One of the nice things about my job — I work in corporate communications for a Fortune 50 healthcare company — is that I get to meet lots of advertising and PR agencies that have lots of ideas about the state of play in our society these days.
I met a few weeks ago with one such agency, which put forward the interesting notion that Americans are suffering from “fatigue over perfection.” Using television as an example, we used to watch shows like Dynasty and The Cosby Show that depicted perfect people (or at least people more perfect than you and me) living perfect lives. We now watch shows like American Idol, the Amazing Race, and Survivior that depict real, authentic people dropped into unreal situations — which somehow serves to highlight their real-ness. I like this idea a lot and predict that it may play a role in who earns the Republican and Democratic presidential nominations. Quick, who is more authentic, Clinton or Obama? Huckabee or Romney? Pretty easy, actually.
The agency I met with also talked about companies like Starbucks and Whole Foods that “curate the world” for their customers according to a certain philosophy that is understood and bought into by all concerned. Starbucks, for example, offers coffee to its customers, of course, but also now music and books, which makes sense in a way that it would not at, say, Dunkin’ Donuts.
I put this idea into practice with the recent purchase of several bottles of Champagne for New Year’s Eve. I know a lot about beer, a little about wine, and absolutely nothing about Champagne. We were hosting about 12 couples at our house. I wanted our choice of Champagne to say, “Hey, we give a shit about you. No one is getting engaged tonight, but it’s a special evening nonetheless and we’re treating it (and you) accordingly.”
My typical approach would have been to go to my local liquor store with a price point in mind and pick based solely on name recognition — Veuve Clicquout, Moet & Chandon, Korbel – all the while pretending as if I knew what the hell I was doing. This time, I pleaded total ignorance, gave the owner of the store my price point (about $40), and asked him to pick for me, which he did — Gaston Chiquet and A. Margaine. I drank both and both were fabulous.
Happy New Year, dear readers. Now can someone please curate the rest of my world?
