In the men’s restroom at the History of Advertising Trust’s archive, located in the depths of Norfolk, hangs a photograph of cricket legend Ian Botham. The image, not only marked by Botham’s iconic mullet but also by his cigar, takes us back to 1986. The caption humorously echoes a philosophical inquiry, stating, “Happiness is a cigar called Hamlet.”
Exploring the realm of advertising history is akin to venturing into a peculiar alternate dimension. In this whimsical universe, enthusiastic metallic aliens convinced consumers to purchase Cadbury’s powdered potatoes with the memorable tagline: “For mash get Smash.” Here, bowler-hatted monkeys, dressed as movers, playfully persuaded audiences to enjoy PG Tips tea, while numerous sports figures endorsed harmful cigarettes.
For younger generations, including Gen Z, many of the 10 million items housed in HAT’s collection, along with 50,000 commercials available on its website, may seem bizarre. However, for baby boomers, these treasures evoke vivid memories reminiscent of Proust’s involuntary recollections. One can spot Nicole and Papa from a 1991 Renault Clio advertisement, parodying melodramatic French cinema like Jean de Florette. The Gold Blend couple, Anthony Head and Sharon Maughan, whose love story unfolded over Nescafé in a commercial watched by 30 million viewers in 1993, also makes an appearance. Additionally, there’s the memorable scene of a young boy in a cap, struggling with his Hovis-laden bicycle on cobblestones, set to Dvořák’s New World Symphony in Ridley Scott’s 1973 advertisement.
These nostalgic items are preserved online and in former barns that Sir Nicholas Hickman Ponsonby Bacon has leased to HAT. Just as T.S. Eliot’s Prufrock measured his life in coffee spoons, many can trace their own lives through advertisements. For example, one can recall Frank Muir, clad in a bow tie and top hat, leaning against his Rolls-Royce while promoting Cadbury’s chocolate in a 1977 television spot with the quirky tune: “Everyone’s a fruit and nut case / I find it very healthy for my ego.”
Then there’s the relatable moment from 1986 when Gregor Fisher’s Baldy Man entered a photo booth to prepare for a passport picture, only to face a series of comedic mishaps. As the seat repeatedly collapsed and his hair became disheveled, Bach’s Air on a G String played, and a cloud of smoke emerged. While it couldn’t be claimed that smoking was beneficial for health at the time, the ad humorously implied it could offer comfort during a bad hair day.
Advertising often stirs intense, albeit irrational, loyalties among consumers. Take, for instance, the ongoing rivalry between price comparison websites, Go.Compare and CompareTheMarket, dramatized on television with a group of meerkats speaking in Russian accents battling a flamboyant tenor. “I can’t stand that man!” exclaimed John Gordon-Saker, HAT’s executive director, as we shared coffee during my visit, expressing his preference for the meerkats over the opera singer.
While this may seem trivial, such emotional attachments can significantly impact business success. Gordon-Saker exemplifies this sentiment, continuing to drink PG Tips out of nostalgia for the animated chimps, despite the clear fact that they don’t enhance the taste of the tea. His experience underscores the notion that consumers are not always rational decision-makers; rather, they are often influenced by cleverly marketed mascots and romantic couples enjoying instant coffee.
Some may dismiss an archive dedicated to advertising as inconsequential, but this perspective is misguided. Since Walter Benjamin began compiling advertising posters from 19th-century Paris for his notable work, The Arcades Project, such artifacts have played a crucial role in understanding modern consumer behavior and the willingness of individuals to purchase products that can be detrimental to their well-being.
The archive I had the unique opportunity to explore coincides with HAT’s 50th anniversary, offering a more expansive version of Benjamin’s Arcades. Deputy Director Alistair Moir guided me through various highlights. On display, he showcased advertisements that illustrate evolving perceptions of smoking. One such ad from the 1940s features a glamorous woman in pearls holding a cigarette, promoting Craven A cigarettes with the tagline: “Craven A – for your throat’s sake. Made specifically to prevent sore throats.” When I questioned Moir about this claim, he replied, “I don’t know. But in the 1930s and 40s, you could pretty much say anything.”
However, after the Royal College of Physicians published its influential Smoking and Health report in 1962, firmly linking smoking to serious health issues, regulations began to shift. Two years later, cigarette advertising on television was banned, and the Advertising Standards Authority prohibited any implication that smoking could be healthy. This marked a significant turning point in advertising strategies.
Consequently, instead of depicting healthy, happy individuals smoking, advertisements began to leverage the power of suggestion to associate smoking with a desirable lifestyle. For instance, one magazine ad showcased images of luxurious items, such as tickets to the 1976 Montreal Olympics, elegantly paired with a golden box of Benson & Hedges cigarettes.
Moir noted the interesting ways regulations influenced creativity within advertising. Some campaigns became surreal, featuring a Benson & Hedges box positioned next to a mousehole, suggesting it was a trap, or presenting a striking slash through a piece of purple fabric to market Silk Cut cigarettes. “These ads treated the consumer with a bit more intelligence,” he explained, indicating that viewers had to engage more deeply with the content to grasp the underlying messages.
Yet, while this might imply that creativity and morality sometimes coexist uneasily, Moir also revealed another ad campaign from HAT’s collection, highlighting the impact of the Second World War on advertising strategies.
