Sunday, September 30, 2007
Back in elementary, I remember proudly strutting down the school hallways with my Esprit backpack slung on my shoulders (never mind that the brown straps did not match my black school shoes) that my mom brought back for me from one of her trips to the US. Being the probinsyana that I was, I thought, "wow, I look so cool!" I remember that my most prized possessions at that tender age came from a balikbayan box and bore the name "Esprit": my yellow wallet which didn't really do anything to organize my money, my brown ankle Doc Marten-type boots which I would probably not even touch these days (too butch), a pair of jeans that I insisted on wearing every chance I had... the list goes on. I remember "discreetly" showing off my stuff in class, and whenever my classmates would ask to look at them, I would "nonchalantly" oblige, as if I didn't really care, but I would be secretly glowing with pride.
Fast forward 15 years.
Handling brand management for the company I work for has definitely changed my perspective about brands in general. What is a brand anyway? It is a trade name given to a product or service. What is its relevance to us consumers? It is a promise of a level of quality a consumer can expect from the brand. Are some people better than others because they prefer (and posess) certain brands? No.
Apparently, though, some people still think so.
A few days ago, I was waiting for the elevator when a girl I worked with came up beside me. She was wearing a t-shirt, jeans and sneakers. Since the office dress code was corporate, I asked her, "Hey, why are you in jeans? Did you go somewhere?"
She said, "yeah, I went on an ocular inspection for the sports fest. Grabe, It was so hot outside!"
"Talaga? I bet." Then I glanced down at her white sneakers. I noticed that I had similar ones, not exactly identical, but from the same design family. So I mentioned, "hey, I have kind of the same sneakers, only mine are beige."
She looked at me disbelievingly. She lifted the leg of her jeans to show off the brand name seared at the ankle flap, showed it to me, and then looked at me with an annoying are-you-sure expression on her face, and said, "uh, DIESEL to."
I said, "oo nga."
Didn't I just say that I owned a similar pair of shoes? Since I did, don't you think that I would be well aware of what brand they were? Or were you thinking that there was no way that I could have owned a pair of expensive shoes like she did? Did she actually think that there was no way I could afford it? (Actually, I got them at an unbelievable knock-off, but that wasn't the point.)
Before my brain could react, the elevator doors opened and we got inside, and after 3 seconds, we were back on our floor, ungulfed with work once again, and the incident was temporarily forgotten.
The next day, we found ourselves working on something on her laptop. We were having a discussion on a presentation I was about to do in a few minutes. Then I noticed her Lacoste pouch sitting on the table (she always carries this green Lacoste pouch wherever she goes, whether it is to a meeting, or an event, or even just to talk to someone on another floor. The pouch is always within a 2-foot radius from her), so I casually asked, "hey, what's in there? I noticed kasi na you always have that pouch around, so curious lang ako what's in it."
"Ah, wait." She opened the pouch and showed me the contents. Two cellphones, a pen, lipbalm, a rosary and her thumb drive. "Some stuff lang I always have to have with me. I can't carry all of them naman just like this, so I bought a nice pouch... in Divisoria."
I was still studying the presentation on her laptop, so I absentmindedly said, "mmmm, ok."
I noticed from my peripheral view that she was still looking at me with a grin (smirk, if you will), as if waiting for a reaction. I, on the other hand, being too caught up in the thought of having to do a presentation for the management, didn't really pay attention to her.
Having gotten no reaction at all, she nudged me a little, "do you really think I would buy something from Divisoria?" Then she grinned.
Still only half-listening, I said, "uh, I don't know." Then I continued to do some revisions on the presentations.
"Of course I don't. I don't buy fake stuff." Then she grinned at me.
I discreetly took a deep breath. Hindi ko nalang pinatulan. "Ah, ok. Me neither." I smiled, then left the room.
As I recounted the two incidents to my close friends during lunch that day, we were all laughing and rolling our eyes at the same time. Apparently, this girl is a known brand whore (her friendster profile photo, after all, shows her at some hallway, wearing a yellow shirt with a huge "MANGO" printed on her chest while holding a cold Starbucks drink, logo facing the camega, of course), and they all had their own similar encounters with her. We all just shook our heads and decided that the inis really wasn't worth it, and that it was more funny and pathetic than anything else. I really have little respect for people who think the are better off than others just because they possess branded stuff (don't even get me started on Malu Fernandez).
Don't get me wrong, I am totally into brands too. I am very much partial to some, but not JUST because of the brand name and the price tag it connotes. I find that I am partial to some brands because certain denim brands fit me better, or certain make-up brands don't make me breakout in pimples, or that certain shoe brands come up with the designs I love. I choose brands because of how they work for me, not just because of what they are. We are, after all, living in a branded world, but it is not what you possess, but how you pull it off and make it work for you.
About the Author
I have quit trying to figure out the inner workings of God's mind. I have learned to just sit back and enjoy the ride.
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