Advertising Ideas--A Memoir

I remember stepping foot into his office. I’ll call him Jay. He was the first client who yelled at me. Later, much, much later, he warmed up, becoming cordial, but, that first meeting, when I was twenty-three, went something like this:

“Hello, I’m from the newspaper.”

“Yeah, so?”

I wore a dress I had sewn on my mom’s Singer; Kelly green with small white dots over a white, puffy sleeved blouse. In hindsight, I looked like Snow White’s sister.

“Thought I’d come by to talk to you about advertising.”

At first, he said nothing. Then Jay’s eyes sort of bulged out of his head and he turned red. “What in heaven’s name do you know about advertising? I have owned this dealership for fifty years and you think you can waltz in here to tell me what to do?”

“No sir,” I answered, worried the man might have a heart attack in front of me. My knees shook. Good thing I had opted for the pattern with the full skirt, I thought.

“Well, you’re going to tell me how to advertise? Do you know anything about advertising?” His voice shook the entire office. I think they heard him at the parts counter.

“I admit I’m new to advertising, but I have some ideas that could help sell more cars.”

“You have ideas, huh? You think you can help me sell more cars?” The yelling turned into diabolical laughter that shook his portly belly and scrunched his gray eyebrows together. At this point, I wanted to run back to the shelter of the office to tell my manager I had failed. Maybe, I’d take that low-paying job writing obits, after all.  Jay sneered a twisted smile, but it calmed me down. “Get out of here. Go get your ideas and come back next week. I’m busy.”

“Can I leave you a copy of the newspaper?”

“Yes, now get out,” he shrieked, pointing to the exit.

The following week, I came back with a mock-up of a full-page ad and he signed a contract. Jay became a loyal newspaper advertiser for many years. I had triggered something. Either guilt for his nasty behavior or pity for the newbie. A mystery I have yet to solve.

Once I had my first check, I bought a navy-blue suit, assuming falsely, it would help me command a bit more respect. Later, a closet full of suits, a briefcase and business-like pumps didn't help either. Sadly, many future clients also screamed about prices, tear-sheets, proofs, typos etc.  and those pencil skirted suits didn’t hide my quivering knees.  

Either way, Jay, and all the others, inspired me to figure out why things like this happen. Six years later, I went to grad school for a Master’s degree in Human Behavior. As if learning psychology would stop clients from shouting. 😊 I hate shouting. Don’t you?

Anyway, what do you think? Did Jay like my ideas? My dress? My determination? Did I upset his ego?

More than likely, he simply wanted ads in the local newspaper. Right?

Holiday Greetings from Pinky Claus

Mommy told me to say ho, ho, ho instead of ruff, ruff and ruff. And since the mailman isn’t here yet, I’ll be quiet. Ruff or not, this has been a rough year. Get it?

Anyway, she made this silly hat, and thought I should model it for all the world to see. Isn’t that hilarious? I can count her blog followers on one paw. It’s not like she’s some sort of 'influencer'. Do you think I listen to her? Hardly, ever. But it’s the holidays and the area around my heart is filled with gas and something called unconditional love. So, here I am in the hat. (Small shout out to my online friends Agatha and Winston who are probably dying of laughter. Wish we could sniff each other. If you want to meet them click here:)

The stuff mom’s been passing off as health food sucks. Plus, dad tries to sneak in some gross liver pill. Everything they eat smells better than the stuff in my bowl. It’s so unfair. When I beg for a scrap, they give me a pat on the head telling me I’m cute. Liars! How can I believe them? I’m losing weight and they still won’t make me a rib-eye steak!

Well, as I mentioned above, this past year has been an obstacle course. Not just for me, but for all of us. I’m tired of it. Especially that vet place where the other patients look big and mean like they want to eat me. Sorry, I’m still having flashbacks regarding my little sister who met a big mean dog near the park. (Very sad story but she’s at some rainbow place.) Mom says I have a dog version of PTSD. Personally, I think she does. I cheer her up with licks.

I’m even boycotting my tennis ball. She throws it, and I watch as it lands on the grass, and for some strange reason I think it looks nice sitting right there on the lawn. Guess my bones don’t feel like running and lunging anymore. Man, I used to be hyper. I’d dash around the house like a racehorse and jump onto the dining room table looking for leftover morsels. At least I still have energy to yell at that mailman. And, with any luck I’ll still be slinking around here next year at this time.  Meanwhile, I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday filled with fabulous belly rubs and the awesome snacks from my dreams. 

Wishing all of you the Happiest, most joyous New Year ever! 

I Want 007 Pants-(A Fashion Post)

I have a gripe about pants. I figured a blog post is a great way to vent about any politically correct subject as long as there’s at least a semblance of humor involved. So here’s my droll scoop about personal issues with length, fit and fashion.

Length

First of all, I’m tall and most women’s pants have a 29” inseam which is average but 32” would ideally hit me at the ankle. Sometimes I see tall-fitting pants for sale in catalogs but they begin at 34” which would be nice if I wanted to wear high heels all the time with my jeans. Unfortunately, that’s not my style and the tall ones are usually in smaller sizes anyway. Most of the pants I own look like cropped pants or what my old high school ‘friends’ called ‘flood waders.” Basically, I have a love-hate relationship with pants because it’s one of those articles of clothing that an active lifestyle necessitates. Plus, I love adventures. Women wear pants for fishing, hiking, bike riding and campaigning for President. After seventeen years into a new century, modern women don’t even own dresses or skirts anymore. Type ‘wedding pantsuit’ into a Google search and you wouldn’t believe the heavenly white ensembles that exist.

 I think pants can look fabulous on women Ala Katherine Hepburn but they should also be flexible without being tight and uncomfortable. In a warm climate, most polyester blended fabrics are much too hot and in winter, twill or denim isn’t warm or flexible enough. Is it asking too much that I want to look nice while chasing after two disobedient Chihuahuas?

Fashion

Fashion wise, the current trend for women is the skinny look which works great if you’re ah—skinny. Some of these pants are cut so narrow, that they wouldn’t even fit my meatless skeleton. If I can pull them on, there’s a rustling sound with each step. Sadly, unless I want to take up Zydeco and pretend I’m playing the washboard, I also have to forget about corduroy. Of course, there are loose-fitting linen pants that look wrinkled all the time or chinos which are like like a cross between jeans and khakis. If they don’t fit right, then they look like Park Ranger-Government Issue pants. Too tight and you’ll feel like you’re back in high school marching band needing a new uniform after having a growth spurt. For extreme casual wear, there’s the yoga pant that looks good in one color only and that’s black. Same with leggings—have you ever seen beige colored leggings on a heavy-set woman? There are some things I wish I could “unsee.”

Fit

This brings me to how pants fit. Men can get away with wearing khaki pants that are loose and baggy. Modestly covering everything, they look perfect on busy dads who need to be able to move with even busier toddlers. Generally, men want to make sure their jeans are not riding too high and by pulling them lower they are baggier in the thighs and the hem reaches the floor. Problems arise because most men don’t have hips to hold up their pants. This is why they wear belts or should wear belts anyway. When men wear business or military slacks in gray, green or navy, the fit is classic, slightly loose and elegant. And finally, there’s the sophisticated tuxedo pant which reminds us of Cary Grant or Fred Astaire.

Those have to be stretchy pants!

I just had one of those aha moments. Remember how Fred Astaire, Gene Kelly and even Jimmy Stewart were dancing in tailored tuxedo pants? James Bond is jumping out of an airplane or swinging from a chandelier in a Monte Carlo casino while kicking the bejeebers out of the bad guys. Jason Statham springs from his BMW sunroof and is punching five guys at once while looking awesome in Armani. The mystery must be a form of Hollywood costume finery just like those used by Jack Black in the movie Nacho Libre. Lycra—also known as spandex, was invented in the late fifties, which could explain some of the magic but still leaves me wondering how Rhett tried saving Atlanta before such obviously awesome stretchy pants were ever created.

 Lucky for me, I’m not a slave to fashion and enjoy wearing dresses too. Perfect slacks? Maybe not for my body-type but I can dream, while wearing an old-fashioned skirt. 

Any ideas about what kind of fabric goes into one James Bond suit before it's shaken and stirred?

Empowering Fashions?

With the holidays fast approaching, it’s no wonder the catalog companies are testing my postman’s biceps. Poor guy must really get a workout schlepping all the fashion, gift and toy catalogs. Last night I flipped through a couple of my favorites and realized I’m hopelessly out of style. I used to know what to wear but moving to a deserted golf course for ten years has altered my sense of style. Silk blouses were too hot when the mercury rose past 89 degrees and suit jackets slumped on a chair most of the day. At least I’ve learned that shorts aren’t for middle-aged women. Skinny, tall or short and plump,

please don’t wear shorts to anything. Not even a golf tournament. They are ugly and unless you’re one of the Bud girls or something, don't even consider wearing shorts with boots.

But what do I know? I like dresses and I cannot lie. My favorite dress style is from before my mother went to school and I also love the vintage dresses from when my grandmother went to school!There's no denying the pink, the lace and the style of the dresses from the early part of the 20th Century glorified the weaker sex. Something my extra large athletic build and 5 foot 9 inch stature can only dream about. Weak? Me? Not unless I'm sick.
Ubiquitous jeans, however are my go to, for cool days and long winter nights.

Let me get back to these fashion catalogs and what women are subjected to wearing in 2015. Certainly nothing "weak" about either of these acceptable styles:

 1. Severe political statement, candidate-style suits
or

 2. Robin Hood meets Peter Pan (Angled bottom- flowing tunic, leggings and ankle boots)

One

Thanks to John T. Molloy and his book “Dress for Success", I wore imposing navy blue suits for many years. Honestly, I’m not exaggerating or dramatizing when I say a manager handed me that exact book after noticing my handmade little frocks. (Yes, I used to sew romantic, ladylike dresses.) Some of my "power" suits have followed me from the L.A. hustle and bustle where they served me well. They also did a pretty good job in Temecula and later I transported them out to La Quinta in the desert where they collected desert dust for ten years before recently moving to Wildomar. Now they just gently stare and wonder why I haven’t donated them to Angel View, our local charity.With manly lapels and straight skirts, the suits fill me with guilt for working from home. They also remind me of the 80’s and 90’s. Can’t think of too many great reasons for keeping them but political office? Not a chance!  

Two

Anyway,back to the second group of catalogs from my soon-to-be buff postman. What’s with that "Saving the World look" ladies? Don’t forget, Robin Hood and Peter Pan, though fictional characters, are both young men. Have I missed something important while being busy along the path of life? After all, I picked up People Magazine at the dentist and perused Us and Glamour Magazine before getting a mammogram. I mean how did I become so oblivious?

Of course, all the models look gorgeous in their leggings, flowing tunics and ankle boots but for lack of a quiver filled with arrows, you’d think we live in a place like Panem from the Hunger Games. Have women decided to give up femininity all together for the sake of political correctness--or is it to fight? Engage in battle? Win? Will I be outed as an enemy due to my weak looking, dress-wearing tendencies?   Should I swap my suits for tunics and leggings and join the androgynous march into tomorrow wearing tough looking ankle boots? Maybe I can arm-wrestle the postman and put a feather in my cap? Nah, I prefer tea-length dresses accompanied by intelligent conversation and a side of chocolate biscuits. Or perhaps a rendezvous at Starbucks, wearing my loose fitting jeans. 



(P.S. I'd mention the catalogs specifically, but don't want them to get mad at me. 
If you're curious then please send me an email-evegaal at gmail and I'll give you the name of the catalogs.)