Wired868 Wired868 for smart sport news and opinion
What is a Crixism? That was the latest campaign for Crix, regional stalwart for a hundred years, according to its manufacturers, Bermudez Biscuit Company.
In its first appearance, it was simply called salt biscuits. I remember my paternal grandfather, who squatted on the chair that was part of a beautifully crafted dining set, stained a rich dark brown, to have his evening tea in a big green enamel cup, dipping those salt biscuits in it until they were a gross mush.
Those salt biscuits that evolved into the ubiquitous Crix—the vital supplies endorsed by Mr Wink—have become such standard household ingredients that knowing the brand identifies you as a Caribbean person.
I was thinking about this as the Crixism ads appeared over the Christmas season, and it occurred to me that over the years, Crix advertisements have been consistently excellent.
I figure it is because the advertisers have based them on a philosophical premise of identity. The ads focus on reminding us about who we are—the special characteristics that serve to define us—and they do it so light-heartedly that it makes us smile about our own quirks and foibles.
My intention is not to jump on a Crix bandwagon; I really set out to write about some of the advertising I have seen recently. (I find myself looking closely at ads when they interrupt cricket coverage.)
Some of the advertising content leaves me wondering whether there is any regulatory body monitoring the statements and assertions.
One particular set always triggers those thoughts, and I will not call the brand name because I am sure the editor will advise against it.
Obviously it is a company with a large advertising budget, because they have been at it on a significant scale, covering all angles. Infomercials, testimonials, endorsements from a wide range of public personalities—it’s a veritable bombardment.
Image: Glasbergen.com
Mostly, I just shake my head at the nature of the content. One of them really annoyed me, though. It features very young children, saying that their mummy and daddy should take this product, for the stated reasons.
Why on earth would you exploit these little ones to endorse something about which they have no reason to know anything about?
Of course, I had to check if that was even ethical. I looked at the Standards of Practice adopted by the board of directors of the Advertising Agencies Association of Trinidad and Tobago in November 2017 to see if there was any relevant code.
According to 8.1.2.13, advertising should “not contain or refer to any personal testimonial unless it is genuine, current, related to the experience of the person giving to and representative of typical and not exceptional cases. The claims in the testimonial should be verifiable”. Verifiable.
There was another at 8.1.2.5: “have all stated claims therein, whether direct or implied, is supported by sound scientific research and data, and should not contain misleading, exaggerated or distorted statements regarding the true meanings from a scientific or professional authority and subjective claims”.
Some of the assertions of the efficacy of these products seem to contradict what might be described as the “fine print” associated with the use of such substances.
(Copyright New Yorker)
Most of the endorsers were careful to say that they felt some improvement once they started using the product, but they often mentioned the lifestyle changes, which must certainly be the more significant contributor to the enhanced quality of life.
At another level, these products are not cheap. If people want to spend hundreds of dollars to buy things like turmeric and garlic that are readily available for a few dollars, I suppose that’s their business. But it struck me that this is one of the elements that distinguishes the Crix ads from many others.
Those Crix ads have consistently celebrated who we are, reminded us of our roots, and encouraged us to keep close to the simple things in life.
Many other brands and products focus on exactly the opposite. They strive to inculcate in us a sense of dissatisfaction with ourselves. They promise us that our lives will be better through transformations wrought by their products—and we buy into it.
I suppose it is the power of marketing.
Sometimes they take it to such extremes that it becomes ludicrous. Like the deodorants being touted as lasting for 72 hours. Why would you want a deodorant to go for three days?
We in the Caribbean, with the unrelenting heat, instinctively find the idea of not washing off sweat to be distasteful. But let’s say you shower daily, will the deodorant survive?
Wouldn’t you then be squeamish about what’s in it? Is it for people who have no access to sanitation? What really is its point?
Or what about the very expensive refrigerators that were on show at the technology trade show in Las Vegas this week? It can tell you what’s inside and give you recipe advice based on the contents.
Image: Glasbergen.com
Or the mirror that tells you if you need more toner, or retinol, or sunscreen. Like being under the magnifying glass of a frowning cosmetologist (not a dermatologist) all the time—probably with recommendations for branded products to transform you into the social media presence you’ve been longing to become.
Marketing and advertising are powerful presences, but so fraught with possibility for brainwashing that we have to be careful what we buy into.
I suggested that people might not be offering their views on constitutional reform because they do not know what is Read more
In the late 1990s, in response to one of my weekly columns, retired Professor Emeritus Desmond Imbert called me. It Read more
In a land where public institutions are symbols of frustration, two stand out by dint of their commitment to service Read more
(This column was written on the day he died, before I knew.) In January 2021, I wrote a column about Read more
It’s an idea just taking root, and having thrown it out last week, I figure I could try to see Read more
I don’t actually mean that we should have a ministry of festivals, in the sense of a state-controlled body—that kind Read more
