Mike Murray essay -- A Long Way, Baby

7 February 2009

A Long Way, Baby

--by Mike Murray

Ian Fleming (through his fictional James Bond character) and moguls of the precious-gem industry have for years been telling us that “diamonds are forever.” It was upon that assertion that the engagement-ring industry was built.

The reason that the multi-faceted sparklers became the standard offerings of eager, would-be husbands proposing marriage is that – supposedly – a diamond is an “eternal symbol” of love. A diamond is one tough rock. It takes eons of geological pressure (or the other-worldly strength of Superman) to create one. It lasts a very long time.

Therefore, it was suggested that when a man offered a prospective wife a diamond he did more than supply her with an attractive trinket; he did nothing less than prove that his pledge of undying devotion was legit. Because if the diamond was likely to last forever, so too would the marriage. Or so the thinking (more precisely, the ad campaign) went.

Then came a revolution. During the 1960s, 1970s, and 1980s scores of women became “liberated.” Billy Jean King pummeled a deeply wrinkled (and rules handicapped) Bobby Riggs in a circus-event tennis match, songstress Helen Reddy crooned “I am woman / hear me roar,” and bras became the fuel of bonfires on college campuses and town squares from coast to coast. Betty Friedan penned the Feminine Mystique. And a movement was born.

For a while after that, millions of women chose to retain their maiden names after marrying. Some hyphenated new and old; some rejected the new altogether. Still others refused the gift of deal-sealing diamond rings, believing them to be “symbols of man’s enslavement of women.” A few purchased their own engagement rings (proof that they were not “kept” by any man).

It was a heady time for females. It was also one that posed unique marketing challenges for diamond merchants who had been promoting traditionalism as a means of peddling their wares.

And then things changed. Again.

As it so often does, the pendulum of cultural norms reversed direction. Younger women adopted a hybrid version of their predecessors’ feminism. Many of the new breed desired a lifestyle that represented a blend of elements. They appreciated the new opportunities afforded them by an “enlightened” society – the ones that their mothers had fought for. But they also craved the old comforts that tradition had supplied – the ones that their grandmothers had enjoyed.

Sensing renewed opportunity, diamond purveyors pounced.

And they struck marketing gold. They informed men that it was no longer sufficient to simply buy your sweetie an engagement ring and think your diamond duty done. No, today – in order to prove yourself a devoted husband – you must “Show her you’d marry her all over again.” By, natch, purchasing an additional bobby dazzler. This one larger, glitzier, and (of course) more expensive than the first. (Hey mister, you’re older now. You’ve got the scratch. Fork it over, buddy. Unless, of course, you don’t really love your wife!)

Ah, you’ve got to hand it to the boys and girls of Madison Avenue – they really know how to push our buttons. And they’re lately pushing them hard. The advertisements they’ve come up with in recent years stagger the imagination.

When men are pelted with the “Every kiss begins with Kay” pitch, many can’t help but hear “Every boink begins with bling.” The message is clear: If you want her to put out – in even the smallest of ways – you’ve got spend some bucks first, buster. Because the road to her affection leads right through your neighborhood jewelry store (and your wallet).

And then there’s this one: “He went to Jared.” (And you didn’t, you slob.) He’s got girls everywhere oohing and aahing – and wet with excitement. Why, there’s not a single dry eye among his cutie’s envious friends. Fool. If only you’d thought to present an expensive gift of fine jewelry. (Looks like it’s another cold night on the couch for you, Stud Muffin.)

Yessirree, you’ve come a long way, baby. From personal property (“I now you pronounce you man and [his] wife”), to lioness, to gold digger – if the jewelry-industry commercials are to be believed.

How can a woman be truly liberated if she allows herself to be bought by a man bearing pricey baubles? Beats me.

On the other hand, Valentine’s Day is fast approaching. And I’m not crazy enough to allow it arrive with me empty-handed. Is it too late to go online and procure one of those cute little teddy bears? Or maybe arrange for the delivery of a sexy pajama outfit? (She’ll think I “planned all month!”)