|
OK, so last night, I took a break from politics and attended a focus group. (I posted about this a few days ago.)
About makeup.
Those of you who know me understand I am in no way qualified to speak about makeup, and my interest in cosmetics ranks somewhere between my interest in the in-field fly rule and my interest in the comparative merits of lager versus ale (but I can fake baseball and beer better than I can fake foundation). If I spent more $30 on makeup last year, I'd be surprised.
But, they were paying me $50 and giving me dinner. So, I went.
I was part of the "twentysomething" group...I was the oldest by almost three years (except for the moderator), and the longest-tenured in my career field by more than four years. Immediately, "Creep" crept into my head. What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here...
I don't go to clubs. My hobby is not rollerblading. (We were asked, and my answer was predictable, as was the moderator's reply: "Politics. Wow. I don't think anyone's ever said that before. You gonna run for something?") I don't think I've ever set foot in a day spa (if I have, it was to ask directions to the nearest SuperCuts). I am perfectly willing to spend $30 on a bottle of wine, but balk at spending more than $4 on a lipstick. I identify much more strongly with my 30- to 40-year-old Gen X peers than my 20-29 decade-mates, and last night was a prime example (nothing against you young 'uns -- I'm just prematurely old).
I knew this when one of the 23-year-olds in the group mentioned "hides fine lines" as something that won't get her attention until she's "like 30 or so."
I should also add I'm pretty immune to marketingese. We reviewed several different ad mock-ups for a new foundation. The company wanted to emphasize purity. Fine. All well and good. One suggested tagline? "Over 50% pure water!"
Um. The human body is over 50% water. So is every other foundation in existance -- and I'm sure they filter their water, too.
It got pretty warm in there. I think I was getting a little unstable.
We brainstormed names for the water product; most dealt with the word "water" and its foreign-language equivalents. ("Agua fresca!" "AquaFresh!" "Wait, isn't that a toothpaste?")
I suggested "aquavit." Swedish vodka. The water of life. Then, I suggested just using vodka, since that translates as "water." The weird stares started. I was getting slap happy.
Then, we started going into the "basics" direction. I suggested "elements," and the moderator said, "oh, you mean like breaking it down to its smallest part." "Well, then, maybe atoms. Or quarks, then."
I can picture the people behind the one-way glass, writing "oh, dear lord, that old chick is nerding it up," which is what I tend to do in most situations.
The moderator wrote "quark" on the chart.
If you see Quark Foundation in a store, buy some and blame me, and apologize to the guy who no doubt lost his job because of it.
So, the moral of the story (besides don't call me for cosmetics surveys any more)? I think this carries over politics (can't get away from it for too long). Not all 20-somethings respond well to youth-oriented marketing (John Kerry -- I'm also talking to you). There is something between "won't clog pores with all of that gunk and junk that causes pimples" and "get yer wrinkle cream here," something between "John Kerry can shake it like a Polaroid picture" and "paying for prescription drugs is tough when you're on a fixed retirement income."
Whether it's makeup or a candidate, try marketing to adults as adults.
It was really quiet when we left, until one of the women (25, a new nursing graduate) remarked in the elevator, "your outlook is so ... interesting. You must have an ... interesting life."
But I got my $50.
And the name Reagan didn't come up once.
|