When we were teenagers, my dad’s mom was watching my sister and I for a weekend when the ‘rents went away. Grandma spotted a pair of my sister’s jeans in the laundry and noticed a tag was still on the pants. She tugged and pulled, to no avail, eventually taking a scissors to the back pocket to remove it. Victorious, she promptly placed the pants into the washer and went on about her business. Long story short, when my parents returned home they were greeted by my hysterical sister who shrieked that grandma had ruined her jeans. She proffered the pants, showing that Grandma had cut-off the red Levi’s tag.
Leaving my Mother to console my sister, Dad went to speak to Grandma. “You know that tag you removed is what I pay extra money for,” he said with a sigh. It wasn’t just the sigh of a father forced to pay high prices for designer dungarees, as he called them, or the fact that he’d have to replace the pair of jeans. No, what bothered Dad was the fact that with at least one of his teenage daughters no fashion was complete without what he called advertising.
No matter how he lectured, he could not compete with the corporate branding that played a role in fashion. At least for my sister.
Dad thought that the person who wore the clothing was in effect a walking billboard for the company, and as such, should be the one compensated with cash for promoting the company. Dad was so adamant about this, that with every purchase he’d ask the uncomfortable clerk if the tag wasn’t a sales price but what we’d be paid for wearing the garment and endorsing the company. (This eventually led to his banishment from shopping with my sister — I rather enjoyed watching my dad at work.)
Anyway, the point of all this tale is that once upon a time jeans with a little tag or copyrighted pocket designs was enough to drive my father crazy. So can you imagine his reaction to folks who now spend twice (or more) the ‘normal’ price of a t-shirt to display a corporate logo on it? And don’t get him started on all the other ways consumers pay to advertise, promote or even collect corporate identities.
It’s not the collecting of vintage and antique advertising collectibles that blows dad’s mind — he understands the compulsion to preserve history and the love of old junk — but the modern branded collecting has him scratching his head.
Those cute Coca Cola polar bears and the M&M guys? Dad thinks drinking their pop and eating their candy is all the fandom these companies should want — why do they want his money for chotchkes too?
Well, dad knows they want more money, but why do folks give it to them? Why turn your home into their showroom? Why shell out money to shill their company?
I bet dad will flip when I show him my latest discovery in corporate collectibles: ESPN consumer products.
No longer content with ESPN Gear, the subtle ESPN along with your favorite sports team, or branded sporting equipment, this ESPN line of collectible billboards is on their “without sports” advertising theme. I guess it shouldn’t be a surprise. As a part of Disney, the licensed merch was just a matter of time.
The line of gifts includes tabletop signs (which look rather like photo frames, but only display the ESPN branding themes), bowls and other snack items, and some sort of plastic logo-wearing magnet with a button which when pressed plays the ESPN audio-logo (the theme ’song’).
Like some sort of Successories for arm-chair quarterbacks and couch potatoes, this collection of branded giftware is available, among other places, at selected Hallmark stores. Huh. I guess women desperate for gifts for their brother-in-laws now have a convenient selection for birthday purchases. (I hope my sister’s husband, Garth, isn’t reading this!)
Sorry, Dad, corporate collectibles are here to stay. Even if you don’t understand them.
