2010-01-14 :: Kevin Murphy
As consumer goods go, I’ve got no time for oranges.
A world containing orange juice has no need of oranges. Faced with the choice between Orange and Orange Juice, the choice is clear.
If I may deploy a gratuitous sex simile, it’s like taking a really gorgeous naked chick, then dressing her up in an impenetrable gimp suit and giving her a yeast infection.
I have no idea what was going through the manufacturer’s minds.
So I surprised myself when walking past a corner shop in Earl’s Court a couple months ago. Proudly advertised just inside the doorway was a big tray of oranges, boasting the slogan “Big Orange – 50p”.
Big Orange.
I went in and bought one immediately. Didn’t even think about it.
It’s possibly the most effective piece of marketing I’ve ever come across.
Scrawled in black felt pen on a scrap of white card in the doorway of a skanky corner shop: “Big Orange”. One adjective (two if you want to be difficult) totally sold me on the idea.
Yeah, I want a big orange. A Big Orange.
An hour later I’m back at my hotel, staring stupidly at this big orange, wondering why the hell I bought it and what I was supposed to do with it.
Stupid impulse buys.
Anyway, I only bring this up now, months after the event, because I’ve just found the big orange at the bottom of my bag.
It’s not very big any more. Or orange.
:: Read on