by Iraqis and, in some instances, by American soldiers.In a room filled with striking images, Mr. Voeten shows the clash of two conflicting realities: In one, Saddam’s face is a constant reminder that his word is law; and in the reality of post-invasion Iraq, a people’s longsuppressed emotions are vented on that same all-pervading face, leaving knife slashes, bullet holes, and puddles of urine in testament to their rancor.
Although the invite image and the New York Sun article quoted above say the show was originally meant to run through late November, I have it on good authority that it’s still up. The gallery is at 447 Hudson, at Morton.
I think that this story was pretty widely circulated & read, but just in case: I hereby note that I really enjoyed reading What’s Wrong With Cinderella, by Peggy Orenstein, in the New York Times Magazine. It’s about Princess mania. Here is a no-registration-required link. Here’s a quick sample:
To call princesses a “trend” among girls is like calling Harry Potter a book. Sales at Disney Consumer Products, which started the craze six years ago by packaging nine of its female characters under one royal rubric, have shot up to $3 billion, globally, this year, from $300 million in 2001. There are now more than 25,000 Disney Princess items. “Princess,” as some Disney execs call it, is not only the fastest-growing brand the company has ever created; they say it is on its way to becoming the largest girls’ franchise on the planet.
Meanwhile in 2001, Mattel brought out its own “world of girl” line of princess Barbie dolls, DVDs, toys, clothing, home décor and myriad other products. At a time when Barbie sales were declining domestically, they became instant best sellers. Shortly before that, Mary Drolet, a Chicago-area mother and former Claire’s and Montgomery Ward executive, opened Club Libby Lu, now a chain of mall stores based largely in the suburbs in which girls ages 4 to 12 can shop for “Princess Phones” covered in faux fur and attend “Princess-Makeover Birthday Parties.” Saks bought Club Libby Lu in 2003 for $12 million and has since expanded it to 87 outlets; by 2005, with only scant local advertising, revenues hovered around the $46 million mark, a 53 percent jump from the previous year.
It’s a really interesting read, very thoughtfully done.
A couple of side notes about this.
First, yes, I also write for the New York Times Magazine, so maybe this is a biased recommendation; on the other hand, I’ve never met Orenstein.
Second, I’ve been gradually adding a few old Consumed columns to this site that aren’t really available anywhere else for free, so after reading this I put up an old column about Club Libby Lu, right here.
Third, yet another Times Magazine contributor, Stephen Dubner (who I did meet, years ago, but have no particular contact with these days), happened to note on his Freakonomics blog that “Princess” is not only among the top three names for dogs — it’s also among the top 750 or so names for babies!
El Felino
Malbec, Mendoza, Product of Argentina
About $15 (Jersey City)
[Note: Here I finally finish clearing the Jersey City inventory of wine-label-related entries.]
[Note: This is the tenth installment in a regular Murketing feature. For previous installments and an explanation, go here.]
Earlier this year, R. wrote a “Consumed” column about “critter wines” — meaning wine labels that featured a representation of an animal. (Or “critter.”) Yellowtail was the high-profile example in that piece, but of course there are many, many critters on the wine aisles these days.
And in this case, we picked this up because we liked the cat illustration. It’s a bit more arresting than a lot of the critters you see. A little more stylish. Yet still somehow cute. And of course it’s all about cuteness. But you knew that.
Read more
The always enjoyable Giant Robot includes in its latest issue (number 45) a Q&A with Takashi Murakami, which of course I read with great interest. The interview was conducted by GR co-honcho Eric Nakamura, and in places it’s a little odd; I guess Murakami is an enigmatic guy, but I wish there had been some follow-up and clarification on some of his answers. (A question toward the end — “Is it important for you to create a legacy with your art?” — is answered: “What would be ideal is if copyrights became stronger — like Disney — through national ordinance, and to be able to survive economic dangers, changing executive positions, and the outbreak of internal conflict.” What’s that supposed to mean?)
Anyway, some of what Murakami said was not only enigmatic, but pretty interesting and (to me, at least) amusing. He out-Warhols Warhol when asked about what he learned by collaborating with Louis Vuitton and answers that it was the contract he and LV’s president devised. Not the things that were the result of that contract (the LV-Murakami handbag being, presumably, a prominent example) — the contract itself.
After the contract was signed, we both felt – we both agreed – that we had started something worthy of toppling the ‘art’ that had been built up by Duchamp and Warhol. While I can’t disclose the contents of that contract now, I have a secret expectation that if the seal were to be broken in 100 years, the contract itself would go down in art history as the most important piece of art I ever made.
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Artists
This post was written by
Rob Walker on December 27, 2006
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In Consumed: DNA portraits: How one company tapped the desire for really, really personalized consumption.
In his 1983 book “Class,” Paul Fussell observed that “there’s hardly anything you get from a catalog that can’t be personalized,” including napkin rings and car mats, or “a stoneware pie dish reading, ‘Pies by Karen’ (any name available).” Fussell had merciless fun scrutinizing “the pathos of these constant assertions of selfhood.” Of course, the technologies of personalization have become much more complex since then, and unique-as-you objects are widely seen as markers of sophistication these days. And at a time when the singularity bandwagon is stacked high with customized sneakers and pimped-out laptop cases, a company called DNA 11 has found a way to stand out: It will turn a sample of your DNA into a piece of abstract art. “Each piece is as unique as you,” its Web site promises. “Absolutely one-of-a-kind.” …
Continue reading at the NYT site via this no-registration-required link.
Additional link: DNA 11.
You may have noticed a headline here or there last month, noting that Nike was ending a contract with one of its offshore suppliers, a Pakistan-based manufacturer called Saga Sports. The problem was evidence that Saga was using at least some child labor.
The Christian Science Monitor has an article taking a more detailed look at this, written by David Montero. “By severing its contract with Saga, Nike is likely to score moral points with its customers in the West,” Montero writse. “But it’s also likely, observers agree, to sink Saga, a corporate giant that makes about 6 million of Pakistan’s annual production of 40-million soccer balls,” employs thousands of stitchers, and depends heavily on Nike as its top customer.
Saga is based in Sialkot, Pakistan (population: 3 million), where the article says that 80 percent of all soccer balls are produced, adding up to a $210 million business category that employes around 45,000 stitchers. (“For as long as there have been soccer balls in Sialkot,” which is more than 100 years, “the hands of children have stitched them,” the piece adds.)
Obviously the article doesn’t suggest that child labor is okay, nor does anyone quoted in the piece say so. But it’s a pretty interesting look at a problem that’s more complicated than it might first appear to be. Check it out.
I’m not sure what the hook is for this piece, or why it appeared on the op-ed page of the NYT, but here’s a brief rumination on the hoodie.
The hooded sweatshirt began, in the 1930s, as a practical piece of clothing. Champion created the first ones for laborers in the frozen warehouses of upstate New York….
Eventually, hooded sweatshirts were produced for football and track athletes, who would lend theirs to their girlfriends, and eventually the hoodie was everyday wear.
Also addressed in the piece: hoodie-wearing by hip-hop artists and Rocky Balboa.
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