The doors of American supermarkets swing open to usher us into retail fever dreams, the fabulous fairy-tale world of who corporate brands would like us to be and who we wish we were. Meanwhile, who we really are gets lost in the vast landscape. Product package design meant to appear masculine says far more about hopelessly outdated cultural assumptions than it does about real shoppers, male or female. And reduced-calorie or lowfat products pitched towards women feel very out of touch now that it’s common for members of both sexes to be concerned with weight loss.
Products directed at men often rely on a predictable design vocabulary and familiar icons of masculinity: the lumberjack, the hunter, the athlete. In the freezer case, Hungry Man Fried Chicken (”It’s Good to be Full”) uses a heavy machine-style font and bold relatively uncluttered design, shorthand for This is For Guys. Next not-so-subtle clue: a product targeted at a female consumer would never think of using the word hungry in its name. The Swanson website tries to hedge its bets by stating that the dinner appeals to “people and especially men with healthy appetites.” Italics added.
Hard to imagine a man looking at the Skinny Cow package and saying, That’s meant for me. Forget the unbearably awful name; check out that seductively lounging cow with her tape measure belt. It’s astonishing that anyone would buy this product, it’s so visually and conceptually offensive. What’s the message? I’m a cow but at least I’m a skinny one? Gak.
Unless you live in the Pacific Northwest, you probably don’t know any lumberjacks. Nevertheless, the Brawny paper towel guy reads instantly as an idealized beacon of masculine health, radiating outdoor ruggedness in his piney environment. He’s a shopworn shorthand for strength and might, making the unadorned white paper towels seem well suited for a man’s kitchen. No dainty floral prints or twee spice racks here.
When our lumberjack beams at us from a package of special-edition Breast Cancer Awareness Brawny, though, things start to get awkward. He’s overwhelmed by all the pink. In fact, his appearance in support of a women’s health cause make us start to wonder if he’s suddenly a little too sensitive and caring. Does he do hot yoga? He loses his iconographic power by appearing in an unfriendly visual setting, becoming more an object of ridicule than admiration.
No wonder, then, that the newest Brawny packaging completely marginalizes the lumberjack: his 1970’s manliness is not so useful in the selling environment anymore. But Georgia-Pacific is stuck with him as the recognizable face of their brand so he remains, downsized, still bravely smiling though bereft of pines.
Campbell’s Chunky Soups use the same set of cultural assumptions in their product descriptions and appearance to communicate suitability for male appetites. How many real firemen eat Firehouse Chili? What about Fully Loaded Beef Stew? Loaded, like a gun? Just a simile, but one unlikely to appeal to women.
Campbell’s no longer subjects us to advertising ideas like this from 1967, at least.
Sports drinks, consumed by male and female athletes alike, convey a masculine feeling via neon colors, chunky typefaces, and squat wide bottles. Label copy—downright military in tone, tersely composed—commands us to drink this, now. No excuses! Bring it!
Though men may want to watch the calories in their drinks too, these packages speak directly to women. Product names are cheery and valley-girlish. Totally! Type composed on a slant floats weightlessly. Images of splashing liquids convey the idea of pleasure and refreshment, not issuing an imperative to drink but instilling a desire to do so.
Compare the slender little Pria Bar’s organically-rounded shapes, pastel colors, swooshes, and brushstroke-y type with the Power Bar’s sharp edges, assertive colors, and bold typefaces. Pria, ending in a soft vowel, seems feminine right down to the name of its flavor, French Vanilla Crisp. Meanwhile the Power Bar is blocky and thick, and its wrapper shouts Performance and Energy. The flavor? Chocolate. No adjectives necessary. Mantime.
When saccharine was introduced in the late 1950’s, women were its main consumers and Sweet’ n Low’s pink packaging was unapologetically girly. Equal and then Splenda came on the market during an era when it was more socially acceptable for men to watch their weight. Their packaging still tilts toward the feminine with organic shapes, italics, and swooshes, though both brands are less blatantly femme than Sweet’ n Low’s full-on pink.
The newest kid on the fake sweetener block is Truvia, derived from stevia plants rather than cooked up in a lab. The packaging, designed by Paula Scher, emphasizes the green quality and natural source of the product rather than attempting to pitch it to one sex or the other. If more brands left gender out of their design equations, the supermarket landscape would provide a more honest reflection of who’s tossing what into the cart. Male or female, we’re all hungry. Even the Brawny lumberjack may be looking to drop a few pounds; he’s a lot smaller these days.
Tags: America, Branding, Design, Packaging, Shopping, Supermarket
Good article, I`ve bookmarked your blog and will follow your arcivity from now. Can I share it on my blog ?
Great post. I imagine you could dedicate the entire blog to just gender stereotyping in the supermarket. “Skinny Cow” is so misguided… reminds me of the bleaker-than-bleak 1967 film “Poor Cow” (with Terence “Kneel before Zod” Stamp). Cows to Cougars, now there’s a book, albeit a Camille Paglia book. You heard it here first on SuperCrit, folks.
Women have it tough, in the supermarket and in life. Sexism is alive and well.