I got to meet Ilina in Chicago last summer. She’s always cooking up something tasty and tempting, and she celebrates 5:00 every Friday with a cocktail. And guess what? She let me kick off the new year with a guest post. Thanks, Ilina! Raising my glass and wishing you a happy New Year!
“Your Dove purchase helps build self-esteem,” says the Dove ad on BlogHer‘s site.
No, it doesn’t.
“My Dove purchase” helps build Dove’s profits. Period. Dove (or its parent company, multinational corporation Unilever) doesn’t care about little girls. It’s a corporation. It’s incapable of having feelings. Its sole purpose is to earn a profit.
No matter what else I see from Unilever, I can’t get the Axe women out of my head. Unilever portrays women like that on one hand and professes to care about girls’ self-esteem on the other. It’s hypocritical and impossible to take seriously.
“Cause” marketing works profitable wonders for corporations. For example, Campbell’s Soup turns its cans pink “for breast cancer awareness” in October, doubling its sales. While it earns millions from its pink cans, it sends a mere $250,000 to the Susan G. Komen for the Cure.
Unilever earns millions through its Dove self-esteem “cause” marketing campaign. It sends $500,000 to an IRS-qualified non-profit organization, and it gets to claim that amount and all associated costs as deductible advertising expenses.
Instead of entering a UPC code to get Dove to send $1 to Girl Scouts, Boys & Girls Clubs or Girls Inc., if 500,000 people (Dove’s donation limit is $500,000, total) each sent a $5 check directly to each of the organizations, that would add up to $2.5 million for each, a total of $7.5 million — way more than Unilever/Dove would ever claim as a tax writeoff “donate.”
As much as I try to see good in a “positive message” that tells girls they’re beautiful, I can’t help but consider the source. I can’t erase the Axe women from my brain.
Why the exclusion at BlogHer? Is it because BlogHer isn’t supposed to be political? (Even though founder Lisa Stone asked Jarrett, “What should we do?” in terms of advocacy.) Or does the administration not take BlogHer attendees seriously? Or something else?
Jenna and Anne-Marie at the Great Sauk Trail rest area.
Thanks to Erin Groh (@ErinRoseGroh) of BlogHerfor organizing everything with carpoolers and companies. Thanks to Lesley Hettinger(@lesleyhettinger) and Connie Burke (@connieburke) of GM Communications, Kameya Shows (@kamkam) of OnStar Communications, Robyn Henderson (@robnh) of Design Communications for setting everything up and for treating us to food and drink (I had margaritas, thank you very much) once we got to Chicago. Here are some pictures from that party. You know, before I lost my camera.
Thank you so much to my roommates, Devra Renner (@ParentopiaDevra) and Aviva Pflock (@ParentopiaAviva) of Parentopia. I met Aviva for the first time in Chicago, but it feels as if I’ve known her forever.
I went to BlogHer09 in Chicago and lost my camera.
OK. So much more than that happened, but I’ll write about all that later. For now, here’s why I’m lost without my camera. Without it, the only camera I have is on my cell phone. Pictures from my cell phone? Suck.
Here’s Carson Kressley showing everyone in the Expo Hall “how to look good naked.”
Here’s Michele Lepe, Nina of Nina and Star on Sprout’s The Good Night Show. She autographed a photo for the kids, and they hung it on their bedroom door. They think I met a superstar. I think so too. She was very nice.
I’m sad. Those are the only images I have from BlogHer09. I also don’t have the images that were on my camera: the first lily that bloomed in our back yard, my carpool buddies, the Chicago skyline and pictures I took of some of the first people I met at BlogHer … until I put it down at either the People’s Party or the Room 704 Party on Thursday night. I had so many straps on my arms (purse, tote, camera bag, swag bags) that I didn’t notice the camera strap wasn’t one of them. So … maybe my camera ended up in someone else’s bag. Do me a favor? Could you check when you’re unpacking at home? It’s a Konica Minolta DiMage and looks something like this.
Someone found it and recognized Kelly from the night I was asking around about my camera. (They had been sitting on the same sofa.) She didn’t know how to find me, but she ran into Kelly, who said she would return the camera to me. Thank you, Kelly! I’d love to figure out who “this woman” is so I can thank her as well.