If I recall correctly, the first time I saw the logo BUM, it was actually B.U.M. Equipment, and it was written across the front of a sweatshirt worn by a young woman whose bosom was definitely not bum equipment. It looked like false advertising to me (the possible pun on “falsie” is terribly inviting). It reminded me of a T-shirt one of my especially busty high school students wore as a memento of her recent trip to the Grand Tetons. That, at least, seemed like truth in advertising.
The latter makes more sense to me than the former. “I’ve been to the Grand Tetons” makes a statement of autobiography. BUM doesn’t mean a vagrant, or poor quality manufacture, or broken or lame limbs. It means “I’m advertising for a company, and paying that company for the privilege.” What a great racket.
I wear shirts and sweatshirts that have the names or logos of universities I’ve attended or worked for. They remind me of my history. I wear shirts that remind me of races I have run in, charities I’ve worked for, milestones I’ve accomplished in the swimming pool. They mean something about my life, and others can notice if they wish. I do not choose clothes that advertise products.
And yet, I don’t much care if others do. I understand that brands can become codes for status. If people, especially young people, find some kind of security in the status of Gap or Levi or Guess or whatever the latest is, so be it. That is relatively harmless. It makes for good business for Gap or Levi or Guess, which is fine, too. I have no fear of capitalism or of profit, nor do I find myself very often noticing the ads. They are ubiquitous, so I don’t see them very often. When I’m on a beach, I seldom notice a single grain of sand.
This really is the arena for sociologists, who will study these matters for trends, rather than for an English teacher who is interested in the motives and choices of individuals. I’ve been aware for my whole teaching career of the hegemony of jeans. (Jeez, that sounds cool—I’m glad I thought of that phrase.) The state of “jeanness” reigns in my classrooms. When no uniform is required, the uniform is jeans. The benefit of uniforms is they demand no thought, no decisions. Jeans have become the uniform of informality. The only way to accomplish status with jeans is to choose them by brand. “Nothing comes between me and my….”—and suddenly I’m seeing a young Brooke Shields presenting her inviting rump tightly wrapped in…I’ve forgotten which brand of jeans. I remember the pose, though. The message to men: women who wear that kind of jeans are desirable; the message to women: if you wear that kind of jeans, you can be as desirable as Brooke Shields. A thought: was the use of the word “comes” offensive? Subtle?
I think that might be the whole point of advertising. In order to sell a product, you appeal to a desire, or you provoke a desire.
Just what is BUM Equipment, by the way, and why should anyone desire it? Does it have something to do with the stories of our lives?
The latter makes more sense to me than the former. “I’ve been to the Grand Tetons” makes a statement of autobiography. BUM doesn’t mean a vagrant, or poor quality manufacture, or broken or lame limbs. It means “I’m advertising for a company, and paying that company for the privilege.” What a great racket.
I wear shirts and sweatshirts that have the names or logos of universities I’ve attended or worked for. They remind me of my history. I wear shirts that remind me of races I have run in, charities I’ve worked for, milestones I’ve accomplished in the swimming pool. They mean something about my life, and others can notice if they wish. I do not choose clothes that advertise products.
And yet, I don’t much care if others do. I understand that brands can become codes for status. If people, especially young people, find some kind of security in the status of Gap or Levi or Guess or whatever the latest is, so be it. That is relatively harmless. It makes for good business for Gap or Levi or Guess, which is fine, too. I have no fear of capitalism or of profit, nor do I find myself very often noticing the ads. They are ubiquitous, so I don’t see them very often. When I’m on a beach, I seldom notice a single grain of sand.
This really is the arena for sociologists, who will study these matters for trends, rather than for an English teacher who is interested in the motives and choices of individuals. I’ve been aware for my whole teaching career of the hegemony of jeans. (Jeez, that sounds cool—I’m glad I thought of that phrase.) The state of “jeanness” reigns in my classrooms. When no uniform is required, the uniform is jeans. The benefit of uniforms is they demand no thought, no decisions. Jeans have become the uniform of informality. The only way to accomplish status with jeans is to choose them by brand. “Nothing comes between me and my….”—and suddenly I’m seeing a young Brooke Shields presenting her inviting rump tightly wrapped in…I’ve forgotten which brand of jeans. I remember the pose, though. The message to men: women who wear that kind of jeans are desirable; the message to women: if you wear that kind of jeans, you can be as desirable as Brooke Shields. A thought: was the use of the word “comes” offensive? Subtle?
I think that might be the whole point of advertising. In order to sell a product, you appeal to a desire, or you provoke a desire.
Just what is BUM Equipment, by the way, and why should anyone desire it? Does it have something to do with the stories of our lives?
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