A few years ago, I arrived home exhausted after a week's work in Birmingham. My housemate was watching something (probably on Channel Five), which was frequently interrupted by adverts for a programme 'for real men'. I rolled my eyes, opened my laptop and started typing. The result was this, which was published, pretty much in this form, in UWE's student paper, Western Eye, in 2011.
The battle between the 'real' and the 'fake' rages on within the media. Adverts
for 'real' men and programmes about such men are shown alongside products that
rely on the claim that they -and only they- use 'real' women in their
advertising (an excellent marketing tactic). These adverts come up against the
'science' of skincare (have you ever listened, really listened, to an
advert for moisturiser?) and the ever increasing cosmetic surgery promotions at
the back of magazines and, more recently, on television.
It's only when you start questioning such campaigns that their serious
flaws become apparent. What is a 'real' man? Must he like sport? Then, is rugby
a sport 'for real men', when compared to football? Are 'real men' truly not
afraid to show their emotions, even -dare I say it? - cry? Or do these honoured
men never act like such 'girls'? What about crying at a football match (clearly
rugby fans would never cry at a match): is this somehow allowed? Weekend
magazines discuss the Alpha male; the metrosexual; the man 'in touch with his
emotions'; and the (often heavily stereotyped) gay man. All 'types' of men
range in description and are often contrasted. But all are men. So which are
'real'?
For women it is, arguably, more complex. The Dove campaign shows 'real'
women… of all shapes, ages and sizes, moving away from the waif-like (one of
the industry's favourite phrases) models often used in fashion promotion. High
Fashion is, of course, dominated by the aptly nicknamed 'coat hangers'. Despite
protests, slimmer models will, I think, always be used to display the seasons'
latest and greatest. Again: which women are ‘real'? Many of these writers would say those that
'don't starve themselves' are true women and, having studied the female form a
great deal, (read 25,000 Years Of Erotic Freedom), I would agree to an
extent. It's only in the last 30 years that much slimmer women have dominated
photography and advertising. Years ago, larger, convex stomachs were considered
features of the 'real' woman, as well as the -perhaps more expected- wide hips
and full, round breasts.
Nudity aside (I'm sorry to say), the products that clothe us in various
ways are perhaps all 'fakeries'. Tattoos, hair dye and style, vajazzling (my
new favourite word) and make up are all ways of portraying personality and of
disguising ourselves: faking it, if you like. It's not uncommon to find bras
that claim to 'enhance' assets by 'TWO WHOLE cups': something I can perhaps
understand in smaller sizes, but personally cannot fathom as a DD+. Yet there
are still gel-filled and inflatable F cups, which, frankly, I find scary. Similarly,
lip-glosses can no longer simply 'gloss' lips: they must now offer hours of
plumping or 'collagen' effect, whilst moisturisers produce a 'sun kissed' look.
The advertising that really fascinates me, however, is mascara promotion. I'm
not quite sure how an eyelash colour can be sexualised but somehow, marketing
experts have managed to attempt it. The 'real' woman aims to achieve the 'false
lash' effect because, clearly, having longer, fuller, thicker, curled lashes
means you're sexier and more powerful. Yet all these adverts use 'lash
inserts', which are surely simply false, or fake, lashes. It seems a woman should
be 'real' and 'natural', yet, in order to better herself, she must fake it.
Which brings me on to orgasms. Just kidding.
