I've just begun reading it, but the argument so far is that, in the era of Modernism, advertising sold consumers mythologies about the self and its need for products. In our times, though, ads catch our interest by poking fun, through irony, at the myths they once created.
Curtis dates the turn from myth to irony to the early 60s -- with BBD's ad for Volkswagen, in which the headline read: "Lemon." What's fascinating to me, though, is that here we are, some 50 years later, and we still haven't left the tongue-in-cheek era.
This brings to mind a contemporary (well, around 3 yrs. old) campaign that still makes me laugh. Here's a sample from Dos Equis' "The Most Interesting Man in the World" series of ads.
This spot, part of a campaign that won an Effie Gold in 2009, continues the ironic tradition Curtis writes about pretty exactly. As he might put it, it pokes fun at the whole idea of connoisseurship -- that you can become cool by drinking beer (or, more technically, construct a self through consumption).
Dos Equis' strategy was basically this: since beer commercials often treated their guy audience like dummies, why not try something a little a little hipper -- that talked up to them through irony?
The campaign was very successful. At a time when premium beer sales were down 11% nationally, Dos Equis climbed by 17%.
What interests me most here, though, is something a lot bigger than advertising. One of the undercurrents the campaign plays with-- that it's hard to take ideas about a "cool", "in-control" identity seriously -- is one you see elaborated on continually, and through all levels of culture. Here is Dr. Evil, from the Austin Powers movies, offering us a glimpse of his "inner self":
But the Poets Got There First...
Of course, identity invention has been a key theme in poetry since at least Whitman. But as early as Eliot's Prufrock, the idea of authentic, heroic selfhood has been thrown into question. Such doubt, though, doesn't always result in anguish. As early as the mid-50s, poets, like the pop culture that was to follow a little later, found humor in the topic.
Here is a sample from John Ashbery's "He", that appeared in his book Some Trees (1956). Ashbery's piece, for me at least, not only parodies both the bragging and angst surrounding the topic of "self", but the very notion of personal coherence. The details about the "most interesting man in the world" in this poem are banal, extraordinary -- and discombobulated. It begins:
He cuts down the lakes so they appear straight.
He smiles at his feet in their tired mules.
He turns up the music much louder.
He takes down the vaseline from the pantry shelf.
Then, a few stanzas later:
...
He is after us. If you decide
He is important, it will get you nowhere.
He is the source of much bitter reflection.
He used to be pretty for a rat.
He is now over-proud of his Etruscan appearance.
And then, the last few stanzas:
......
He was last seen flying to New York.
He was handing out cards which read:
"He wears a question mark in his left eye.
He dislikes the police, but will associate with them.
He will demand something not on the menu.
He is invisible to the eyes of beauty and culture.
"He prevented the murder of Mistinguett in Mexico.
He has a knack for abortions. If you see
He is following you, forget him immediately:
He is dangerous even though asleep and unarmed."
Advertising May Fall, But Irony Lives On...
It's become an apocalyptic cliche nowadays that with the advent of social media, the importance of digital word-of-mouth about products will make advertising obsolete. Even if this were so, though, it would seem we're stuck with our irony.
Last week, Katie Roiphe wrote, in a piece titled "The Language of Fakebook" that, "one of the great...adolescent poses of Facebook is irony at all times. So if you say, 'can't wait for the Lady Gaga concert,' you might add 'lol'..."
Does Losing Your "Self" Make You More Self-Involved?
Yet, all of this "not taking yourself too seriously" hasn't exactly led to a more, say, "socially aware consciousness." Don't people complain that U.S. culture is increasingly narcissistic? Why might this be so?
One answer: in the U.S., by law, there is no "one religion." This official pluralism has been said to lead to greater, instead of lesser, religiosity. It's simply your right to try on all sorts of beliefs.
Likewise, if the mirror of the "single self" has been shattered, might not the multiple reflections of the shards left behind be even more fascinating to look at?
