Do you notice that the model in a perfume advertisement is always in a hurry? She’s zipping down a vaguely European cobblestoned street – in stilettos – slightly harried but not a strand of hair out of place, checking her watch as a handsome David Gandy specimen tails her. But he has to catch her in flight; she’s picky and with those legs she can afford to be. This allegorical world and the emotional response roused has little to do with the fragrance she’s wearing which, don’t forget, is what the advertisement exists to sell. She is busy and desirable and confident – see the upward tilt of her chin and the fire in her eyes? – and we want to be her.
When I see a woman entering a designer boutique I have to fight the impulse to seize her hand and tell her: “You can’t pick a new personality off a coat rack.” Not to say that wearers of designer labels are insecure, but the way haute couture is marketed preys especially on those who are.
Okay, so this is partly a tirade from a penniless student living in New York City on minimum wage, but I used to be an impulsive shopper. I was the girl who had to buy something whenever she walked into a store just because I liked knowing that I could afford to.
Years later and a wardrobe bursting with what-the-hell-is-this, I’ve wizened up to the point of preaching anti-consumerism – and I’m not alone. Before they started ‘Buy Nothing Year’, which became a national news sensation, roommates Julie Phillips and Geoffrey Szuszkiewicz said that their paychecks were guzzled mostly by outings and social events, clothes and haircuts. Julie had to trim over 80 percent of her personal effects when she lost her apartment so that she could move into the single spare room in Geoffrey’s pad – and the pledge to go without for a year transformed their lives.
For the first three months, the duo phased out consumer goods such as household objects – detergent and soap included – electronics and clothes. Next to go were frivolities like dining out, salon haircuts and gas – replaced with biking and walking even during Canadian winters, eating Tupperware pasta on a park bench while their friends sipped $40 wine in a cozy restaurant, and teaching themselves to use an aquaponics system to grow their own food.
While this last failed, the spiritual takeaway resonated deep. “I won’t be afraid of making less money or making choices that aren’t motivated by money. I can look at choices more holistically with my life approach that serve me in a spiritual, mental or community-oriented way,” Geoff told Forbes magazine. Julie, who saved $13,800 that year, echoed: “Spending money was the theme, but it’s made me conscious of what I do with my time, how I get around.”
Maybe all eye-openers come from being cornered with no way out, but they happen for a reason. My wake-up call was being asked to star in a shoe commercial. A talent scout had spotted me and invited me to audition. I was given a hand-drawn storyboard for the advertisement, in which three girls are walking down the street while absentmindedly window shopping. When we happened upon the window of this shoe brand, we were expected to exclaim as if unearthing buried treasure. I didn’t get the part, but the phoniness of it all – I never even laid eyes on the shoes in question – made me look at cosmetics advertisements and remind myself that the visibly pore-less model has probably never used the anti-aging cream she’s touting.
I used to keep a list of “beauty goals” that went something like this: “shrink my thighs”, “lighten my skin”, “get rid of stomach flab”, and “trim 2 inches off my calves”. Affixed to the top of the page was a deadline. My esteem of my own reflection, as expected of any teenage girl, zigzagged like the Himalayas, but those advertisements not only made me hate my body but buy more to compensate – the marketer’s mission accomplished. Some ten years later, I enjoy flipping through Vogue for the sheer pleasure of dissecting each and every ad for its phoniness – is that Mediterranean coastline real or is the model going through the motions in a green room? But seeing right through it makes me appreciate the artistry that goes into marketing a piece of haute couture.
When I covered Indonesia Fashion Week 2013 for a newspaper, I realized how much the thudding music and almost extra-terrestrial quality of the chiseled models with their blazing eyes contributed to how much I enjoyed myself at the show. The glitz and allure is inseparable from high fashion, but, as Alexander McQueen once said: “Fashion should be a form of escapism, and not a form of imprisonment.”
After nearly two months in New York, all I’ve purchased other than food is deodorant, a nail clipper and razors – and only because I forgot to pack these items! Can I keep it up for the next four years until I graduate? Maybe, maybe not; but if I do, I’ll be sitting on a sizeable nest egg when it’s over.
