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In other words, there should be certain people repeatedly saying and doing certain things, in and for certain social situations, in a manner that is accepted by public opinion in any form of community. In the advertising industry, magicians correspond to “creative” personnel (in particular, copywriters, creative and art directors, but also photographers, makeup artists, hair stylists, and others called upon to produce advertisements); rites to competitive presentations and the production of advertising campaigns; and formulaic representations to individual advertisements.
Before going any further, I should make it clear that there is not an exact analogy between magicians in so-called “primitive” societies and contemporary creative practitioners. The latter do not generally inherit their role as magician in the way that the former often do: it is not membership of a particular group that determines whether they will, or will not, become creative practitioners (Malinowski 1922: 410).1 Nor do they necessarily have a “nervous disposition,” regarded as somehow standing outside society (Mauss 1972: 32-3), although they may do so temporarily during the exercise of their creative processes (Moeran 2006: 88; Malefyt and Morais 2012: 81-2). Nor are they usually concerned with the nature of their “soul,” which can separate from the magician’s body and, like a shaman, create a “familiar” (Howells 1985).2
Nevertheless, in other respects there are noteworthy similarities between magicians and contemporary creative practitioners. Creative personnel possess magical powers, not so much because of individual characteristics they display―these may involve both physical peculiarities and extraordinary gifts―but because of society’s attitude towards them: they are regarded as able to accomplish things beyond the power of normal human beings (Mauss 1972: 33). At different stages in history and in different parts of the world, certain professions have been (and still are) seen to possess magical powers because of their dexterity and outstanding knowledge: in particular, doctors and others in the medical profession; blacksmiths, and other craftsmen; but also actors, barbers, executioners, gypsies, gravediggers, priests, and shepherds. In the contemporary advertising, fashion and beauty worlds, this list now includes copywriters, creative and art directors; fashion and creative designers; accessories, hairdressing, and fitness gurus; stylists-in-chief; makeup artists; exercise honchos—not to mention the divas, muses, icons, and plain old celebrities who are used by and sustain them. As Marcel Mauss (1972: 29) put it: “it is their profession which sets them apart from the common run of mortals, and it is this separateness which endows them with magical power.”3
Magic includes one or more central operations in which the magician acts. It becomes, then, ritual action whose symbolic meaning is often associated with a liminality characteristic of “rites of passage” (Van Gennep 1960; Malefyt and Morais 2012: 38-40), as well as with “social dramas” (Turner 1974; Moeran 2006: 65-9). In advertising, the central operation is the regular ritual of the competitive presentation by an agency to a client. This is a magical rite, whose time and place are strictly prescribed, as transformations are brought about in a liminal space between agency personnel (account managers, creatives, market researchers, and media buyers), through use of a special kind of chant (the “pitch”) designed to persuade a client of a creative team’s ability as a collective magician to transform a product into a brand (often infused with animisti―and animalisti―qualities). Like magic in general, then, advertising initially tends not to be performed just anywhere, but in specially qualified places, with special materials and tools (Mauss 1972: 46). Its “rites are eminently effective; they are creative, they do things” (ibid., p. 19).
Magical rites can be both verbal and non-verbal. While competitive presentations in advertising are primarily verbal, fashion collections are quite the opposite. Non-verbal rites make use of two kinds of magic. One of these is sympathetic (or symbolic) magic, which assumes that there is a causal relationship between things that appear to be similar, so that imitation of a desired end causes that end to appear (the perfume Happy causes its wearer to be “happy”). The other is contagious magic, which is based on the premise that things that were once in contact always maintain a connection (continued happiness depends on continued use of Happy).4 In particular, magic makes use of substances whose virtues are seen to be transmitted through contact and so provides the means of using objects sympathetically. Magic is cuisine, pharmacy, chemistr―the art of preparing and mixing concoctions, fermentations, dishes, and providing them with a ritual character which contributes to the efficacy of magic itself (Parfums Chopard: The enchantment of the moment) (Mauss 1972: 50-9).
Many rites, however, are verbal and make use of spells, which tend to be formulaic (consider, for example, the standardised use of headline, image, body copy, and tagline in an advertisement) and be composed in a special language (Smashing Lashes; Drop Dead Nails), but which are first and foremost composed as actions that achieve practical effects (Malinowski 1922: 423, 432).5 One group of spells corresponds to sympathetic magical rites: they name the actions or things in order to bring about the sympathetic reaction (“Shades that don’t fade for eyes that wo―even 8 hours from now”).6 Sometimes the mention of a rite’s name alone is enough to produce effect (Clean Sensation; No Time to Shine).7 Verbal rites also comprise mythical spells which:
“Describe the genesis and enumerate the names and characteristics of the being, thing or demon concerned in the rite. It is a kind of investigatory process by which the demon involved in the spell is slowly uncovered. The magician institutes magical proceedings, establishes the identity of the powers involved, catches hold of them and brings them under control by the use of his own power” (Mauss 1972: 56).
Magical representations, the third element in the system of magic, “are those ideas and beliefs which correspond to magical actions” (Mauss 1972: 61). Since ritual is a kind of language, it also translates ideas and representations of ideas. Here there is display of magic’s effect (The Clinique Happy ad is illustrated by a wide-mouthed, laughing young woman looking happy). But every instance of a magical rite takes account of the general effects of magic, so that, no matter how different the results of each advertisement, together they are thought to have common characteristics involving a change of state. Either the objects or beings involved are placed in a state so that certain movements, accidents or phenomena will inevitably occur (Persil washes whiter); or they are brought out of a dangerous state (Do you suffer from chronic halitosis?) by means of a particular remedy (Listerine kills germs that cause bad breath) (cf. Mauss 1972: 61).
MAGICAL SPELLS
In “The magical power of words,” Stanley Tambiah (1968) examined the use of words in ritual and the fact that the uttering of words is itself a ritual. Most ritual systems, he argued, progress from word to thought to power, and finally to dee―a dénouement that characterises the structure of cosmetics and skincare advertisements, designed to enchant and entice their readers, by means of words and images used as magical representations, to go out and buy actual products.
So far as Tambiah was concerned, verbal forms in ritual were in many ways “spells,” whose power derived from their being uttered in a very special context.8 The example that he gave to illustrate this was a Sinhalese healing ritual, which made use of three kinds of verbal form. The first, a mantra, adopted an archaic language of command―accompanied by a language of entreaty and persuasion―to summon the demons responsible for the disease. Then followed the kannalavva which “states why the ceremony is being held, describes the nature of the patient’s affliction and makes a plea for the gods to come and bless the ceremony and to the demons to act benevolently and remove the disease” (Tambiah 1968: 177). The major part of the ceremony was then taken up by highly lyrical and literary quatrains called kaviya, designed to define, objectify, and personify evil and disease, and to present them realistically, so that appropriate action could be taken to change the undesirable to the desirable―a necessary precondition of the cure. Finally, the ritual ended with a repeat of the mantra which enacted the expulsion of the demon itself.
The parallel between a healing ritual in distant Sri Lanka and many contemporary beauty-related advertisements placed in fashion and beauty magazines by corporate giants in Paris and New York is rather remarkable. Firstly, every advertisement carries a headline summoning a particular part of the body, which is demonised by omission for not being what it should be (Lash PotionTM Mascara, Drop Dead Nails). Alternatively, a headline will summon a particular effect sought by purchase of the advertised product without specific mention of a part of the body (can your smooth pass the second-day test?). Or it will summon a product or product range (L’Oréal’s Magicsmooth Soufflé).
Secondly, each headline is usually accompanied by a sub-heading, which provides an explanation of the “problem” addressed by the ad (Discover instant smooth perfection). This is followed, thirdly, by an advertisement’s copy, forming the “body” of the written part of the ad. It defines, names, or at least by omission hints at, the affliction―dryness, lack of endurance, artificiality, imperfection, difficulty in handling, and so on―that the ad seeks to remedy. For example: “Start your look with skin-matching makeup―a weightless foundation that goes on white and self-adjusts to match your natural skin tone. In 5 shades with a flawless finish.”9
Finally the closing mantra of every ad is the tagline, which is used to announce the necessary condition of the cure provided. Thus we find makeup mantras like: The most unforgettable women in the world wear Revlon; Because I’m/you’re worth it (L’Oréal); and For beautiful human life (Kanebo).10
Tambiah (1968: 177-8) notes that, in Sinhalese healing rituals, the mantra is in many ways incomprehensible to ordinary people because it makes use of an archaic language no longer spoken by ordinary people.Again, there is a slight, though not exact, parallel here with advertising headlines, which are not always immediately or fully comprehensible, even though they clearly make some sort of sense: for example, Drama Queen, Just Bitten, or Magnified Shine Feels So Divine. Headlines, though, differ from body copy in ads in much the same way as sacred language differs from vernacular or profane language used in ritual. There is a sequence of forms which starts out by chanting aloud sacred words, moves to readily comprehensible vernacular language (short phrases, plenty of punctuation), and finishes with a combination of the two.
As in ritual, advertisers use language in ways that connote their power (over beauty) to exorcise the demons of unattractiveness. First, they are possessors of secret knowledge that they reveal to consumers (“A lipstick only Lancôme could create”). This kind of knowledge is expressed through formulae which, once voiced, act and influence the course of events (Tambiah 1968: 184). They are so special that they have aetherial or magical qualities: “At the heart of the success of Les Majeurs are Lancôme’s exclusive microbubbles. These minute, supple spheres rest invisibly on the surface of the skin… The magic of makeup.”
Next, cosmetics and skincare companies’ specialized knowledge invites consumers to participate in a dream world of fantasy and belief (Shades that flirt with fantasy).11 “Believe it. Revitalizing Makeup. Only by Maybelline.” Both rituals and advertisements, then, make use of the magical power inherent in sacred words to persuade adherents to believe in what is displayed. Three notions form an interrelated set in each. First, there are magicians in the form of cosmetics manufacturers, who institute speech and classifying activity. Then there are the people―usually in the form of the fashion magazine women readers―who use this propensity. Last, there is language, which has an independent existence and the mystical power to influence the reality of beauty. Advertising is a heightened use of language that aims to combine word and deed (the persuasion to purchase and make use of a product) by using spells especially constructed to effect a magical transfer. As in many magical practices found among tribal peoples around the world, beauty advertisements isolate and enumerate “the various or constituent parts of the recipient of the magic” (a woman’s eyes, hair, lashes, lips, nails, skin, and so on), and then make a magical transfer that enables them to become “dazzling,” “healthy,” “luscious,” “kissable,” “soft,” “natural,” and so forth (Tambiah 1968: 190). By building up these parts, we are able to form a realistic picture of the whole―a metonymic technique that lends realism to the rite of makeup, transmits a message about beauty through redundancy, and allows the storing of vital technological knowledge in an oral culture of women’s gossip.
Moreover, in these rituals, verbal formulae are often accompanied by the manipulation of objects of one sort or another, which then become charged with special potency. This is similar to the construction of beauty advertisements, which make use of highly-charged images of beautiful women―in particular of celebrities, who make use of their own enchantment through glamour12―who show that the intended effect of the magical formulae can be achieved (Tambiah 1968: 190-1). In conclusion, beauty advertising, like ritual, attempts to:
Re-structure and integrate the minds and emotions of the actors. The technique combines verbal and non-verbal behaviour and exploits their special properties. Language is an artificial construct and its strength is that its form owes nothing to external reality: it thus enjoys the power to invoke images and comparisons, refer to time past and future and relate events which cannot be represented in action. Non-verbal action on the other hand, excels in what words cannot easily do – it can codify analogically by imitating real events, reproduce technical acts and express multiple implications simultaneously. Words excel in expressive enlargement, physical actions in realistic representation. (Tambiah 1968: 202)
DISCUSSION
The argument presented has theoretical, methodological, and business implications. It also offers opportunities for analysis in empirical situations.
Features of Magic
First, as hinted earlier, the system of magic described and analysed here is applicable to other spheres of business: in particular, to those which, like advertising, are forms of cultural production in which uncertainty prevails. An obvious example here is the fashion industry, whose primary magicians are designers, ably supported by a cast of photographers, hair stylists, and makeup artists working together to weave magical effects upon models (whose features should, ideally, be not too pronounced to enable the magicians to transform them into chameleon-like characters). This they do primarily in seasonal collections and advertising campaign—those ritual occasions during which “fashion” is revealed to its public.
As I said earlier, magic both breeds and accompanies uncertainty.13 The magician’s aim is to substitute what is uncertain with something that only he (or she) knows and makes public through magical action (“When the cameras catch you, make sure you’ve got your best features on show—sleek, smooth hips and thighs”).14
Magic also involves revelation, for through revelation uncertainty is overcome. In the fashion industry, this is the task of the fashion magazine (“Three stylish women reveal how they’ll be updating their wardrobes for winter”).15 Revelation involves showing what is unseen, by means of secrets, illusions, tips, and tricks:
A flawless complexion has long been the Holy Grail for beauty-seekers. But most of us need to create the illusion with cosmetic cover-ups. Emma Bannister reveals a fistful of products that you can rely on if you haven’t been lucky enough to be blessed with perfect skin.16
Revelation also leads to reincarnation—either of a fashion item (The rebirth of the twinset),17 or of style (Replaying classic Parisian chic),18 or of a person (Every day your skin is reborn through the wonder of SK-ii. Discovered by a Japanese monk, SK-II combines the magic of nature with the advances of science…).19 In this last case, reincarnation, or “the gift of rebirth,” acts as magical potion and antidote to the perennial problem of ageing.
Magical rites should have immediate effects (“surprisingly wearable looks leapt from the catwalk straight into women’s wardrobes.”20 New Year, new you.)21They also effect transformations (Figure flaw fixers).22 Mostly, these go together (Get a better body by tonight).23 Still, such transformations must be done in the right way by the right magician (“Don’t let just anybody transform your body”).24
However, the fashion magazine goes beyond particular instances of magical rites to create a general aura of magic in the fashion world. In Pukka Party, we learn that “Cartier International Polo at Windsor Great Park was one of the most glamorous events of the year. Not only did Cartier command a star-studded guest list, they somehow arranged for the sun to make a brief appearance, too.”25 As the anthropologist John Middleton (1967: ix) noted many years ago:
The realm of magic is that in which human beings believe that they may directly affect nature and each other, for good or for ill, by their own efforts (even though the precise mechanism may not be understood by them), as distinct from appealing to divine powers by sacrifice or prayer.
Magic And Economic Properties
As I said, a similar argument to that presented here may be made for other forms of cultural production in which uncertainty prevails (which is why it is applicable to the world of finance, too). But at least four other economic properties mentioned by Caves aid and abet the development of a magical system in advertising, fashion, film, and elsewhere. One of these properties he calls art for art’s sake; another motley crew; a third infinite variety; and the fourth A list/B list.
As Bourdieu (1993) noted many years ago, there is, in all forms of cultural production, an opposition between their “commercial” and “non-commercial” activities. This opposition acts as a fundamental, occasionally disavowed, structuring principle of the fields of fashion, music, film, and so on―a principle which then generates many of the judgements made about their products. The fact that both fashion and fashion magazines, for example, are products of “a vast operation of social alchemy” (Bourdieu 1986: 137) means that there is often no clear measurement between their cost of production and commercial value.
The opposition between “creative” and “humdrum” aspects of the field of fashion leads to a focus on interpersonal relationships, rather than on “the bottom line” characteristic of most industries (Moeran 2014: 119-40). As a director of Elle’sinternational editions put it during an extended interview:
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