I was at Target the other day, (I know, shocking.) and because I spent so much time at a Professional Development training thing, I was practically brain dead so I mostly just wandered about after I got the one thing I actually needed to get. (Cat food, because Target is the only place that carries exactly the kind they like, unless I want to order the GIANT BAG O’FOOD from Amazon and I already order a monolith of cat litter from there and I think I’m starting to give the impression that my cats run my life, and oh, yeah.)
So there I was staggering around the health and beauty aisles of Target, because when in doubt, buy a Bath Bomb because Target carries the kind with a prize inside, so yay, fizzy yummy bath with a present. And, as, usual, I found myself looking at the make-up.
I truly love make-up. I just never really have the chance to really glam up. (I know I could do serious make-up every day, but since I spend most of my days herding cats or kids, it seems pointless.) I looked at all of the pretty colors and since I don’t get to talk to grown-ups very often I started a conversation with the Target lady who was eyeing me suspiciously as if I were going to run gleefully amok amongst the unguents and potions.
I mentioned to Target Lady that I was allowed to wear mascara when I was in the Eighth grade and then we both strolled down the misty, Aqua-Net scented blocks of Memory Lane (I suspect some climate change is directly linked to hair bands, groupies and Cholas of the late 80’s)
I mulled this over as I drove home. I have very vivid memories of the Faberge Wheat Germ Oil and Honey shampoo commercials talking about how lovely your hair would look if only you used it. Their commercials featured a blonde, natural (ha!) beauty, thus giving the impression that if you used their oddly gooey shampoo you would also have lovely and luxorios locks just like their model. There was also a wildly successful advertising campaign that explained why it was so popular (And they told two friends and so on and so on.)
The ad campaign was so successful that it was lampooned in Wayne’s World. (Would that be an ad campoon?)
Well, the campaign worked. I remember being in grade school and wanting the shampoo, just knowing that it would transform a dumpy kid whose Catholic School uniform wasn’t doing her boxy shape any good into a glamorous willowy blonde.
If I knew then what I know now, that even the model in the commercial didn’t look like that and probably had a zillion wind machines and stylists and probably a personal trainer and lived on a diet of cottage cheese and Tab, and even if I had those things I was in the Fourth Grade and who ever heard of a nine-year-old shampoo salesmen.
And why would I want to? Ask two friends and get back to me.