Tragedy, farce, ad copy

The three genres

-For The Canadian Jewish News, I wrote about the Reiners, and the radical idea that Jews are people.

-For kicks, I watched Season 1 of Emily in Paris. From 2020, which is now, pains me to say, rerun central, although I’m not sure if shows still airing count as such. (OK, Midsomer Murders definitely does, so, maybe?) I can relate to the show more than you’re meant to. It’s notoriously non-relatable, but do I know what it’s like to be young, pale, brunette, and move from Chicago to the center of Paris? To deal professionally with haughty and judgmental French people? Mais oui!

Now it is not by any means a realistic show, but it’s on you if you’re expecting that from it. It’s Darren Star’s show, so it’s got that Sex and the City confection-absurdity sensibility. The best scene has a fictitious couturier sulking, in bed, in his gorgeous Parisian home, with a tray containing a ridiculous number of crème brûlées in front of him.

And one can revisit all the early-days SATC discourse, is this straight women as ourselves or straight women as gay men? And I have as always no good answer (though, uh, stay tuned), only I feel obliged to mention that Lucas Bravo as chef Gabriel is a casting choice that tells you someone with an eye for such things was involved with this production. There’s even stuff in the plot of one of the earlier episodes, where a very American Emily chastizes the French for prioritizing the male over female gaze, and then it’s like the show gives Emily what she wants. The men are interesting to look at, one of them especially, but then Sylvie, her mean older boss, is a walking how-to-look-French older-woman inspiration board.

As for Emily herself, I know I should have thoughts about how she dresses, and she dresses like a modern-day Carrie Bradshaw, with a twee twist. It’s fun to look at but I have zero interest in owning the clothes myself.

-There’s a style of marketing that relies on the overall crappiness of things sold today, points to that, and says, see, we are not that thing. There are no plastics. That is where the appeal begins and ends. One weird effect of enshittification is the proliferation of these brands whose entire claim to fame would seem to be their non-usage of filler. And these ads are EVERYWHERE, or maybe it’s just my algorithm?

One such brand sells all-cotton underwear. It is very noble, this underwear. It is also cut in a way that looks both frumpy and uncomfortable and with underwear you gotta go with one at most. Another sells rugs made out of only wool, that can allegedly go in a washing machine, which is not surprising because so can bathmats and that’s what these rugs look like. They come in greige and other-greige. These companies are CANADIAN and this is also central to their messaging. Buy Canadian, but also, don’t pay tariffs. Fine. But I don’t want that thing on my floor, or that other thing in my underwear drawer. Sorry! Natural materials and Canadianness is not enough.

It’s not just brands though. Also listings for used furniture, aka my perma-open tabs these days. “Solid wood.” Great. Anything else appealing about the item in question? Because if I’m going to bring something into my home I am hoping for something more in its favor than ‘not particleboard.’ And I get it, you have to describe items in a positive light, but there’s just something so bleak about ‘they don’t make ‘em like they used to’ as the entire point of an object.

That, and there are diminishing returns. That an item was well-made in 1970 does not mean it has held up. 1870, OK, it gets points for still existing.

Or there’s this dining table I’m visiting on Marketplace, where the seller’s posting assures that it would have once sold for “thousands.” I mean, maybe? But not in its current condition! Which they know which is why they’re not even asking for that to begin with. (I may yet purchase the table in question. But if I do, rest assured it is not because I believe it is anything beyond what it is, which is a table with some dings but the semi-specific shape I’ve got in mind.)

What I’m really mad at, here, is my own potential susceptibility to this sort of marketing. But at least I’m aware of it, which helps with getting ahead of it. I have absolutely clicked on the ad for the mediocre underwear, but have I bought it? To my greatest credit, I have not. Same with the rugs. I found the ad copy intriguing, but was able to restrain myself when I caught a glimpse of the rugs themselves.