February 13, 2010

bestrooftalkever:

Awesome new Old Spice commercial I’m on a horse.

I just watched this spot about a dozen times.

It makes me consider writing something about how I’ve used Old Spice deodorant for years because I prefer their snap-to-dispense solid despite how abhorrent I find their Axe-esque product line to be, a conflict that typically results in me staring blankly at a wall of antiperspirants in the personal grooming aisle attempting to determine which of their cryptically named scents will suck the least. I find that fact especially interesting considering how much I’ve loved all their ads in this vein since the first one with Bruce Campbell in 2007. It makes me wonder if they contribute at all to my brand loyalty, because I feel as if I consider the two totally independently of each other.

It also makes me want to write about a quote from Banksy which scares the hell out of me:

The thing I hate the most about advertising is that it attracts all the bright, creative and ambitious young people, leaving us mainly with the slow and self-obsessed to become our artists. Modern art is a disaster area. Never in the field of human history has so much been used by so many to say so little.

My own aspirations to work in the field are sufficient for that observation to give me pause, but work like this seems to give his argument even more credence. Had the teams at W+K Portland who created this ad (and its predecessors) been born in a parallel universe where they engaged in the only slightly artsier career of comedy, or more specifically tv/film comedy, I’m convinced they’d have solved NBC’s late night woes three times over. And it’s not just the writing, although the whole damn thing is so funny that it’s not even worth trying to choose which quotes to pull. Let’s take art direction; the inexplicably soapy bottle only gets funnier when you consider that the best explanation is a self-referential gag about over the top product depictions in ads. Then there’s the perfectly plopped breton sweater, the endlessly flowing diamonds, and so on. And of course, the casting, which has been consistently awesome throughout the campaign—but holy fuck is this guy good. “I’m on a horse” is terrific, of course, but check out the delivery on “you’re on a boat” and, my personal favorite, “the tickets are now diamonds.” Absolute murder. I can’t find a single frame, a single line, a single inflection that doesn’t seem perfect.

Anyhow, I’m too tired to do a better job of composing my thoughts, so just watch that funny thing and be glad that there are people out there who work hard to make awesome stuff that makes us all laugh, whatever their intentions (though I will note that the cool kids at W+K don’t lie awake at night wondering if we’re going to purchase Old Spice brand products; they already know they did good work and P&G has long since paid them anyway).

February 11, 2010
Stages of Alexander McQueen grief:

  1. See his Spring 2010 collection online last night; Think to myself, “those shoes are fucking hideous.”
  2. Feel a bit insecure about my inability to “get” the designs of an apparent fashion genius.
  3. Wake up this morning to find he’s taken his own life.
  4. Feel guilty about my dislike of his collection and any subsequent bad cognitive juju I may have directed toward him, given the circumstances.
  5. Come to the realization that due to his unfortunate demise, the entire 2010 fashion season will be held in his honor, with his final collection at the forefront.
  6. Further realize that said collection will be held up as the last opus of a fallen legend—a pure expression of artistic genius and yet more fuel to fire the minds of those predisposed to believe in the false corollary between brilliant art and depressed/otherwise psychologically imbalanced artists.
  7. Ultimately realize that any attempts on my behalf to express my personal distaste for the line or my concerns regarding its supposed implications will cause me to appear to be, as they say in the biz, a total dick.
  8. Feel significant guilt about having turned this thought process into a meditation on how Alexander McQueen’s death may negatively impact me, as opposed to his family and those who loved and were inspired by him.
  9. Wonder briefly what it would have been like to have hated Heath Ledger’s Joker performance.
  10. Write this.
  11. Feel guilty about the possibility of having trivialized the death of someone who was by all accounts a brilliant and lovely man by having written it.
  12. et cetera ad nauseum


(Having said all that, Bohemea has been killing the McQueen tribute game all day. Definitely worth a look.)

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