While searching through memorabilia, I found a magazine the hospital staff gave my mother when I was born (© 1959 by J.S. Hunt Publications Limited). The first item inside the front cover is a syrupy verse titled “God’s Masterpiece.” Yup, that’s me.
The magazine is full of ads for all the latest products a responsible young parent will need to raise a new family, including an ad for Canadiana Vinyl Asbestos Planks. The “Newest idea in decorating …” and “Now in 12 mellow shades!” Ideal for nurseries. Yes, you can have tiles, “but PLANKS are new, new, NEW — and oh so much fun to choose and use!”
I try to imagine what it must have been like for my mother when I was born — or any new mother in the early 60’s. She was younger than most mothers are today. Raised on a farm, new to the city, she was remarkably inexperienced. No doubt she was anxious to do things right, otherwise I might end up being mentally defective, or physically deficient, or I’d catch weird diseases that could have been prevented if only my mother had been more attentive to my needs. In other words, my mother was ripe to be exploited. That was the sole purpose of the magazine. The line about being “God’s Masterpiece” was a bit of flattery to soften up an untapped market — the anxious new mother.
“Your baby deserves the best … an individual Carnation formula”
“Generations of healthy Pablum babies can’t be wrong!”
“Why shouldn’t mother (to-be) choose a baby carriage the way father chooses a car?”
“Baby clothes are the most important clothes you’ll ever buy!”
“McCormick’s Sunwheat biscuits help build strong bones, sound teeth!”
“First shoes are the most important.”
“She is feeding me FRESH MILK ”Lots of Mothers are as smart as Mine””
“How bleach helps you prevent diaper rash.”
“Twice as many mothers use Bayswater DIAPERASH Ointment”
“New Anti-bacterial DIAPER PURE stops diaper rash before it starts!”
“Baby’s Own: The duck that cares for babies and children”
“Revolutionary New Nipple”
“Dryceet: The Miracle Diaper Liner”
We may look back and roll our eyes at some of this advertising — especially the asbestos planks — but it’s surprising how little things have changed in fifty years. We continue to market mercilessly to young mothers. Yet our cribs are subject to huge recalls. Toys from China are coated in lead-based paints. Doubt around the efficacy of breast feeding continues to be encouraged by the food industry. And, of course, more young parents own cars than in the 60’s. We know full well that cars are more hazardous to our children’s health than asbestos products (without even considering the long-term global environmental impact of car use), yet we continue to own cars.
Without advertising, much of our culture would disappear. Almost all television programming is financed by advertising. Almost all magazine-writing is financed by advertising. Most web sites either are advertising or are financed by advertising.
Our culture IS advertising. That is its hallmark. Without it we wouldn’t know who we are. We wouldn’t know how to imagine ourselves.
Advertising is an anxiolytic, like Valium or Rivotril. By heeding the advice in the advertising she reads, the anxious mother reassures herself that she is a responsible person. It calms her nerves. It sounds to her a soothing voice. She can mask the not-knowing, the pernicious emptiness that would follow if she had to rely on her own instincts.