One of the ways that marketing is so effective on so many people is that it can literally “imprint” a concept/idea/emotion into our heads that may have nothing to do factually with the product in question. This is, of course, Marketing 101, but you’d be surprised at how much all of us are reeled in by it.
How does this imprinting work? It’s a combination of inconspicuous (sometimes combined with conspicuous) messages, images, and/or words.
On the back of a New Yorker from a few months ago I saw an ad for Subaru. In it we see an attractive silver sedan against the backdrop of a gorgeous, stirring, slightly stormy, heavily Photoshopped sunset skyline in front of which is a bridge with a road that has the word speed written all over it (the blurred headlights and tail lights). The image is clean, precise, and seductive; yet in reality it has little to do with the car. The Subaru Legacy is merely a collection of metal and plastic shaped, formed, and constructed in a certain way — it has nothing to do with the inviting picture combined with the overtly insinuating phrase “Can a drive have an afterglow?”.
Connecting an alluring image with the idea of sex has always worked wonders for marketers, and here we can see it in a more subtle light. The car itself has darkened windows, which creates a slightly mysterious and provocative situation for the reader. This ad is clearly not geared for a bunch a party crazy college co-eds; I would say that it’s aimed directly at 30 to 50-something folk who the marketers want to make feel that owning a sedan can be exciting and inspiring — just like good ol’ sex can.
The tagline at the very bottom reads: “Love. It’s what makes a Subaru, a Subaru.” Wrong again. Love has nothing to do with it, I’m sorry to say. It bears repeating that it’s very important to note that not one of the things “imprinted” on us has anything to do with the car itself; just the image, emotion, and feel that the advertiser wants us to pick up on.
I was pulled in briefly by this ad before my mind kicked in and thought for itself — and I’m hyper aware of this stuff. So it can and does happen to all of us.
