Tag Archives: marketing

How Not to Sell Out

books, etc., family, humor, , ,

As a Girl Scout, I was not a success. Oh, I did a lot of the usual Girl Scout things. I wore the uniform, even to school, when the meetings were right afterward. (This was not a cool and popular look in high school.) I went camping and hiking. One summer, I was even a camp counselor. I learned the campfire songs and taught them to younger campers. I earned badges for esoteric pursuits and wore them on a sash. (Another reason the look was uncool at school.)

Trying to Push Cookies

What I couldn’t do was sell cookies—at least not well. Back in the day, we went door-to-door. (This is considered unsafe now for obvious, unsavory reasons. Nowadays, Girl Scouts market the treats by phone or online, or at tables outside supermarkets. (They would no doubt sell more if they set up their tables outside marijuana dispensaries.) I have a dealer who fixes me up every year. She’s the granddaughter of a fellow scout from my high school days. But I digress.)

My problem with selling door-to-door was that I had a sister who was also a Girl Scout, and with whom I went door-to-door. We split the orders, which meant that I got only half the orders I could have had without her.

Another way that Scouts got orders back then was to send the order forms to where their parents worked. The grown-up could then apply pressure to coworkers to buy. (This led to infighting. “You bought from Norma’s daughter, but not from mine.” But I digress again.)

My father, however, had a government job and claimed that he wasn’t allowed to pass around the order form. I now suspect that this wasn’t strictly true, and that he simply didn’t want to be the middleman.

As an adult, I have become a consumer of Girl Scout cookies, not a purveyor.

I Didn’t Learn My Lesson

My eptitude with sales has not increased over the (many) years.

I have written two books on the subject of bipolar disorder (gleaned from the writings in my other blog, Bipolar Me (www.bipolarme.blog). They aren’t selling well on Amazon. I get royalties from time to time. I’m saving up for a pizza.

I figure my choices for selling these books are:

A) door-to-door (That would be silly, not to say ridiculous. Well, okay, it would be ridiculous. There simply isn’t a neighborhood full of people living with bipolar disorder that I could canvas. But I digress some more.)

B) from a food truck or bookmobile-like trailer. (Same problem as with A. Besides, the price of gas would kill me.)

C) Facebook ads (I tried a few of them, to resounding silence.)

D) ask Dan to take orders at work (That would go over well. Not.)

E) have a website

I chose E. I found a company that would host a website—an online bookstore with my two books (and a third, when I finally write it). The site is called Bipolar World, and it lives at books.by/bipolar-world. Of course, the product is not as appealing as cookies (of the Girl Scout type, not the computer sort).

Maybe I should be pushing books AND cookies on my website. (I could call it the Cookie-Bookie Website, except then people would think I was taking bets on which cookies are the best. I’m pretty sure oatmeal raisin would lose. But I’ve digressed enough for this week.)

Why Do Models Look So Mean?

etc., fashion, humor, , , , , , , , ,

“Fierce!”

You hear it on Project Runway and America’s Next Top Model.

Apparently, that’s the “look” that designers and fashion models and photographers want to portray. Do they really think it will sell clothes?

Someone must think so. But why? Why would I take fashion advice from someone who looks surly and disagreeable and fierce? Whatever happened to models that smiled, like they were enjoying their clothes and knew they looked good in them?

Actually, I think the models in ads that appear in “women’s” magazines and online sites and TV ads may smile from time to time. It’s a question of who buys the product. If women are buying a product – say a pair of jeans – they’d like to think that they will be delighted by them. They will smile.

(Maybe the women in SI‘s swimsuit issue smile too, but I’m not going to do the research on that. It’s doubtful that many of the men who read it are thinking, “I think I’ll buy that for my significant other. That’ll make her happy.” What they’re selling isn’t bathing suits.)

But when it comes to high fashion – and Valentine’s day perfume ads – the women pout at the least, and more likely snarl and glare, directly at the camera.

I don’t get high fashion (or haute couture, if you want to be classy). I don’t mean just that I don’t buy or wear it (which, you may have guessed, I don’t). I don’t get the psychology of it.

Are the fashion shows and ads trying to appeal to the “male gaze”? Obviously, they are, with the boobs and butts prominently displayed. But what about the faces? I understand that men are supposed to fantasize about having sex with these women. But don’t most men prefer a partner who looks happy about the encounter? Apparently, ad execs and fashion show coordinators believe that men prefer what they think is a sultry gaze, but more often looks like a man-eater who’s been dieting for a month.

Again, man-on-the-street men aren’t the target audience for high fashion. Seemingly, neither are non-independently-wealthy women. Who does that leave? Androgynous buyers for high-end department stores? Art directors of expensive, glossy magazines that cater to the glamour set? Other fashion designers?

In other words, people to whom the clothes may be important, but the women wearing them aren’t. The models are walking clothes hangers, so who cares whether they’re happy? And the fashion purveyors have convinced themselves that fierce is fashionable, as long as you’re not really trying to sell a product.

Of course, the smiling, laughing, dancing model isn’t all that accurate either. “Women laughing alone with salad” is the stereotype. But it appears in other forms – women dancing over how good their probiotics make them feel, frolicking playfully at the thought of new lipsticks and blow dryers, or singing about their favorite brand of cottage cheese. I roll my eyes at them until I’m afraid I’ll get stuck staring at the inside of my skull. Other times, I just assume they’re all on amphetamines.

Male models, now. No smiles there either, but the word for them is “aloof.” Half the time they don’t even look at the camera. If this is supposed to be attractive to the female gaze, again I don’t get it or must not have it.

The stereotype here is that women want cool, unapproachable men whom they can arouse and then domesticate. Think Mr. Spock, for example. Only with better abs.

Again, I’d prefer a partner who seems to enjoy being with me.

But maybe that’s just me.