Tasha Dhanraj on the grim power of advertising

I have finally succumbed to years of relentless advertising of air fresheners. It is impossible to avoid at least being slightly tempted by the thought of a tacky piece of plastic that would pump a waft of artificial scents at random intervals. I don’t need one and yet somehow I’ve just returned from the supermarket with £15 worth of air fresheners to mask those strong odours of fish, garlic and wet dogs that the advertisers have managed to convince me that my house smells of.

It’s as though the marketing directors genuinely think that people do go about their daily lives shrouded in an overpowering stench of the most bizarre concoction of things that may have passed through their door. The fact is, doing a bit of cleaning and spraying a bit of Dettol instead of living in your own filth will eradicate these smells.

Plus, why would we want to replace the smells of beef and socks with fragrances such as ‘Wild Berry’? I don’t have a clue what that’s supposed to smell of. I’ve never eaten a fruit salad and thought ‘ooh, I wish my bedroom smelled like this’.

It’s the same reason I bought a pile of coloured sand that you can make castles with and a Belgian waffle iron. Even with objects that I know I don’t need and are useless, with an attrition of posters, commercials and adverts I will eventually be worn down and the consumerist puppy that I am will buy it. If only Haig had fired military strategists and started hiring the characters from Mad Men then the First World War would have ended a
lot sooner.

“I don’t have a clue what that’s supposed to smell of”

I’m a fairly intelligent person. I shouldn’t need to have my down-to-earth, indie, anti-consumerist, vegan friends to tell me why I shouldn’t waste my hard-earned allowance on a butter dish that makes a ‘Moo’ noise every time I open it.

And yet still, I find myself sitting in a room that smells unnervingly of strawberry flavoured toothpaste and wondering why I don’t have enough money to buy a new towel with a picture of a cat on it.

I am of one of the first generations to grow up being so utterly surrounded with mass advertising in every part of life. I couldn’t escape this barrage unless I literally lived under a rock. The only choice I have is either to bow gracefully and fill my room with junk I never wanted, or just develop a stronger personality.