Next week, Target will host a fashion show November 6 and 7 at Grand Central in New York City. The fashion show will be model-less and automated with holograms which will "walk" down a runway. We hope the models who likeness were used to create these holograms got their fair share of green. We wouldn't want Target to be targeted (yes, we did just use a lame pun) by the United Models of America or something over royalty payments or whatever the fashion industry calls them.
Target expects over a million people to see the event in addition to web and mobile viewing. And, just so people don't miss the event, Target has set up text messages to remind people of the event and to send video to their phones.
Delivered with nary a wink, Reuters' Ian Sloan provides news coverage of Japan's Triumph-sponsored Show Me Your Sloggi Contest. Sloan's dry statement, "consumer priorities are shifting to different assets," leads to a woman explaining how everything has been done to breasts to make them more attractive and noticeable, interests are now shifting to women's backsides.
Triumph and Sloggi are well know for their cheekishly exploitive (did we just say that?) tactics for moving lingerie off the shelves. From No Smoking bras to Sloggi's pole dancers to Tiger bras to Sloggi's endless collection of stunts, the two companies are, for sure, fixated with the female ass.
Though very far from the likes of true ass queen, Vida Guerra, Kaho Watanabe is doing her best to uphold Japan's bottom line.
We may always go "eh?" upon seeing one of its campaigns (observe one and two), but the Coffees of Hawaii marketing department is always actively putting coffee in people's hands, and that's admirable.
Coffees of Hawaii debuted its Kona Nightingale coffee at the 2007 Ford Ironman World Championships in Kailua-Kona. Athletes were given little cups of iced espresso out of a floating bar in the week preceding the race.
Hrm. Athletic exertion + icy espresso. The formula for heart failure?
It's definitely memorable.
The Nolita ad at left features Isabelle Caro, a French actress suffering from anorexia.
Guess who's responsible for it? Oliviero Toscani, the guy who fell out of Benetton shortly after his controversial "We, On Death Row" campaign in 2000.
OMG. Just when we thought we'd written this line for the last time, we're gonna write it again: "Just when you thought every last inch of space had been covered with advertising, yet another appears." Most recently, it was the front of washing machines in laundromats. Now, it's the front of plows to promote Audi Canada's Quattro event which aims to get people into dealerships this week to try ot the vehicle.
Accompanied by radio, print and online, five snow plows were outfitted with signage and painted plows which read, "Winter is Coming" along with the dates of the event. As we've said every time before, it's only a matter of time before someone offers to paint our house for free as long as they can paint a giant logo on the front of the house. Lowe Roche created the campaign.
Lucy Liu and Julianne Moore recently stepped out to celebrate the launch of Chivas 25 at the New York Public Library. What? Hard liquor? A library? Someone definitely gets points for this complete no-sequitor. For those who care, Moore was wearing Lanvin, Fred Leighton jewelry and Roger Vivier shoes and Liu was wearing a Zac Posen dress and shoes and jewelry from Bulgari.
WTF? Did we just write that? Who gives a crap? Certainly not us. Just send us a bottle of the stuff, Chivas, and will give you proper props.
Tell me how to nail cheap two-star accommodations in NY the day before Advertising Week, and I'll call you a liar and tell you how you - yes, you - can survive in a youth hostel during a business trip.
Because after (reeeeally) bad planning on my part, that's where I ended up.
At the end of yesterday's Saving Darfur session, which ran a half hour over time, I wandered the streets of New York in desperate pursuit of the 1 Subway line.
After accidentally interrupting the filming of a movie called "Fighting," I located this crucial urban vein, hopped on and trekked to my hotel.
Priceline.com has this cool option where you can "name your price!" on a hotel. The setback is, if they find you a place at "your price!", you're married to it - no refunds, no takebacks. [Ed. Someday we'll elevate ourselves from the slums and hire and executive travel planner who will hunt down and torture Paris Hilton until she orders Hilton Management to put us up at the Waldorf Astoria for $50 a night.]
So it was with surprise, some chagrin and a sudden craving for croissants that I discovered my hotel, attractively dubbed West End Studios, was not a hotel at all but a youth hostel.
The world spun. I'd gone from from Underdressed Amongst Ad Execs to Overdressed to Kill. Flippin' amazing.
The answer: Five execs, a poetic moderator, and two hours.
I'm sitting at a panel called Want to start an AD Agency?!. To my right sits a dude whose name I shall not mention. He expresses sincere, almost meddling interest in the GelaSkin on my MacBook. So I ask why he's here and he says, "Technically I represent BBDO, but really I am here for my own self-interest."
Tell it like it is, yo. "Lots of self-interest stewing around," I say vaguely.
The BBDO guy agrees. "I'm guessing that's why everybody's here," he observes.
This is a covert little world.
It bears mentioning that Panasonic Ideas for Life - Saving Darfur was as much about advertisers' power to set global agendas as it was about the actual plight of Darfur. Call it a conceit, but there's method to the madness.
Advertising played a pivotal role in raising awareness about genocide in Darfur. Some members of the panel expressed having been inspired into their current professions after seeing ads about famine or others' suffering.
After a 4:00 AM dash through the dark, followed by a five-hour bus ride, followed by an eight-block trek with a Streetwise Manhattan map, I've crossed the threshold of the Paley Center and made it to the Promised Land: Advertising Week 2007 in NYC.
Paley's squeak-shined glass windows have become giant YouTube stations. Beyond the lobby, thoughts about marketing by great men and civilians line the walls. The whole set-up fills my eyes with De Beers quality tears. (This may be less of an emotional reaction than exhaustion resulting from insomnia, and the fact that I haven't eaten.)
Apparently members of the press were only able to pick up their passes yesterday morning. This is disappointing. I call Blake the press pass guy. Blake is warm, pleasant and, in fact, female. "I'll bring you your pass around 1:00," she says.
Bummer. It's 10:00 AM, my first session's at 2:30, and I've still got a gigantic duffel bag with me. In a sea of suits I am the one jean jacket. And I'm sweaty and gross, and did I mention I've got a gigantic duffel bag with me?
I look, quite frankly, like an asshole. It's like a scene from Pretty Woman but 10 times worse.