The art of advertising

There is a time and a place for subtlety, for instance when trying to introduce the topic of anal sex, or why you have so many books about Adolf Hitler, into conversation with somebody that you have recently met. The problem with subtlety is that it depends upon two immense variables; the communication skills of the person trying to get their message across, and the sensitivity of the audience. Too subtle and you can fail entirely to get your message across and, to take a completely random example, risk startling your date by turning up on her doorstep dressed as an SS officer and proffering a tin of lube.

Cigarettes have been for a long time the object of intentional repression, the latest act being to hide the offending fags behind screens in shops, the way that gentleman’s literature is now wrapped in discreet packaging. Obviously it was not enough to put them on a high shelf to deter their purchase by, presumably, schoolkids, dwarfs and those who smoked so much it stunted their growth. Presumably this hiding of fags like a guilty secret or sensible stockpiling of decent booze in a wardrobe prior to having one’s in-laws come for Christmas is designed to deter the impulse buyer of ciggies rather than, say, somebody who is driven by a chemical dependency to spunk almost a tenner on twenty hits to feed their addiction and satisfy their craving.

Prior to this, advertising of fags was heavily restricted in what the images could be associated with. For instance, it’s been a while since Marlboro were allowed to show images connecting their product with cowboys engaged in such healthy pursuits as rounding up cattle and shooting Mexicans. And the days of being able to brand a Formula 1 car with your livery are long gone, as are the days of having a cigarette lighter and ashtray as an optional extra in your Formula 1 car. That’s health and safety for you.

This meant that creative types in the advertising industry, who were normally to oaddled with coke and booze to really develop an affinity with fags, were producing ads so subtle that they resulted in billboards adorned with a giant picture of a gecko and the words ‘smoking kills’ in letters eight foot high.

The same has been happening with alcohol advertising for a while too, with rules about not being able to associate alcohol with success, sexual prowess or, by the look of things, anything other than ending the night face down on some cobbles sprawled in a puddle of what you sincerely hope is just spilled kebab.

Advertising is now so subtle that folk can be unaware that they are seeing an advert at all. Once upon a time you knew where you were; a pack shot and the words ‘buy me now’ followed by as many exclamation marks as was thought permissible within the laws of common decency was considered a cutting edge campaign. The emergence of social networking, with Youhootube, Twatter and, if you believe the stock price, Facebook as mankinds’ chief form of communication replaces the previously very popular pointing and mouthing ‘do you want a drink’ over loud music as the pinnacle or persuasion.

Viral ads, so called because they are so bloody irritating, abound, with huge companies very much attracted to the idea that their customers will actually spread their advertising for them. They are right, of course, as soon as the first person started wearing clothing with the maker’s label displayed on the outside, Big Business knew it had their customers working for them as mobile billboards. Slightly more subtle are the ads and e mails that only turn out to be adverts when somebody exposes them, or thinks for a moment about why a pretty girl would be so fucking excited about a new flavour of Marmite.

Which is why I thought the van pictured was so refreshing. The company supplies safety clothing. And what better way to communicate this than by having a pretty young woman dressed as Daisy Duke but, and this is important, with a high-viz vest and safety glasses. She looks ready to clock on at the steel mill.