I have never been much of a fan of euphemism — it always conjures up images of a cucumber-sandwich society. More so in a multicultural environment like ours, where not everyone may know what you mean by ”the WC”.
Or you could come across as patronising.
But growing up knowing it was more polite to remark that Great-aunt Edna ”had her cupboards taken out” (had a hysterectomy) proves that ”the use of a mild or indirect expression instead of a direct or blunt one” does sometimes have its upsides.
But one can never assume too much. Which is the message I wish could somehow be transmitted to the ”creative teams” that drive the advertising industry. Particularly the midwives who delivered the latest twins into the ”adult” market.
The first is ”Lil-lets Fresh Feminine Wipes”. Ah yes, another product ”especially designed for discreet personal hygiene, to keep you feeling clean and fresh, anywhere, any time!”
The second is Brazilian soccer legend, Edson Arantes do Nascimento, aka Pele, in a series of ads plugging the benefits of Viagra.
In both cases, unless you are quite a sharp knife in the drawer, euphemistically speaking, you are never actually aware of what the products are for.
In the Lil-lets ad, a pastel-clad gymslip model whirls and twirls around the screen, to the sound of happy music, while a voice-over expounds the joys of ”intimate feminine use” and ”everyday freshness”.
For those who can afford to buy it, the product is, as you might have guessed, the humble Wet Wipe in a pretty package, or those lemon-fragranced things you get on the plane after your pretzels or salmon hors d’oeuvres.
But for those women mortified at the thought of leaking all over the boardroom floor, or offending humankind with their odour, the wipes are ”thick” and ”soft”, ”perfect for the handbag”, and have an added calendula extract.
Old Pele, who turns 62 in October, is just as evasive, walking around in locker rooms talking euphemistically about ”a problem” and, in the ad’s grand finale, to a roaring crowd in the Maracana soccer stadium, the legendary footballer intones: ”Talk to your physician.”
Pele’s involvement in the TV and poster ads for the little blue pill made by Pfizer is part of a campaign, say its organisers, to ”destigmatise erectile dysfunction”. But unless you know about Viagra, you’d be forgiven for not getting it.
And although he is the face of the drug, Pele, rather wisely I think, made it clear in interviews that he was only doing a job.
”If I had impotence I would not hesitate to talk about this with my GP,” he reportedly said.
Pfizer says Pele will be involved in a general health-awareness campaign, which won’t be drug specific. Yeah, right.
Given that, according to the same Pfizer, about 140-million men in the world are impotent and 15-million of them have already taken Viagra, the words have a hollow ring.
But it is right in saying the ad is not specific. Besides the flitting little blue logo in the corner of the screen, if you hadn’t followed the media hype, or knew about Pfizer, you’d be forgiven for slipping off to the pub, not knowing what the old codger is on about.
Likewise for the Lil-lets ad. It’s an old feminist argument that capitalism thrives on images of women as leaky vessels that need accessories. But some get it wrong, believing that a woman who groans at yet another ”I’m on my period but I can still live” ad does so because she lives in mortal fear that a man may somehow see it and realise that she has a vagina that bleeds.
Speaking for myself here, the groan comes more from feeling patronised.
What would certainly help is a clarifier if you’re one of those women who can’t understand why anyone is trying to sell you a ”gentle cleansing wipe” when there are already tampons, pads and panty liners on the market.
”Why not just say, look girls, you’re dirty: it’s for wiping your guava!” one of my friends retorted. Who can blame ad agencies for not using actual flaccid penises in adverts, or demonstrations with menstruating women. That kind of thing still freaks people out.
But there are ”creative ways” of doing these things. In the good old days when a spade was a spade, tampon advertisers would at least illustrate their products’ absorbencies by stuffing tampons in jars filled with blue liquids (they hadn’t graduated to red). Nowadays, though, it has become complicated. Even if it were possible to televise why a woman needs a ”feminine wipe”, it would be a cold day in hell before any man, let alone a famous one, actually says publicly that he can’t get it up.
So perhaps it’s the dearth of case studies that forces ad agencies to use stupid euphemisms illustrating impotence or menstruation, as if it were something too arcane to be even spoken about, except in hushed tones.
But things needn’t end there. I could think of several ways to illustrate impotence, for instance, without actually saying the word.
Except I don’t like cucumber sandwiches.