Jane placed the ads in trade publication Women’s Wear Daily, but the campaign could easily have doubled as a big consumer effort (which publisher Jane Pratt, unfortunately, didn’t have the money for).
Luckily for you, I scanned almost all of them, because they’re now hard-to-find internet collectors items.
The marketing positioning was sly: the first ad’s (the only one I didn’t scan, dammit) headline was:
She’s read Kafka.
She’s memorized Zoolander.
A week later, the above dichotomous execution ran.
And the two month media buy was off and running.
3. Now, If she could burp Zoolander and tell filthy Kafka jokes, then I’d be a Jane man.
4. Sassy Jane wanted it — and often got it — both ways.
5. Also: She abhors her ass; she owns 100 pairs of jeans. She doesn’t like to drive; she owns 3 cars. She hates hangovers; she drinks a bottle of Pinot a night.
6. “Oh Jane You’re Playing A Game Called Hard To Get By Its Real Name…”
I originally did these posts on copyranter as it I was dating the elusive Jane, so this was our seventh date. This is what I wrote for this ad:
I had, like, HAD it with Jane’s Sybilian chit-chat. There we were last night, dining at Nobu on the ad agency’s dime (hey, it was research). She’s talking to the model at the next table in Russian, ignoring her Monkfish Pate, when it hits me: dichotomous does not, like, equal interesting. After dinner, I edged her back to my place, with the promise that I owned Zoolander, and to meet my cat Kafka (real name Zippy the Pinhead). I poured some old port and pretended to look for the DVD. She was perusing my bookcase and noticed my copy of “The Brothers Karamasov” (which I had meticulously mangled to make it look used). Cut to sofa.
Anyway: What wasn’t Jane?
She’s was Lioness. She was Kitten.
She was Virgin. She was Slut.
She could Suck the Chrome off a Trailer Hitch. She Loved Eating Pink Cookies.
She was a Genius. She was an Idiot.
She was a Leader. She was a Lemming.
She had a Heart of Gold. She had a Heart of Stone.
She Loved her Parents. She Killed her Parents.
She’s Zen. She’s a Ten.
She’s Ginger. She’s Mary Ann.
She’s Everything. She’s Nothing.
She’s 8. She’s 80.
And then, just like that, in August of 2007 — POOF — she was DEAD, leaving a huge hole in the lives of many 18-34ish females.
Luckily, Jezebel came along just in the nick of time.
Miss Jane? Please read this:
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