Being social animals, human beings tend to allow their better judgement to be stampeded by the crowd's impulses. This applies not only to the followers of trends, but their critics: the bigger the icon, the bigger the kudos accorded those who accomplish its takedown.This is only aided by the ephemeral nature of popularity: both sides to laud–or criticise–things based on their aura rather than the true nature of the thing itself.
A recent example of this is the Moleskine notebook. Produced by the Italian company Modo e Modo, Moleskines are essentially copies of a French design. Their advertising copy links them to a number of literary and artistic luminaries: Hemingway, Chatwin, Picasso. Since all of these people are dead, they can't complain that they never, in fact, used the notebooks in question, although they may well have used very similar ones (Chatwin certainly did; his were purchased from a Parisian stationer, until the supplier closed down in 1986).
This is really where the trouble starts. Coupled with their good looks (the Moleskine is a very attractive notebook), the cachet of the artists and writers essentially providing endorsements for them gave Moleskine notebooks the jumpstart they needed. It's important to note that the kind of person who will spend time looking for the perfect notebook is generally the classic "early adopter" so beloved of computer technology companies, and I suspect they (we) are perhaps more vulnerable to the lure of the Moleskine's whispered promises."Buy me," it seems to say, "and you too can be inspired to write like Hemingway."
Marketing does not fool us, exactly; it hands us the lines
we feed ourselves. Seduction is something we allow to happen, and investing objects
with mysterious power is an old trap. We want to believe that possessing these
items is what will give us power, or wealth, or inspiration; we want to deny
that 'genius' is a label we apply to those who are both supremely gifted and
work harder than anyone else. Olympic athletes have a genetic makeup that makes
them suited for their chosen sport, but this is at best a starting point;
potential will always go unfulfilled unless it is accompanied by a daily grind of
back-breaking labour. Nobody wants to hear this; it's not a cheering message.
The idea that we simply lack some talisman, owned by those whose powers we aspire
to possess, is a far more attractive one.
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