“Say goodbye to damaging glues, waxes, weaves and clips and say hello to a whole new world of hair extensions!” These tantalizing words appear at the top of a full-page, color magazine ad. This promise and exhortation is laid out in white, sans-serif letters. The reader’s excitement and curiosity are aroused.
Below these exciting words, we see the large, bronzed face of Paris Hilton, pink- and pouty-lipped, centering the page. Her blond tresses snake out like golden cobras all around her smooth-as-oleo face. We then can’t help but notice Ms Hilton’s bare shoulders and black-fabric-triangled breasts. Is she supine and submissive, on her back? Regardless of her body’s location, there is no mistaking the come-hither look on her face.
At the level of her breasts (this location may not be accidental…) there is more text. In white, cursive type our eyes are romanced with “Dream Catchers by”. Dream Catchers? This is followed, in the largest, lavender type, by what must be the message’s most important words: “Paris Hilton”. PARIS HILTON! Yes! Sign me up!
But what exactly am I signing up for? Sex, yes? Of course! Guilt-free Parisian sex, right? Who could resist? Let me pull my rigid credit card out!
But wait a minute - below this, in that already-seen, suspiciously business-like, white sans-serif font is the deflating explanation: “The World’s Best Hair Extensions,” followed by a phone number and website address. The world’s best hair extensions? For who? For the guys who this ad seems to be titillating? Are we to become Samsons to her Delilah? For Paris Hilton wannabe’s? But then Dream catching would seem to have a lesbian flow to it. Hm, this is all most ambiguous and confusing …
Who is this ad romancing? What’s the dream that’s being caught? Or is this ad strangling dreams in its ropy faux hair tresses? What am I being asked to buy into and then purchase? What is this dream, and whose is it anyway?