Phalicizing Power, Pussyfying Economy
Dec. 29th, 2009 12:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
peristaltorThis Pharyngula post dredged up a lingering anger that I realize now I forgot to articulate. In it, PZ notes a Toys 'R' Us catalog with microscopes and telescopes. You know, science equipment for kids.
He's got an image of this ad you really must see to appreciate.
And this has to do with me . . . how? Last year, I was contemplating buying a new electric scooter, the Vectrix. (I reviewed my first test drive and compared it to other electric scoots I've known a few summers back.) The price had dropped significantly. I needed to make sure it would get me to work on the freeway, so I took it for another ride. Damn, that was nice.
Still, though lowered, the price was high. I decided I needed to do a gas-to-electric cost comparison. The Vectrix is a scooter-styled motorcycle, with plenty of oomph to keep my 200+ pounds cruising at freeway speeds. Therefore, I needed to find a comparable gas bike with the same styling and freeway ability and compare what I would have been paying for the Vectrix with what else was available. I could then note the difference in purchase prices and cost savings in fueling, and see if I would be spending (yet again!) more than I would have otherwise.
I ran into an interesting wall. I couldn't find a comparable freeway scooter at the local cycle shops.
For those who have never bought a motorcycle, I can assure you it is probably one of -- if not the most -- image driven markets. Riders are pigeonholed into stylistic stereotypes simply by the bike they choose.
There are the choppers. Lots of chrome, oversized engines and rear tires. Riders tend to be forced to lean back, as if to dare trouble to mess with them. Matching helmets are minimal, as little as the law allows, and often decorated with stickers like "Fuck you. I have enough friends." They appeal to the leather daddies and future (and present) felons.
There are the cafe racers. Sleek, angular racing machines loved by animae cartoons, but also super powered and fat tired. Riders tend to lean far forward, to attack the road. Matching helmets tend to be super high-tech, because they ride to win and often crash. These bikes appeal to the early twenty thrill seekers whose testicles have just descended from the body cavity. You can tell which of these riders is super-gay by the single seat. They don't give rides; they meet up with other riders.
There are the road bikes, built for touring. Decked out with stereos with driver-to-passenger intercoms, heated seats, reverse gears, windscreens and lots of luggage space. Riders ride comfortably, pitched neither forward nor back. Wouldn't you know it, they also have lots of engine to spare. These appeal to the mid-life crisis riders who use the same excuses to buy them as RV buyers: "Look, honey, we can ride together with vast caravans of like-minded couples!"
There are the super-niches. The Beemers (my fave), the Italian racers that make the Japanese cafe racers looks like wannabes . . . the list is long.
Finally, we get to the scooters. There are two or three places to get scooters. In the Italian shops, for one. That's probably the best place. These scoots appeal to the ironically hip, to the Euro-trash. They don't do freeway, though.
And then there are the Japanese scooters. Which appeal to women and . . . .
I was amazed. I walked into three local motorcycle outlets. All had Italian-styled scooters, but no freeway capable models. All of them were tucked into little traveled floor space, off in a corner. And all of the little scoots were either powder blue or hot pink.
What better way of separating "the men" from those who had bothered to be honest and just come out of the closet.
I did have a conversation with a sales rep (who, coincidentally, I had known socially years ago). He said his brand did sell a freeway-able scooter, but his dealership didn't carry it. He even showed me the model in a dealer's catalog. It looked a lot like the Vectrix. Perfect.
But I couldn't get it. I couldn't even order it. Hell, I couldn't even get a price quote! It wasn't available in the US.
The market-eers -- folks in the marketing department of large corporations that control the look and feel of every ad, every product, the freaks who sell only the sizzle, never the steak -- had defined the market so rigidly by stylistic considerations that the words "freeway" and "scooter" were not allowed to be uttered in the same sentence lest they threaten the fragile manhood of "real" bike riders.
So I never got my comparison shopping done. I also never got my bike, since I started looking for financing right about the time the banks stopped lending.
I also never got over this hyper-masculinization, this marketing testosterone fest, of simple transport vehicles, one that relegates the practical to the realm of the unappealing and therefore unavailable. Motorcycles, telescopes, microscopes -- nothing is safe from these despicable style nazis.
Both the telescope and the microscope come in special pink versions, just for the girl who is apparently more interested in getting an instrument that matches her nail polish than being functional, and note also . . . that in every case the pink model is less powerful than the black and gray model.
There is a message being sent here. Being feminine, being girly, means you belong in a separate category in the science world, and it's a category that needs less utility and more concern about appearances. (Emphasis mine.)
He's got an image of this ad you really must see to appreciate.
And this has to do with me . . . how? Last year, I was contemplating buying a new electric scooter, the Vectrix. (I reviewed my first test drive and compared it to other electric scoots I've known a few summers back.) The price had dropped significantly. I needed to make sure it would get me to work on the freeway, so I took it for another ride. Damn, that was nice.
Still, though lowered, the price was high. I decided I needed to do a gas-to-electric cost comparison. The Vectrix is a scooter-styled motorcycle, with plenty of oomph to keep my 200+ pounds cruising at freeway speeds. Therefore, I needed to find a comparable gas bike with the same styling and freeway ability and compare what I would have been paying for the Vectrix with what else was available. I could then note the difference in purchase prices and cost savings in fueling, and see if I would be spending (yet again!) more than I would have otherwise.
I ran into an interesting wall. I couldn't find a comparable freeway scooter at the local cycle shops.
For those who have never bought a motorcycle, I can assure you it is probably one of -- if not the most -- image driven markets. Riders are pigeonholed into stylistic stereotypes simply by the bike they choose.
There are the choppers. Lots of chrome, oversized engines and rear tires. Riders tend to be forced to lean back, as if to dare trouble to mess with them. Matching helmets are minimal, as little as the law allows, and often decorated with stickers like "Fuck you. I have enough friends." They appeal to the leather daddies and future (and present) felons.
There are the cafe racers. Sleek, angular racing machines loved by animae cartoons, but also super powered and fat tired. Riders tend to lean far forward, to attack the road. Matching helmets tend to be super high-tech, because they ride to win and often crash. These bikes appeal to the early twenty thrill seekers whose testicles have just descended from the body cavity. You can tell which of these riders is super-gay by the single seat. They don't give rides; they meet up with other riders.
There are the road bikes, built for touring. Decked out with stereos with driver-to-passenger intercoms, heated seats, reverse gears, windscreens and lots of luggage space. Riders ride comfortably, pitched neither forward nor back. Wouldn't you know it, they also have lots of engine to spare. These appeal to the mid-life crisis riders who use the same excuses to buy them as RV buyers: "Look, honey, we can ride together with vast caravans of like-minded couples!"
There are the super-niches. The Beemers (my fave), the Italian racers that make the Japanese cafe racers looks like wannabes . . . the list is long.
Finally, we get to the scooters. There are two or three places to get scooters. In the Italian shops, for one. That's probably the best place. These scoots appeal to the ironically hip, to the Euro-trash. They don't do freeway, though.
And then there are the Japanese scooters. Which appeal to women and . . . .
I was amazed. I walked into three local motorcycle outlets. All had Italian-styled scooters, but no freeway capable models. All of them were tucked into little traveled floor space, off in a corner. And all of the little scoots were either powder blue or hot pink.
What better way of separating "the men" from those who had bothered to be honest and just come out of the closet.
I did have a conversation with a sales rep (who, coincidentally, I had known socially years ago). He said his brand did sell a freeway-able scooter, but his dealership didn't carry it. He even showed me the model in a dealer's catalog. It looked a lot like the Vectrix. Perfect.
But I couldn't get it. I couldn't even order it. Hell, I couldn't even get a price quote! It wasn't available in the US.
The market-eers -- folks in the marketing department of large corporations that control the look and feel of every ad, every product, the freaks who sell only the sizzle, never the steak -- had defined the market so rigidly by stylistic considerations that the words "freeway" and "scooter" were not allowed to be uttered in the same sentence lest they threaten the fragile manhood of "real" bike riders.
So I never got my comparison shopping done. I also never got my bike, since I started looking for financing right about the time the banks stopped lending.
I also never got over this hyper-masculinization, this marketing testosterone fest, of simple transport vehicles, one that relegates the practical to the realm of the unappealing and therefore unavailable. Motorcycles, telescopes, microscopes -- nothing is safe from these despicable style nazis.