Halloween isn't even over yet and marketers are already worried about Christmas. As well they should be: If the past three months have been any indication, things are going to get progressively worse before they (hopefully!) get any better. And that means families having to scrimp and save this holiday season, which means no more lavish tree, no more unending gallons of eggnog, and most importantly, no more $800 video game consoles for every little boy and girl.
And with companies already feeling the pinch in their ad department, how will Christmas be sold this year, on the saddest, most commercial-free celebration of Christ's birth in recent memory?
CONTINUED »
Okay LC, we've got some good news and some bad news. The good news is you are still rich and are ignorant enough to not be burdened with the recent economic despair that has fallen over the country.
The bad news? No one wants to buy your shitty, overpriced clothing when their golden parachute just turned into an anvil:
CONTINUED »
Mad Men, the Most Important Television Show Ever Reviewed, isn't just a marketer's wet dream, what with all the obvious product placement opportunities. It's also a retailer's boon: The 1960s period drama on AMC has made the era's fashions du moment, with designers looking to the show for inspiration on what to deliver this fall. Michael Kors and Theory have hopped on board, and Bloomingdale's is all but whoring out its display windows for the show. Magazines like GQ are looking to the show's stars for fashion spreads on the season's new suits. Mad Men, just like its ability to influence drinking in the workplace, also influences what you'll wear to work. Thanks to the show, retailers are "offering a refreshing alternative to the flip-flops and baby-doll dresses that had become de rigueur," says AdAge. Which is all well and good — until 90210 premieres Sept. 2 on The CW, and spring fashions are re-stuffed with gladiator sandals, skooter skirts, and polo shirts.
As they are wont to do, Conde Nast yesterday sent us this unsolicited invitation (above) to stop by Bloomingdale's for an "exclusive" Details shopping event that's going on this evening – with plenty of wine and cheese, we imagined – for something called "The Italian Suit," otherwise known as "an excuse to throw the word 'sale' around during Fashion Week." So eager were we to get to Bloomingdale's (if only to shop for our father's 60th birthday gift), we ran over there yesterday evening.
And, wouldn't you know it, there was an event already in progress. An event called "The Italian Suit." With plenty of wine and cheese. Except this one was sponsored not by Details, but by Hearst's Esquire magazine. Which means two things: 1)
Magazine event coordinators are neither savvy nor original; and 2) To do like Details must mean Esquire is gayer than we suspected.
(And should you consider going, keep this in mind: When the invite says "Invitation only. Space is limited," they actually mean "No need to RSVP — we've got enough cheese to serve even the couple in town from Little Rock who are killing time before Mamma Mia.
