On the stairway landing in my house I have a series of vintage ads that make me smile. There is Santa proclaiming that he would like an Eversharp-Schick shaver in his stocking and the HotPoint fridge that famously “offers more!”
But my favorite is this one here:
I love it for several reasons.
FIRST, Hoovers don’t make me happy. In fact, I hate cleaning so much that the only time I will do it is if I am cleaning someone else’s house (then it is a charitable event) or I am high on steroids. This very morning I was looking around the shambles that ought to be my kitchen and sighed. I will never be able to stop working. I have to justify being able to pay someone else to do this for me…
SECOND, if I did happen to clean my own house, I would probably wear high heels and a dress to do it. I would sip a glass of champagne as I twirled the feather duster around the knick-knacks. I am not saying it would be a quality job, but I would look dang good doing it!
THIRD, it reminds me that I don’t have to have someone else telling me what I need to make me happy. I am not someone else’s ad target. I don’t follow their rules. I find my own things to make me happy. That woman in the brown dress? That is who my parents wanted me to be.
So save your million dollar advertisement budgets for the mindless masses. It won’t work on me! Unless you are my sister in law, in which case I am totally crazy about Legos and you know what is on my Christmas list…