I FOUND THIS MISSIVE in the Pushing the Envelope mailbag a few months back:
Here’s an idea for your column, inspired by the “Best of Spring” digest-size J. Jill catalog that arrived in my mailbox today. I would title the column “What Is J. Jill Looking For?”
In nearly half of the on-figure shots, the models are looking down, toward the ground, or the water, or the floor, etc.
Up until about a year ago their photography was fresh, creative and enviable. Now it seems to be very rote and repetitive. What are they looking for??? Are there new designers, art directors and photographers at the helm, or is no one looking at the book as a whole before it goes to press? – Katie W.
While I hadn’t received this particular J. Jill catalog, I did think Katie’s question was worth further investigation. For the next two months, I put aside all the catalogs I received to see how they, well… looked. Were the models staring deep into my soul, glancing in my direction or turning away scornfully? And how, if at all, did the models’ compositions affect my feelings as a consumer?
Simply because they don’t feature live models, some books – including Harry & David, Colorful Images, Hold Everything and Illuminations – were taken out of the discussion.
While Pottery Barn’s main catalog doesn’t feature models, Pottery Barn Kids sprinkles children throughout its pages, primarily in the front of the book. To their credit, the kids pictured all look natural and happy. Heck, we’d all be willing to go back to childhood if we could be lit that well.
For the most part, Lillian Vernon also stays away from using models. Again, the main exception is children. The problem here is that many of the models look too child-actory perky and fake as they stare into the camera. For that matter, so do many of the animals used to illustrate the catalog’s pet products. Most people have trouble getting cats and dogs to sit still for a photo. Lillian Vernon must have had difficulty getting this group to look lively.
Nice, Idiotic Grins The women pictured in the summer catalogs of beauty product marketer CCB Paris and shoe purveyor Aerosoles are often grinning like idiots – but I mean that in a good way. All look happy to be using the products pictured and are attractive, more so than the average Jane on the street – but not so pretty you want to slap them.
For women who make you feel inferior, one only has to look as far as – of course – the latest Victoria’s Secret porna-…I mean catalog. Where are these girls looking? Well, many are giving the camera that come-hither glance that can only be summoned by one being paid over $1,000 per hour to look pretty. Others seem to have as much difficulty staring into the camera’s lens as men probably have keeping focused on these women’s eyes: They’re glancing down into their own bounty, possibly marveling at the wonders of the Miracle Bra.
Boston Proper’s models, like the women in J. Jill who started this discourse, are looking up, down and all around. At least I think they are – so many have sunglasses on, it’s often hard to tell. At first glance I thought one model was about to launch a personal underarm hair inspection. Then I realized what she must be looking at was the text “built in bra” typed under her chest, which was highlighted by an arrow pointing up at her bust.
The catalog uses the arrow-with-“handwritten”-text technique to highlight a number of things – for example, that a pair of sandals are made by Coach or a suit was designed exclusively for Boston Proper. But a good number of the arrows are pointing at bustlines that, quite frankly, don’t need arrows to draw eyes to the area – no matter what those eyes’ preference. I understand what the catalog is trying to do: alert shoppers to sleeveless or backless dresses and tops that have the necessary undergarments built in, something most women would agree is a useful feature.
But the arrows…the arrows, however subtle they may be, seem a bit misplaced and tacky. The text alone in the same space would have done the trick, and kept the model’s dignity.
On that note, we’ll close with another woman’s dignity in question. Plow & Hearth uses models only to demonstrate its products for the home. Now, one expects a couple to be happy sitting by a portable campfire, or a child to be giddy playing in a sandbox. But will someone please tell that nice woman demonstrating the tumbler composter that, unless you’re Oscar the Grouch, it just ain’t normal to have that much fun with garbage.
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