Men, masculinity in lad-vertising and why a beard is sometimes just a beard.
Once upon a time in advertising land, men were Men. With a capital M (and not in a choreographed Village People kinda way). They were manly men who did manly things in manly settings.
I grew up in Australia with the Solo Man. From the 1970s to the early 90s he kayaked, climbed mountains and did many manly things while drinking that most masculine of drinks: lemon soda. And he did so in such a manly way he'd spill most of it from his manly mouth over his manly moustache and down his manly, matted chest hair. And when finished, just to prove how manly our manly Solo man was, he'd crush the can in a manly manner.
Now, the manly man is back. Or, at least, his facial hair is. 2014 will be remembered for one thing: the world domination and (hopefully) rapid fall of the Hipster. Men covered in hair. Beards, quiffs, moustaches, chest hair and that cheeky peek-a-boo of leg hair between the artfully rolled trouser cuff and sockless shoe.
In Stephanie Weaver's fantastic blog she rightly laments today's beards as being "the push-up bra of masculinity". Like the woman friend a closeted gay man takes on a date, are too many beards just beards: a cover for who you truly are? Now I'm sure there are many hirsute men out there who couldn't give two shits about what a blogger thinks about their beards. But those holding a single origin macchiato topped with just the right amount of home-made almond milk foam are right now risking certain death by composing a tersely worded Tweet while riding their fancy, fixed gear bikes.
And well they may complain. They've been copping quite the amount of flak lately. But I have two words to use in my defence of the decline of real masculinity: Butt Wipes. Advertising makes it's living by creating angst about issues that don't really exist to sell us products we don't really need. Traditionally, these have been aimed at women: Is the ebola virus lurking under the rim of my toilet seat? Does my vagina emanate the stench of black death? But we've exhausted almost all avenues. We ad men are so desperate for something new we've had to introduce REAL WOMEN into our ads ala theDove Real Beauty spots. Actual women. In an ad. Go figure.
But like sharks, we can smell the blood in the water, and now we've homing in on men flailing about, desperate for something to save their fragile egos. And what's the hot button issue we want them to be aware of? The appalling situation in Gaza? The economy? The environment? No, it's Dollar Shave Club's product One Wipe Charlies to make sure their arses are squeaky clean at all times.
And it doesn't stop there. Recently, while researching men's grooming trends for one of our clients, I came across (figuratively, not literally) scented men's underwear. Yes lads, if you'd like your boxers and briefs to smell more like musk & pears rather than the usual pissoire in a cheese shop you need to fork out some money for Le Slip Francais' unique crowdfunding project.
Or, if you've ever found yourself waiting for the bus or train thinking "If only my balls were dryer my life would be complete", then Balla Powder will ensure you'll never sweat the small stuff again. And if you use their Tingle variant you'll do so with a particularly queer smile on your face.
Masculinity has been under attack for decades now. Or at least the male equivalent. Angelina Jolie and Scarlett Johansson are holding up their ends just fine. They're now more butch than any of us could ever hope to be. And what's more we men seem to like it that way.
Since the phenomenon of Old Spice's' Man Your Man Could Smell Like' campaign, today's depictions of masculinity have to be soaked in satire and the sweat of sagging, past-their-use-by-date action film stars. Parodies of masculinity such as Mr T, Arnie Schwarzenegger and Sly Stallone are all now just hired guns for whatever wares brands want to peddle to our insecurity. Seriously, have we really reached such a low point that we have to be sold Remia BBQ sauce by being told that if you want to "act like a man, eat like a man" as in McCann Amsterdam's latest ball...er, sorry, blockbuster?
I suspect what men really want is more genuinely to be found in a new form of ladvertising: crowdsourced projects for products that haven't even been made yet. And what's on top of the Christmas 2014 wish list for every man? The coolest coolbox known to mankind.
But hold on a second: it comes with a built-in daiquiri maker. Doesn't that just scream butch to you?
But surely the sign that we're nearing The End of Days is the SexFit. Yes, the Rider's of the Apocalypse heralding the decline of real masculinity will all be wielding a Bluetooth-enabled cockring that turns your penis into a (sort of) pedometer. Now, manly men can not only share their jogging performances on Social Media with wearable tech like Nike's Fuel Band but their bedroom bravado performances as well.
Who knows, maybe before long those dicks on Twitter will soon be actual dicks bragging about reaching a new personal best? But if this gadget gets you hard, good luck keeping it that way when your date's rolling on the floor laughing at you.