I have a lot of rants about what marketing does to human thought processes but I will save them for another time. Right now, I am seriously trying to figure out what exactly is happening in the newest “racy” Calvin Klein ad, which has apparently got some Manhattanites in a swivet. AOL, which offers me News Of The Inane every time I open my webmail, helpfully tells me in a sidebar that forty per cent of its readers think the ad goes too far. “Please disable your pop-up blocker,” adds the sidebar, which in the context seems provocative in itself.
1) The lady has choked on her martini olive and the two guys with her are performing a novel kind of artificial respiration, after failing to save their companion, supine in the foreground, who choked on the cherry in his Shirley Temple. Or something like that.
2) They are all in a Dantean hellish afterlife in which lust is permanently unfulfilled because people can only sustain arousal with their jeans on.
3) The lady is a scout for a new category on “America’s Got Talent.”
I think the whole Calvin ad thing needs to redirect. I have an eightysomething foreign-born lady as a client — still active, straight-standing, and fresh-skinned, with an engaging sense of humor — who faithfully wears patterned men’s boxers by Calvin. The big bulge in America’s population is heading for her age range and I think most people would pay money for a hope of her independence and pragmatic good sense. I am an introvert and would look suspiciously on any jeans that looked like they might get me into a threesome let alone a foursome, especially with a trio of preening metrosexuals who look like they are thinking mostly about their next laser hair removal session, but the promise of being a sassy, cultured old lady is pretty inviting.