Believing the lie

Have we now reached a point in advertising, where we don't even have to pretend to focus on the product, but can focus instead on communicating the feelings said product is supposed to evoke?

Attending a recent Fringe show, I watched spellbound as Jem Rolls, a phenomenal British spoken word performer, rattled on about the allure of advertising and how it sucks us into a frenzy of rampant consumerism. He described that sensation of bottomless want as "aspiring to that State of Grace". H.G. Wells wasn't so kind. He called advertising "legalized lying".

They're both right. It's the "thought" of what our possessions can do for us that sucks us into purchasing them. When a woman sees a pair of beautiful shoes, she sees the whole package; she sees herself in them, turning heads, strutting with confidence down the street and into the life she was always meant to lead. When a man sees himself behind the wheel of a Porsche, he sees himself as successful and accomplished, owner of the Midas touch.

What do those possessions have to do with real life? Very little, I'm afraid. And yet… we fall for their decadent allure every time. In his book "All Marketers are Liars", author Seth Godin states: "Every marketer tells a story. And, if they do it right, we believe them. We believe that wine tastes better in a $20 glass than a $1 glass. We believe that an $80,000 Porsche Cayenne is cooler than a $36,000 VW Touareg, which is virtually the same car. And believing it makes it true."

Every commercial, every print ad, every billboard on every highway tells a story. The story is a lie and we know it, but, human nature being what it is, we usually go ahead and buy it; hook, line and sinker.

Ever noticed the advertisements for new condo developments? In every single billboard, the lucky new owners are busy laughing, swimming, entertaining guests, looking out their impossibly gorgeous view to a river or a city skyline as the wind is sexily blowing through their hair. Not one of them is seen working at a soul-sucking job to pay their monthly mortgage, doing their laundry or cleaning the bathroom. I mean, aren't those package and parcel of owning a property too? Of course! But who wants to see that?

Bernice Fitz-Gibbon wrote that "A good ad should be like a good sermon: It must not only comfort the afflicted, it also must afflict the comfortable."

That's exactly what ads do. They prey on our insecurities and prompt us to want more as we relentlessly pursue the rat race on our quest for that ever-eluding State of Grace. Paradise, it seems, is just a credit card transaction away…