Working in Covent Garden has its perks (no pun intended). You get to guinea pig the deluge of free publications (I don't mind hallucinating on a Sunday afternoon courtesy of toxic fodder). There's other free stuff too, good things, like jelly beans.
The other day 2 heavily made-up ladies, a vision of orange and pink, blasted the area. Stomping around the almost-pedestrianised roads in their stilettos, they tossed their propaganda at any female entering their line of path.
Then they came in the shop and handed my colleagues sachets of their new product, 'bust enhancing cream'. Um. Hmm.
Maybe I turned my head for too long, but this product confuses me. I found a pile of discarded Heat magazines on my road yesterday, so I picked one up to read. It was funny. I guess this is funny too.
Well, the design's kind of funny. Validification via French subheadings will never fail to amuse me (check creme raffermissante pour le buste
). Missing in the online blurb, but admitted on the freebie: "Use morning and night for at least 28 days for maximum results."
The concept behind this isn't shocking. Neither is the fact that people will spend money on it. I am not under any pretence that these things don't matter to lots of people. People can do what they want with their time. It's the marketing strategy that annoys me. Who decided to be so blase about pointless female insecurity, bathe it in pink and retail it on the modern high street? It's insulting, and a scary prospect when logisticising the hoardes of girls with disposable incomes swarming around.
I will be on my way to feeling alright with this when another independent contemporary cosmetics company hand out fancy penis enlarging creams in Stussy and Carhartt, no questions asked.