Product: Soft Scrub Scrubby Pads
Summary: A woman sexually pleasures her gas range with a disposable sponge.
Themes: hand jobs
See Also: Bondage Boob Tube, The Feminine Mystique
What is there to say about this ad? I encountered it while watching Iron Chef, a show I used to watch as a child to laugh at the Japanese, in the pure, joyous way that a child laughs at the Japanese, but which I now watch for reasons that are not entirely clear to me.
In my memory (though not on Wikipedia), Iron Chef was broadcast on, like, TNT or Spike or G4 or the Sci-Fi Channel: something wholly unrelated to the nominal subject of the show, which was fancy cuisine made by guys in metallic uniforms. And, again in my memory, it was preceeded and followed by non-food shows, and peppered with unrelated advertising. This would have served, if it had been the case, to heighten the absurd nature of Iron Chef, its overblown pageantry and dramatics.
Currently, Iron Chef is broadcast on the Fine Living Network, a kind of Martha Stewart-inspired channel for upwardly-mobile upper-middle-class housewives. It's preceded and followed by shows on the same theme, and the many, many ads reinforce the impression that Iron Chef is serious business. We are not meant to laugh at the idea of an actress eating a bird's nest full of shark fins, but to find it aspirational. Even more disquieting, as we watch the ads for resorts, holidays, getaways, restaurants, we come to realize that what we must aspire to is not master chef-hood, but that we one day eat their food. The purpose of the thing in its original Japanese broadcast was clearly to provide some extra advertising for gourmet restaurants in Japan, so I can't exactly claim that the new broadcast has perverted the nature of the show. But the meaning's changed for me, and now I wince and watch it through my fingers.
So this was where I saw, or rather heard, this commercial. The gas range moans loudly, in a deep Jersey accent that says nothing so much as "I'm here to fix your pipes" or "I am James Gandolfini." They even use that Wilhem of sexual dialogue, "a little to the left." The woman goes through a slight range of emotions: first she is beatifically happy that she gets to use Soft Scrub Scrubby Wipes rather than regular baby wipes; then she is shocked that her gas range is making these noises; then she is disturbed, but intent on cleaning it very thoroughly as it groans; and finally she is indulgently smug as she tosses the used sponge into a gleaming trash bin and the range sighs "Oh yeaaah. Nice. Niiice."
As with most ads that sexualize the figure of a wife or (even worse) mother, the tone here is of consent grudgingly given, bought, or negotiated for. Think of the ubiquitous diamond ads around Valentine's day, or the Wendy's ad in which the wife, dressed as a Wendy's employee, grouses "I'm only doing this because it's your birthday." Here, the factor that makes it worthwhile for Conjugal McMilf to polish that grill is that it's "easily clean." The unpleasant task is over in record time, and she can get on with her day.
Based on a passing familiarity with Bernays and the two or three episodes of Mad Men I've seen, I'll often try to picture advertising meetings that lead to this kind of thing. And you know, I want to be charitable here. I want to be hopeful in my life. I want to believe that the age of eroticizing housework for women is over, and that the sexual connotations here are some kind of innocent mistake that none of the hundreds of people involved in the production of the commercial intended. If that were the case, I can't believe no one would have said "Hey, instead of a porn star voice, couldn't we have the range make dog noises? Because almost no one has sex with their dogs?" It's unquestionably intentional.
The only thing I can really wonder about is whether the timing of this ad--for I only began seeing it around February--is meant to tie in to the stereotypical tradition of the obligatory Valentine's blowjob. Does Soft Scrub picture a woman, tired of married life, tired of drudgery and performative sex, picking up the product that promises them it can all be over soon?
Friday, February 13, 2009
clean and dirty
Product: Soft Scrub Scrubby Pads
Summary: A woman sexually pleasures her gas range with a disposable sponge.
Themes: hand jobs
See Also: Bondage Boob Tube, The Feminine Mystique
What is there to say about this ad? I encountered it while watching Iron Chef, a show I used to watch as a child to laugh at the Japanese, in the pure, joyous way that a child laughs at the Japanese, but which I now watch for reasons that are not entirely clear to me.
In my memory (though not on Wikipedia), Iron Chef was broadcast on, like, TNT or Spike or G4 or the Sci-Fi Channel: something wholly unrelated to the nominal subject of the show, which was fancy cuisine made by guys in metallic uniforms. And, again in my memory, it was preceeded and followed by non-food shows, and peppered with unrelated advertising. This would have served, if it had been the case, to heighten the absurd nature of Iron Chef, its overblown pageantry and dramatics.
Currently, Iron Chef is broadcast on the Fine Living Network, a kind of Martha Stewart-inspired channel for upwardly-mobile upper-middle-class housewives. It's preceded and followed by shows on the same theme, and the many, many ads reinforce the impression that Iron Chef is serious business. We are not meant to laugh at the idea of an actress eating a bird's nest full of shark fins, but to find it aspirational. Even more disquieting, as we watch the ads for resorts, holidays, getaways, restaurants, we come to realize that what we must aspire to is not master chef-hood, but that we one day eat their food. The purpose of the thing in its original Japanese broadcast was clearly to provide some extra advertising for gourmet restaurants in Japan, so I can't exactly claim that the new broadcast has perverted the nature of the show. But the meaning's changed for me, and now I wince and watch it through my fingers.
So this was where I saw, or rather heard, this commercial. The gas range moans loudly, in a deep Jersey accent that says nothing so much as "I'm here to fix your pipes" or "I am James Gandolfini." They even use that Wilhem of sexual dialogue, "a little to the left." The woman goes through a slight range of emotions: first she is beatifically happy that she gets to use Soft Scrub Scrubby Wipes rather than regular baby wipes; then she is shocked that her gas range is making these noises; then she is disturbed, but intent on cleaning it very thoroughly as it groans; and finally she is indulgently smug as she tosses the used sponge into a gleaming trash bin and the range sighs "Oh yeaaah. Nice. Niiice."
As with most ads that sexualize the figure of a wife or (even worse) mother, the tone here is of consent grudgingly given, bought, or negotiated for. Think of the ubiquitous diamond ads around Valentine's day, or the Wendy's ad in which the wife, dressed as a Wendy's employee, grouses "I'm only doing this because it's your birthday." Here, the factor that makes it worthwhile for Conjugal McMilf to polish that grill is that it's "easily clean." The unpleasant task is over in record time, and she can get on with her day.
Based on a passing familiarity with Bernays and the two or three episodes of Mad Men I've seen, I'll often try to picture advertising meetings that lead to this kind of thing. And you know, I want to be charitable here. I want to be hopeful in my life. I want to believe that the age of eroticizing housework for women is over, and that the sexual connotations here are some kind of innocent mistake that none of the hundreds of people involved in the production of the commercial intended. If that were the case, I can't believe no one would have said "Hey, instead of a porn star voice, couldn't we have the range make dog noises? Because almost no one has sex with their dogs?" It's unquestionably intentional.
The only thing I can really wonder about is whether the timing of this ad--for I only began seeing it around February--is meant to tie in to the stereotypical tradition of the obligatory Valentine's blowjob. Does Soft Scrub picture a woman, tired of married life, tired of drudgery and performative sex, picking up the product that promises them it can all be over soon?
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