Sunday, April 12, 2009

Old before my time

Right. The bladder control ads are the final straw. Since when has 30 been considered so damn old?

This morning as I watched a decidedly young person's tv show while cooking a fry up to counteract a decidedly young person's hangover, an ad came on with the following voiceover "Now that I'm in my 30s, I need a little extra help. But with TENA control pads, I don't need to worry about bladder control" or something like that - all over the top of 50 year old women sitting in a sunny field and (presumably) reminiscing nostalgically for the good old days. This has confirmed two suspicions of mine: 1. That in Britain, 30 is seen as nigh on over the hill, and 2. That advertisers are disturbingly out of touch with how 30-somethings live these days.

On point 1, I have noticed a trend in magazines to dismiss 30 somethings as "old", going so far as to describe various Botox and liposuction procedures available for the 'older woman', and helpfully suggest a migration towards more conservative apparel. Even, in a magazine I recently decided NOT to buy, that women in their 30s should without exception prioritise love over career. I guess if you haven't hit the big time by the ripe old age of 30 you'd better pop out a few kids while you still have the chance right? All that career stuff was just to fill the gap while we waited for Prince Charming, after all. Might as well admit it now we're over the hill. Bear in mind that said magazines consist mostly of double page ads for Dolce & Gabbana, Chanel and Aquascutum - hardly what a post credit crunch graduate who is "young" enough to feel validated by the magazine is going to be spending their cash on.

On point 2, I don't know why advertisers are increasingly trying to sell things like bladder control pads and speak to 30 somethings like they are ready to retire. Most 30 somethings I know (in my highly unscientific sample) are single, or at least not married, work in high-tech time consuming jobs, live in rented apartments, don't have kids if they are married, wear skinny jeans and heels and not pastel suits with sensible rubber soled shoes (unless they are Converse) - many of us live pretty similiarly to how we did in our twenties, thank you very much. (Maybe it's because I'm now in East London.) This may or not be a good thing, but it is a fact. Maybe it's the internet, maybe it's being the first generation to grow up with Nintendo and MTV as a given, but I don't think we are ready to feel sidelined the way the media here seems to suppose. Or maybe it's just England, with it's desperate need to be able to categorise you properly on the right form with the right tickbox. But the day they invent a youth marketing division for walking frames, I'm outta here.

Monday, April 06, 2009

Simon Le Bon, harbinger of destiny

So it's time for our kitten, Simon Le Bon, to be neutered. Clare can't remember which vet he's at and rings up our local one. The conversation went something like this...
"Hello, I need to book in our cat but not sure this is the right vet. The name's Le Bon, Simon Le Bon".
"Oh yes, that's right - but we're not supposed to tell people he goes here".
"What?"
"What's the cat's name?"
"Simon Le Bon."
"No, the cat's name."
"Simon. Le. Bon."
This exchange, according to Clare, proceeded for quite a while.
"OH - the CAT is called Simon Le Bon?"
And suddenly, Clare realised the glorious truth. Our little Simon Le Bon goes to the very same vet that the real Mr Le Bon (or presumably his feline companion) goes to. The odds of this, by my unscientific calculations, are about 2 million to 1. This news caused considerable excitement in our house. "I'm sure this means something!" said Veronica, "I'm just not sure what.... "

We concluded that Simon Le Bon is some kind of omen for us, but can't quite yet decipher the complex puzzle fate is weaving for us and a small cat. But considering that Spandau Ballet has recently reformed, who knows what the future holds??