Sex Sells . . . But This Is Ridiculous

Photo Art: Petr Kratchovil

One of the perks of having one's own blog is that it gives one a place to vent one's spleen . . . I mean, if one is given to such venting, of course. Not that I am. It's common knowledge that I am a bit of a shrinking violet . . . shy and reserved. Almost demure, really. Why, many's the time you've lamented about my inability to form an opinion and express it . . . what? You didn't?! I could have sworn that was you . . . Ah well. No matter. Because I have formed an opinion about something and am about to express it now.

Every weekday morning I am assaulted by multiple billboard ads for Belvedere vodka. To be honest, I never really looked at them closely. I am not a vodka drinker . . . it's very nearly at the bottom of my list of preferred beverages, actually. Just slightly ahead of turpentine. So maybe that is why. Or maybe it is just because there is so much CRAP advertising around that one has to wear the visual equivalent of hip boots in order to slog through the EXCREMENT day in and day out. (Aren't you glad I'm so shy and demure? Imagine what I might say if I were opinionated.)

So anyway, for several weeks (at least), I hurried past the ads, intent only on scaling the 78 steps between the train platform and the street. (Yes. I've counted. It's rather a lot of stairs to master before morning coffee.) Then, one morning, I noticed that someone had scrawled something - in huge red letters - at the top of one of the billboards. The scrawl read: WE ARE SO MUCH BETTER THAN THIS!!! Hmmm. I made a mental note to, possibly, take a closer look at the ad. Sometime in the future. When I was less distracted. And there weren't still two flights of stairs between me and an excellent cup of coffee. And maybe a pear granola muffin. Maybe.

The next morning, as I topped stair-flight No. 4, the billboard once again came into focus and . . . the red letters were GONE!! During the night, the Belvedere Boys had come and re-papered over the comment with a fresh, new and identical piece of advertising. Which made me think the comment must have had some validity because, after all, it's pretty rare for graffiti to eliminated at all. And overnight? It was remarkable. So. I strolled over and took a good look at the ad.

It is outrageous. It shows a doe-eyed, very startled looking woman, with a serious case of bed-head, reapplying lipstick. The red lipstick is held between her dewy, parted lips in a way that suggests she is more interested in painting her tonsils than her lips. And she is doing this on her knees. In front of a man's fly. Using his oval silver belt buckle as her mirror.

Excuse me?! There is, admittedly, a gray area between the erotic and the pornographic. The gray area varies from age to age, culture to culture and even from individual to individual. One of my nearest and dearest, as an example, is a brilliant visual artist whose images are shockingly raw. I suspect some would find them pornographic, while I would argue that they are not. But back to our ad. Putting aside for a nanosecond that the ad lacks imagination -- sex and alcohol? Gosh . . . who would have thought of that?! It's my admittedly-less-than-humble opinion that to use such an overt suggestion of fellatio to sell alcohol is so vulgar and crass that it crosses into the pornographic realm. (And don't even get me started on the whole women-as-mere-sexual-objects angle. AAARRGGGHHH!!)

Ultimately, I have to agree with the red-marker wielding graffiti critic: We ARE better than this. At least some of us are. So the next time you get a hankering for a Screwdriver or a Vodka Tonic, please -- I beg you! -- ask for Grey Goose. Or better yet, Absolut. Remember those ads? Of course you do!! Why? They were creative!! Not just a blur you filtered out on your way to work.