Abercrombie Underwear Shop Plays Up Goods, but Not Its Own
Bob Garfield
Advertising Age
March 10, 2008
Just when you thought there weren't enough mall stores
to satisfy you, Courtney, Morgan, Topher and Zach, along
comes Abercrombie & Fitch to sell you underwear with a
spinoff chain called Gilly Hicks, Sydney.
It's not called that because there are any Gilly Hicks
stores in Sydney or planned for Sydney. It's not called
that because anyone named Gilly Hicks actually exists or
existed. It's called that because, well, an Australian
theme worked out just swell for Outback Steakhouse and
also because Australia is Down Under.
Down Under. Get it?
So Abercrombie has contrived an elaborate brand
"history" for Gilly Hicks, a history there is no need to
recount here, because it is just made up -- like
Crocodile Dundee's "Walkabout Creek" and Mel Gibson's
version of the Holocaust. Australia-ishness is only half
of the brand's story. The other half is: "The Finest
Underwear Ever Made."
Oh, wait. No it isn't. The other half of the Gilly Hicks
pitch is more of a lifestyle appeal, namely: "You're 16,
and you are therefore a walking-talking hormone engine,
so why not visit our website, declare yourself at least
18 and watch our semi-soft-porn vignette? There are
nipples involved!"
There is also a whole mess of other nudity, plus an
implied liaison between a topless WASP mermaid and an
altogether underwear-free beach boy with a butt carved
from stone. Product showcase this isn't. No, it's an
exercise in sexual fantasy -- one that should be
completely transparent to the target generation reputed
for being able to see through all manner of marketing
come-ons. Furthermore ... Sydney? Does Abercrombie
suppose that bit of marketing perjury won't be punished
in the (excuse the expression) kangaroo court of public
opinion?
Yes, that's exactly what Abercrombie supposes, because
Abercrombie is right. The Venetian Hotel and Casino is
in Las Vegas, not Venice, but gamblers still flock there
to see the fake canals. Epcot France isn't France, but
countless tourists have visited there for a romantic
French Kissimmee. And Häagen-Dazs was born in the Bronx.
Marketing gimmicks don't have to be authentic -- merely
plausible. Think Benihana of Tokyo and "The New Nixon."
It's just a question of willing suspension of disbelief.
And Gilly Hicks' targets will willingly suspend, because
why wouldn't they? They've already embraced faded, faux
prep as the uniform of a generation; naturally they'll
buy "casual luxury" bras and boxers and panties that
suggest sex appeal not in the tarted-up Victoria's
Secret way but in the fashion of
Exclusive-Private-School-Girls Gone Wild.
The question is, how we are to regard a marketer that is
selling sexual fantasy to high school kids? (The company
will declare its target is 18-plus, but pay no
attention.) Obviously, there is already a cornucopia of
sexual content readily available to the same audience.
Just as obviously, the beach assignation portrayed in
the GH video is tame, and almost sweet, in comparison to
the sea of online porn. But crack is readily available,
too. Does that mean McDonald's should be selling it?
Don't strain; the answer is "no." But perhaps that's not
the answer in this case. Yes, casual sex among teenagers
and young adults has many consequences, most of them bad
-- from broken hearts to unwanted pregnancy to HIV. And
without moralizing or living in denial, maybe we should
be sad that the culture permits a major corporation to
pander to adolescent sexuality.
Alas, that's the point. The Sydney fiction is a petty
lie, but the normalization of casual sex is simply a
reflection of the real world, where increasingly
anything goes down under. We can wince all we want, but
this is one the culture has decided for us.