Best of the Week: That Gillette ad; R U OK?

[View web version]( BEST OF THE WEEK And another thing... I have a confession to make. It’s midnight, approximately 10 hours and 10 minutes before this weekly ritual is meant to hit your inboxes. I’ve been at the tennis. I’ve been drinking. And I still don’t know how I feel about [that Gillette ad](. I was hoping that the panic of the deadline would force me into some kind of stance on the issue. In an effort to “unpack” this beast (a phrase right up there with “action” and “deep dive” in adland’s Bullshit Bingo), I sought out male company today. So I found myself sitting at lunch with Jules Lund - which consisted of the most Melbourne meal to ever be forced into existence: toasted bread, a half avocado, a slab of feta cheese and a sprinkle of spices, all so perfectly separated that you actually had to construct it yourself. In the words of Mr Lund, I am “the worst orderer on the planet”. He says so with good reason. Last time we were together was the morning after the night before. I’d been [attacked in a taxi]( eight hours prior. I’d shown up to breakfast in Bondi and given him no indication that I was not okay (except, perhaps, my atrocious appearance, but thus far, he has been kind enough not to comment on the disaster that would have been how I presented myself that morning). On that fateful Wednesday, I ordered what can only be described as a bowl of coconut goop. I was not hungry. I panicked. In my post-traumatic morning haze I couldn’t order bacon (too heavy), or eggs (too eggy), or anything normal (menus are scary), so I pretended I wanted to be healthy, and coconut goop it was. This goop never ended. No matter how much I scooped at it, more appeared. It was like some sick Willy Wonka-esque joke. There was nothing I could do to defeat it. Jules had no idea what was going on my brain (he probably never does), and just watched in bewildered fascination as I prattled on about coconut goop, and how much I wished paramedics were given a better deal (a side issue I’ll talk to you about at some other point). I’ve clashed with Jules in the past about gender politics. Whether it’s the [Gentlemen’s Gin Club]( - which for reasons that are both our own, we still disagree about years later - or issues fuelled different upbringings, current positions and perspectives, we don’t see eye to eye on. (Not to mention the time [I listened in on a podcast and caused him all sorts of problems]( - but the debate about whether podcasts are for general media consumption, or if, as Wil Anderson believes, they exist in a realm where there is an unspoken agreement between listeners and broadcasters that it’s all cool, and no-one should pass this on beyond the safe space of podcasters: cool things for cool people - is a debate for another day). In this case though, I didn’t know what on Earth I thought about this now infamous Gilllette ad. And I needed help. What was the vibe on Gillette? If I come at men for not understanding why [Ultra Tune is so shit](, then I need to listen to men about what damage this ad could be doing. Because, Christ, that’s what the headlines are screaming. I spent all day meeting with men to try and formulate my opinion on this. Not because I can’t form an opinion on an issue without the input of a man (see: Ultra Tune, [taxis](, [Ad Standards failing consumers and adland](, and [Alan Jones versus the Opera House](, plus basically everything I’ve ever spoken about on the Mumbrellacast), but because I wasn't particularly inspired to issue you an offensive diatribe either way (that assessment of my opinion pieces is brought to you by Ultra Tune’s national marketing manager Rod Cedaro). It would shock the Rods of the world (and the broflakes of the world) to know I am genuinely torn with this one. I know, how outrageous. The lefty feminist won’t take a stand (although, while I have you, please take a look at the #10yearchallenge of the polar bears and the ice caps, because, fuck me, that’s triggering). I was off work for a lot of this week, so stayed away from a lot of it. So, as Jules pointed out, by the time I got around to it, I watched the ad with the “controversial” label already slapped on it. I was not viewing it blind. CONTROVERSY. I live for it. But more than anything, I found it boring. Anyone working in television knows you can lure me in with a show reel. Get me some emotional clips, whack an inspirational song on it, and I’d buy your ad inventory for the year. The power of television. I’m sold. So this, combined with the fact I have been exposed to these behaviours - if not belittled/ hurt/ overlooked/ harassed/ assaulted because they exist - should mean I’m on board with a “virtue signalling” ad for snowflakes which caters to the PC brigade. I mean, I am Chief Snowflake of the PC Brigade, after all. The ad fell flat for me though. Not because #notallmen. Not because it’s out of touch. Please don’t even try and deny that shit goes on - you’re kidding yourself. The last guy I went home with failed to tell me it was his Buck’s Night, and another guy stole my phone because I wouldn’t go home with him, then there’s the assaults, harassments and downright bullying which I've been the victim of, but for now, are less funny stories that we don’t have the column inches for. So, lols aside, I simply have no more time for lies and bullshit from men who think they’re above this nonsense and that it doesn't happen. It does go on. You know it. I know it. It’s toxic for both genders. But, didn’t the ad feel a bit flat to you? Maybe it didn’t go hard enough. I’m not sure what I wanted from it. As Jules pointed out, I came at it with E X P E C T A T I O N, because it had already been lumped with the controversial #hashtag, and men were already flushing their razors down the toilet (spoiler alert: Don’t do that. It doesn’t go well. You’ll just cause yourself a plumbing issue and regret it. Perhaps set your Nikes on fire instead?) But, with women like Aiia Maasarwe dying on the street, women dying in their homes, and men also being the victims of toxic masculinity, for me, this ad skated on the surface too much. If it’s going to take this stance, it should have been more confronting (or at least been cut better). It reminded me of something we would have cut together as 16-year-olds. Sexism = bad. Big bad men in board rooms = bad. But, as a brand which has probably contributed to the perception of men being men being men being men, perhaps they needed to step softly into their reversal of that stance. We need to demand more, they say, after perpetuating the opposite for decades. The Daily Telegraph’s Miranda Devine will tell you it’s virtue signalling of the worst kind, alienating its target audience, and waging an unnecessary war on masculinity - and look, I love nothing more than disagreeing with Miranda, so for now, I’ll say, if it gets a conversation going with the next generation of men about being less shit, then I’m all for it. Does this mean all men are terrible? Absolutely not. You know that and I know that, despite what the contents of my ‘Cat Ladies’ group chat would have you believe. But one less shit behaviour is a win, surely? And look, I’m nothing if not a bag of contradictions, because as I am writing this, R Kelly’s The World’s Greatest has come on my Spotify, and it’s making me type faster, and remember how optimistic and star-gazingly ‘what if’ I was when our designated inspirational speaker Glenn used it as the soundtrack to a video about me and my gal pals summarising our Year 12 Retreat in 2005 as we headed into the HSC. (Okay, it was about the whole grade's retreat, but I only recall my moments in the sun). It was #inspo, before hashtag inspo was a thing. See above, RE me and show reels. Sucker. Sold. My shoulder popping to R Kelly in itself is disgusting enough to some of you. And, look, fair play. As someone who took a stance against cocaine last week, because of its impact on people, cultures, nations, workplaces and environments, here I am with my Oyster Bay Sav Blanc, my Aeroplane Jelly Mug Cake (ask me about it later) and my R Kelly, who it’s pretty much understood is a sex pest, if not worse, helping me through. It’s ironic - again, probably in the Alanis Morissette sense of the word - that I’m so liberal with R Kelly, but if Chris Brown (who bashed Rihanna) comes on, it’s game over. His tune, Forever, is just as catchy, although perhaps didn’t catch me at such a seminal moment as R Kelly’s World’s Greatest when I was weighing up what I thought was my entire life (spoiler alert, I thought I was going to be editor of Girlfriend magazine and / or a Geography teacher. I went on to top Geography, and, well, it feels like the Girlfriend aspiration is a bit out of reach, but a girl can dream). But as I’ve spoken about, we all draw lines in different places. I have a friend who loves cocaine so much, she literally went to a cocaine making class in Colombia. I don’t even know if I am using the right words to describe what she did there. I am so out of touch. But what I can tell you, is she loves cocaine in Colombia. But if Chris Brown came on in a club back when we were young enough to go to clubs, she would do this amazing thing where she just stopped. She could go from being the highest person in the club who was living every moment on a planetary dimension I did not understand, to being the winner of every musical statues competition ever dreamt of. She would not dance to Chris Brown. He hit a woman. And that’s not on. And is that not the message of the Gillette campaign? I think we can all agree it’s super sloppily executed. It’s overdone. It’s patronising. It comes across as decision by committee. There’s so many issues in there, it almost waters them all down. Will it sell more razors? We’ll see, I guess, but perhaps one less person will dance to Chris Brown when nostalgia hits and it comes on at the next wedding, 30th/40th/50th, and for that, we can all be grateful. Plus, it's continued a conversation that we need to have. R U OK? Look, while we’re talking about toxic masculinity and all the things that come with it - whether it’s men not talking about how they’re really feeling as they age, or how they don’t know how to be men in the #metoo era as they unlearn behaviours handed down to them from generations of people who probably learned from those before them too, or if they’re simply struggling because emotions are fucked, and the structures don’t exist for men to go around in circles the way women do until they’ve worked out a way to deal with it, that may or may not consist of just talking about it again (see: Cat Ladies) - I want to take this opportunity to ask if you are okay. While I don’t like it when men deflect from the difficult conversations about the awful actions, behaviours, violence and institutional structures they have benefited from and sometimes, pretended they haven’t even seen only to claim they got to where they are 100% on merit, and scream “You don’t know how hard it it to be a man”, I do agree that the quirks of society are sometimes stacked against you too. I attended a memorial back in December for someone who worked in this space. He had taken his own life. It’s not my place to say why or how this happened. It’s always more complex than a column like this could communicate, and I certainly won’t pretend to be talented enough to bring to life whatever messages and issues he was struggling with . I am not his voice, but the fact is, he doesn’t have his voice any more. That’s the confronting reality. Adland makes a lot of noise about this, and we dedicate a lot of column inches to the issue of mental health as it manifests in those around us. [Research after research]( after research demonstrates it’s a problem, so I want to do more about it. I’ve started some really constructive conversations with people who are going to put their money where their mouth is, and I hope to bring that to you this year. For now though, my Top Songs of 2017 playlist on Spotify is about to take its toll on my patience (that’s not a typo, 2018 felt too recent, and I needed a bit more of a throwback), I’ve eaten my Mug Cake, and I need to be up in a matter of hours to meet my Dad for breakfast before heading back to the tennis. He doesn’t read this, and went to bed at least four hours ago, so tomorrow (actually, today) will be a test of my best ‘Pretend You Aren’t Tired And Dying Inside’ skills. If you’re not okay, talk to someone. I know that’s pop psychology at its finest, but give it a go anyway, please. I hope we can all do more for you this year, and give you the best you can get. Vivienne Kelly Editor vivienne@mumbrella.com.au Sponsored Post The [Cooperate]( platform transforms how marketing teams visualise their customer journey, deliver content at each stage of the journey, and see how it performs - from one place. Australian enterprises like [Monash University,]( [SFI Health](, The Heart Foundation, UNSW and TicToc Home Loans can finally manage content across the customer journey, empowering their teams to visualise the entire journey from start to finish, and manage all of the marketing work in-between. Mumbrella | 46-48 Balfour Street Chippendale NSW 2008 Australia [Unsubscribe](| [Manage Subscriptions]( [Facebook]( [LinkedIn]( [Twitter](