When does a fad go bad? Look no further than 'charitable' wristbands.
Peter Hartlaub (San Fran Chronicle)
Friday, October 28, 2005
When Lance Armstrong's LIVESTRONG bracelets appeared out of nowhere a few years ago, the campaign was a classic win-win: The Tour de France champion and testicular cancer survivor's yellow band raised tens of millions of dollars for cancer research -- while improving the karma of a nearly equal number of consumers.
And then, practically overnight, charity transformed into must-have fashion accessory. Take a short walk down Market Street in San Francisco today, and you can find orange and green silicone bracelets that say SAN FRANCISCO, tie-dyed ones with the words PEACE and GROOVY and less tasteful items stamped with PLAYBOY and UP YOURS -- all of the above benefiting nothing more than the opportunistic companies that printed the 10-cent rubber bands and jacked up the price to $3.
Which brings us to the following question, one that can be custom-ordered and printed at several create-your-own-wristband Web sites: IS EVERY GOOD IDEA
IN HISTORY DOOMED TO OVEREXPOSURE?
With fads spreading faster than ever in this media-consuming culture, we've managed to screw up just about everything that was once cool. Over the years, overexposure has systematically ruined the black "in mourning" symbol on basketball jerseys, the shouting of "Free Bird" as a rock-concert request and practically every line of dialogue from the movie "Napoleon Dynamite." Even the AIDS ribbon reached the saturation point in the 1990s -- "Seinfeld" devoted an entire episode to making fun of its ubiquity.
Remaining up-to-date without getting left behind has become nearly a full-time job for consumers, who never know when the latest trend will be hijacked by every middle-school kid in America. Ideas that were good for dozens of years can become passe practically overnight. The toga party was cool for more than 20 centuries, right up until "Animal House" came out in 1978. Within a few years, every frat house and high school had transformed the ancient tradition into just another useless cliche.
Depending on the trend, it can be easy to figure out when overexposure has set in. Language overkill has become especially easy to figure out in recent years -- just follow the Katie Couric Rule of Lexicon Demolition: A saying goes out of style at the precise moment when "Today" host Couric uses it for the first time.
For example: "For shizzle" was ruined at about 8:35 a.m. Dec. 9, 2003, when Couric uttered the phrase during an interview with Fran Drescher. And "bling" lost its bling a little after 8 p.m. Oct. 16, 2003, when Couric used the term incorrectly -- "talk about bling-bling-bling, man" -- to describe a diamond ring.
(For those partial to the phrase "that's just how I roll," have fun while it lasts -- Al Roker already has used the phrase this year, and history proves that Couric will follow soon.)
If only clothes and accessories had a Couric Rule. Since "Beverly Hills, 90210" went off the air, it's nearly impossible to pinpoint the death of a fashion trend.
For example, if you were the third guy who put on a "Vote for Pedro" T-shirt, then you were pretty cool. If you're No. 3 million, then you're a total sheep. But what about those 2,999,996 people in between? Where is the line between leader and follower?
Armstrong definitely was the leader in the silicone-wristband trend. But after pink bracelets showed up for breast cancer research, light blue bracelets emerged to fight prostate cancer and Bob Geldof's white ONE band focused on global poverty -- noble causes all -- the color spectrum suddenly became too small for the flood of diseases, disorders and discomforts that wanted in.
Just look at Internet sites such as personalizedcause.com, which explains that green bracelets represent everything from organ donation to missing children to worker safety. Purple bracelets represent domestic violence, cystic fibrosis and homelessness.
Dark blue bracelets seem to have the monopoly on the most random causes -- from anti-bullying to water quality to something called short bowel syndrome. (Burgundy is a close second, representing headaches, hospice care and cesarean sections.)
While some sites, including the one listed above, claim charitable intentions, it's ridiculous to think that most of the dozens of wristband sites on the Internet care about anything beyond making money. To prove this point, I went to the benevolent-sounding goodsforgiving.com, and ordered a custom bracelet with the most horrible slogan that I could think of that is still publishable in a family newspaper: CLUB BABY SEALS.
A few moments later, I received good news! Gifts for Giving informed me of a special offer -- my navy blue CLUB BABY SEALS bracelet entitled me to $1 off a second band, which I chose to inscribe with the following: SILICONE BANDS
ARE FOR LOSERS.
To be fair, neither band had arrived by press time -- and to my knowledge, no money actually went to promote the clubbing of baby seals. But Gifts for Giving did charge my credit card for close to $30, so at least someone came out ahead.
Of course, even this subversive display had elements of overkill. There are already several companies specializing in anti-wristband wristbands, including Archie McPhee & Co., which sells black bands that feature the seven deadly sins, along with the words APATHY and NIHILISM.
"All those bright rubber bracelets are so damned positive and life affirming," the online sales pitch reads. "Don't any of those trendy folks that wear them ever have a bad day?"
E-mail Peter Hartlaub at
phartlaub@sfchronicle.com.
Regardless, I'll wear mine for awhile and then pass it onto the little collectors.
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