Fritinancy

Names in the News

Four new names that caught my attention:

Mansion is the unapologetically 1 percent-ish name of the Wall Street Journal’s new weekly section devoted to “high-end property.” In a letter to WSJ subscribers, managing editor Robert Thomson said Mansion would be “the home of both aspiration and real-estate realization.” I look forward to the quarterly spin-off, Car Elevator.

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What the fut was Alaska Telecom thinking when it renamed itself Futaris? This, apparently: “Based on the word future, Futaris represents limitless possibilities and progress.” Funny, because when I look at this sad excuse for a logo, I see “futility.”

(Hat tip: @IgorNaming.)

UPDATE: Reader Dan Freiberg suggests that “this variation helps with pronunciation, and works better with the symbol.”

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Juniper is a new subscription service for women who don’t own calendars. Oh, sorry: it’s “a monthly care package” consisting of tampons (five brands are offered) and a collection of “gourmet sweets and artisan savory treats.” (Yes, it’s that word!) “Never panic shop again,” says the home-page copy. The price, however, may cause cramping: $28 a month. I couldn’t find a story behind the name—which is lovely in its nondescriptive way—but I’m wondering whether founder Lynn Tao, young as she appears to be, is a Donovan fan. Remember “Jennifer Juniper,” who “longs for what she lacks”?

UPDATE: Mystery solved (although I’m still fond of my own theory):

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I’m even more mystified by Tassafaronga Village, a mixed-income residential development in East Oakland that I learned about this week via a New York Times story. There’s no explanation of the name in the story or on the website of the architect, David Baker, so I tried to dig deeper. I learned that Tassafaronga Point, on Guadalcanal (Solomon Islands), was the site of several naval engagements between US and Japanese forces during World War II. But that wasn’t very helpful: the housing project is meant to heal a troubled neighborhood, so why name it after a bloody, 70-year-old series of battles? And why the Melanesian reference in Oakland, where Pacific Islanders make up less than 1 percent of the population?

It’s certainly a distinctive name, fun to say if a little challenging to spell. Here’s hoping someone who knows the whole story reads this post and leaves a comment that clears up the mystery.

UPDATE: It took less than half an hour to get an answer to my question about Tassafaronga. See comments below from Gene, proprietor of the excellent Our Oakland blog.

Electable Collectibles

The first presidential debate will be held tonight, in Denver; the general election is less than five weeks away. So it’s time to ask a serious question: How are the campaigns shaping up tchotchke-wise?

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At 7-Eleven stores in 34 states, you can let the caffeine do the talking – and the predicting. And you get to keep your cup as a souvenir. Last Friday, you didn’t even have to pay for the coffee.

 

 

According to 7-Eleven’s 7-Election website, President Obama cups have a substantial lead over Mitt Romney cups everywhere except Idaho and West Virginia.

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Berkeley’s family-owned Virginia Bakery is holding its own consumption contest. To cast your vote, buy a photo-decorated sugar cookie.

Guess who’s winning?

According to a report on the Berkeleyside news site, the bakery has sold presidential cookies in previous elections, but this is the first time it’s tracking the results. As one commenter observed, “Finally … a chance to eat the rich.”

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From tasty to tasteless:

 

 

This “Obama reusable cloth pantyliner pad,” sold by Mimi’s Dreams on Etsy, is “the perfect size for teenagers and petite women.” Ladies, don’t you want a muumuu made of that fabric? (Via Buzzfeed.)

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Speaking of the curse, here’s SNL’s ad for g.o.b. tampons—made for women by the men of the GOP. (“Now with wings!”)

The brand name is a parody of o.b. tampons, which were developed in the early 1960s by a German gynecologist, Judith Esser. “o.b.” name is an abbreviation of “ohne binde,” German for “without napkins.”

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And staying in the nether regions, Say It With a Condom is back with the 2012 edition of candidate condoms.

 

Obama condoms: “Intended to get the general public laid, not laid off.”

Romney condoms: “For the elitist penis.” Four years ago, according to my notes, it was the Obama condoms that made that “elitist” claim.

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A concept only, but what a great concept: Barack Obama, the Blue Note years, from the British pop-culture blog Voices of East Anglia.

Lots more album covers at the link. (Via Girls of a Certain Age.)

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The Sassy Gator, another Etsy seller, is offering this embroidered T-shirt in babies’ and children’s sizes for $20.

 

“Mitt Romney Is My Homeboy”

“Homeboy”? Really? A tip for Sassy Gator: Mitt Romney ain’t your homeboy unless your home has a car elevator.

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This Obama Birther Certificate Tray from Fishs Eddy* proved so popular that it’s now backordered until December. 

Perfect for serving pupu to your Democratic friends … or crow to the Republicans.

Fishs Eddy is also selling this 10-ounce Barack Obama mug  and a companion Michelle Obama mug. Nothing for the competition except a Republican elephant puzzle.

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Wish it would all just stop already? I feel your pain. And I have just the remedy: this political ice pack, available at Uncommon Goods.

Freeze, use,  repeat until Election Day.

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* The story behind the Fishs Eddy name: “It was 1986 and we were driving around the back roads upstate New York (code for lost). We stumbled upon a small hamlet called Fishs Eddy. It was a perfectly odd name so we borrowed it for our just-opened shop near Gramercy Park.”

Every Woman a Queen

Patricia Hearst Shaw--remember her? with the Symbionese Liberation Army? and the roles in the John Waters movies?--was in the spotlight once again this week, this time in the genteel environs of the 132nd Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show, where her champion French bulldog took home the Best of Opposite Sex prize.

But enough about Patty. Let's talk about the dog. Specifically, the dog's name. On paper she's "Shann's Legally Blonde." But she picks up her ears and smiles a doggy smile when you call her "Diva."

Then again, who doesn't? Once upon a time, the term (which means "goddess" in Italian) was applied highly selectively, and with all due respect, to opera megastars such as Maria Callas. These days, everyone with a pair of X chromosomes is a diva. We're so democratic! Divacratic, even.

Consider this selective sampling from the brand-o-sphere:

Diva Cup®--"not a tampon, not a pad"--is a reusable silicone "menstrual solution," and without being overly graphic, I'll just say it's the least diva-esque product imaginable. (Full disclosure: I have used a similar product, and ladies, it truly is the answer to your prayers. Go get one.)

Divabetic wants to "makeover [sic] your diabetes." The organization sponsors events that are "your gateway to finding answers, feeling inspired and learning new ways to live well with diabetes while enjoying an exciting mix of free beauty and fashion services." The name was one of those coup de foudre things that happen when divas walk among us: "While attending a tribute concert to Luther Vandross ... [organization co-founder] Max [Szadek] coined the word 'divabetic' after watching Ms. Patti LaBelle reveal in her own sassy way that she was living with diabetes." Sign me up, girlfriend!

DIVA is "Europe's only mainstream lesbian magazine."

Hotel Diva, in San Francisco's theater district, calls itself a "Sexy Boutique Hotel" (caps sic). According to the hotel's designer, "hotels are about ... sleeping in a new bed, great linens, using as much hot water as you want, room service, getting up late, and having sex in the middle of the day." Now that's direct marketing.

Zappos, the online shoe store, features four pages of shoes code-named Diva, including the Gel-Dirt Diva 2 running shoe and the Diaper Dude Divas Diaper Bag. (Divas do diapers?)

"The Diva" is Old Navy's name for its lowest-rise jeans.

Diva Furniture sells furniture in Los Angeles and Seattle.

Viva Diva, a clothing boutique not far from where I live, gets points for rhyming.

Diva Espresso, which has four Seattle locations, gets points for referring to itself as "she" ("Diva paid her growing-pains dues...").

Surf Diva offers surfing lessons in San Diego.

Then there's the sisterhood of blogging divas: Cooking Diva, Techie Diva (pink! pink! pink!), Retail Design Diva (which had a nice post a few months ago on why store mannequins no longer smile).

Autism Diva hasn't posted in a while. I hope everything's OK.

And oh so much more: Diva Limousine (but of course!), Diva cooktops (divas cook?), Diva jewelry...

Still not quite sure about this diva thing? Take the Blogthings "Are You a Diva?" quiz (sample question: "Do you often cancel plans at whim?"). Then fine-tune the picture with the "What Decade Diva Are You?" test.

Finally, in honor of Patty Hearst and her champion canine companion: not one, not two, not three, but four "Diva Dog" brands on just the first page of a Google search: the Diva Dog collar collection, The Diva Dog "celebrity dog clothes," The Diva-Dog Bowtique, and Diva Dogs (UK).

P.S.: You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll roll around in something ripe when you see Diva Dog: Pit Bull on Wheels. From the plot synopsis:

The story of Coral, who was left permanently paralyzed by a hit-and-run driver. She touched and inspired people wherever she went, and now her legacy lives on as the official spokesdog for disabled animals everywhere.

Happy Valentine's Day, all you divas, human and otherwise. And smooches to you dudes, too.

Hat tip for the title of this post: Huey P. Long and Randy Newman.

Photo: Union Street clothing boutique, San Francisco.

No Strings Attached

In his latest "ad report card," Slate critic Seth Stevenson manfully takes on Playtex's new campaign for a tampon it's calling "Playtex Sport." (The tagline--honestly!--is "May the best protection win.") I haven't yet seen the spot, but I enjoyed Seth's description of "several crotch-centric shots, including a gymnast with legs splayed wildly and a snowboarder in a strained, midair squat." Yes, that's what we gals like to do, any time of the month!

I have to take issue, though, with Seth's argument that the campaign represents a bold new direction in tampon advertising, away from fearmongering (will I leak? will he notice?) and toward a more athletic image.

Unlike Seth, who is venturing into terra incognita here, I have some intimate knowledge (so to speak) of the subject--and not only because ain't I a woman? Many years ago I researched and wrote a book about tampons (it's waaay out of print, but immortalized in Straight Dope, which misspells my name only once). [Update: The misspelling has been fixed!] I was the first journalist allowed to tour the Tampax factory (then in Palmer, Massachusetts), and I may have been the first person to have had a tampon museum in her basement (tragically lost, or rather absorbed, in the Great Berkeley Flood of 1985). I also studied the rich lore of tampon marketing, which brings me to the subject at hand.

The "feminine protection"-sport connection is actually quite venerable, dating back at least to the 1960s. The marvelous online Museum of Menstruation and Women's Health (MUM.org; my name is misspelled there, too) reproduces a 1982 Stayfree pad ad featuring gymnast Cathy Rigby; a few years later, Mary Lou Retton hawked "petal soft" Tampax. (Only Rigby is depicted in crotch-centric action.) Tampon manufacturers, eager to deflect attention from their product's bizarre reputation as a deflowerer of virgins (a myth fomented largely by the Catholic Church), often touted "active lifestyle" as their product's main benefit.

Tampon package graphics drove home the sporting message--and inspired the following ancient joke, which I've copied from the MUM site:

Three boys are sitting on the stoop on a summer's afternoon. One of their fathers, exasperated that the kids are just sitting around, gives them five bucks and tells them to go amuse themselves. As they walk down Main Street they debate what they should do with the money. Should they buy a deck of cards? A football? Play in the arcade? "Wait a sec!" says one of the boys as he runs into the drug store. "Wait here!" A few minutes later he comes out with a package of tampons. "You idiot!" his friends shout. "We were going to have some fun. What are we going to do with those?" 

"Look what it says right here on the box," the boy replies: "You can go horseback riding, you can go swimming..."

(Yes, that's carefree girl Cheryl Tiegs up in the left-hand corner, in an early-1970s ad for Carefree tampons. Hat tip to Museum of Menstruation.)

Five Things

I got an email today from Pam at Escape from Cubicle Nation, inviting me to play a little blogging game called "Five Things You May Not Know About Me." The game is a sort of Internet chain letter, a meme that spreads semi-virally, semi-intentionally. Now, one of the things you may not know about me (but which I'm not going to include in the Five) is that I have never, ever participated in a chain letter, even when great riches were promised or catastrophic misfortune threatened. But "Five Things" seemed more playful than a conventional chain letter, and besides it involves original writing rather than recycling someone else's lame prose. So when Pam posted her own Five Things, and then invited me to join the game, I told her to count me in. I can't compete with Pam's tale of the green Hornet and the ambassador from the Maldives, but who mentioned competition? Not I.

Five Things You May Not Know About Me

1. When I was four years old, I was on Romper Room (Los Angeles edition) for a week. I can still sing all the lyrics to "Bend and Stretch, Reach for the Stars."

2. The summer after I graduated from high school, I worked as a clerk-typist for the L.A. Department of Water and Power. Eight hours a day, five days a week, everyone in the office did nothing but type rows and columns of numbers. (This was before desktop computing.) Every day, someone broke down sobbing from the sheer misery of it all. I think this may have something to do with my choice of self-employment for most of my subsequent career.

3. I am the author of Everything You Must Know About Tampons, which was published during the big toxic shock syndrome scare of the early 1980s. (For a while I had quite a rep as the menstruation maven.) I hosted a publication party and asked my guests to bring tampon art. My favorite offering was the giant "tampiñata" filled with candy.

4. I don't eat mammals--nothing political or philosophical about it, just never liked meat--but if I find myself in a Peruvian restaurant, I cannot resist ordering the anticuchos, which are skewered slices of beef heart. They're so good they're almost ... vegetative.

5. For seventeen years I swam almost daily on a masters swim team, and I still can't do a flip turn.

Okay, for this to work I need to find five victims willing participants. Over to you, Mary, Sile, Laurie, Matthew, and Sylvia: tell us five interesting things about yourself that your readers don't know. (I was going to tag Mike at Own Your Brand!, but someone else got to him first, darn it. Go read his post anyway. And then read Andy Nulman's.)