There's a new snack product out there called Fling.
You may have heard of it—finger-shaped, chocolate truffle bars that come in a pink wrapper, touted as being a “good” indulgence with a measly offering of 85 calories per finger. Basically about enough satisfaction that one third of a regular Three Musketeers Bar, or an eighth of a Butterfinger will indulge you.
Fling is marketing itself solely to female consumers with its flirty name, feminine colored packaging, and marketing slogans that one really has to remind herself after hearing—“It's only a candy bar.”
Checking out its website, http://www.flingchocolate.com, I thought I was entering a territory of soft Internet porn. You see a wave of pink cross onscreen, and a loading curser says: “Get ready for naughtiness.”
Gulp!
Then the tag reads: “Ladies life is too short. Don't let it get too boring. Sometimes you need to be a little naughty—to taste the sweetness.”
Mars, the candy company that created Fling, is heavily promoting the candy as representing a universal fabulousness embodying raw femininity, with its dainty, slender-conscious shape and hyper-feminine, hyper-sexualized marketing slogans. Mars' reps said they made Fling to “celebrate the female spirit,” that's unapologetic, playful and flirty and brings “shimmer” to the world.
Nice, I thought to myself, but does this include days when we've got bad hair and skin, maybe experiencing some seasonal bloat? The site didn't really give me any answers.
Fling, reps continued, is a light indulgence that's not greedy; one all ladies can eat and not feel guilty about. Flings can be had just about anywhere, anytime. To order the candy online, instructions said: “Where to get some.” To take care of one's Fling: “Between 65-75 degrees is ideal. Then you can pleasure yourself with this chocolate sensation time and time again.”
Sheesh, I thought, Mars left nothing to the imagination which audience they're marketing to. They've pulled out all the stops, calling the candy “fingers,” and when you eat one you're not just eating, you're “pleasuring.”
“Go out and be as fabulous as you want to be. Lick the wrapper. Shake things up. Nobody's looking,” they said.
I don't recall a memo saying ladies needed anyone's permission to do any of these things—be fabulous, shake things, enjoy sugary carbs. Like all human beings, it's good to indulge the spirit. But why we indulge is out of pure necessity—not because we wish to put out a sexy vibe, or only do so with things wrapped in pretty packages.
This is another example of advertising gone wrong. This campaign comes off a bit creepy—and kind of insulting. Knowing that marketers devised this plot to specifically send a message to females, “It's OK to eat candy that looks like this,” is depressing. It indicates some parts of society still believe women are gullible enough to believe such messages, that if they buy a product, they'll imbibe all the qualities it claims to represent. Seriously, are we that superficial?
In the 1970s it was Special K and Tab cola, then it was Snack Wells in the 90s. Now, it's Flings for the new millennium—another advertisement campaign strikes gold playing on the insecurities of the female psyche. If this product starts flying off the shelves, advertisers can declare victory—again. But if you ask me, this product and all its frilly features hardly stacks up to the real thing.
Sometimes, a girl just wants to have her cake, and eat it too.
End note: Write to the Point readers, after four and half years of writing to you every other week, I regret to inform you this column will be my last, as I'm moving on to other employment prospects. I've loved sharing my insights with you, and wanted to say thanks to all who cared to read what was on my mind.
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