In the mornings on my way to Plato coffee in Bryanston, where I sit and write and people-watch before heading to work, I’m confronted with various advertising campaigns, most of which take the form of ads plastered to street lamp poles (not to be confused with Polish Poles or the North Pole).
I was intrigued to see a campaign punting some or other adult shop, the name of which ends in -ique, cos it reminded me of the million times I’ve seen the suffix, -ique, applied to business names, and the perception the owners of these businesses must think this suffix creates.
Do they think adding the suffix, -ique, makes a business sound sexier, more desirable?
I suppose if you want people to believe your hair and nail business is the best option for them, you’d want to create the perception that you’re going to make them sexier; at the very least, in the case where the person’s sell-by date is long gone, make them feel more sexy, which is kind of like telling a baboon it can most definitely look like that handsome horse frolicking on the planes if only it’ll don this mane that’s now available at 50 percent less for a limited time.
So you chuck an -ique at the end of your business name and et voila, you’ve got the secret sauce that turns your clients from trolls into God’s gift to the opposite sex.
Which made me wonder…
Is Lush Yummy sexy enough, or should we change the name?
What about, Lush Yummique, followed by a French tagline to really work in that sexy sauce?
Create a sultry black and white billboard ad of a closeup of a gorgeous woman, her face covered in nut butter. The lips must be luscious, full-coloured crimson lips.
(Or purple lips, but that could be misconstrued as our nut butter causing asphyxia.)
We can take it a step further…
Start an online video ad campaign featuring a man running between old pillars in some ancient ruin in a foreign city, pursuing a woman who keeps eluding him.
In the background is a haunting Ennio Morricone melody, to emphasise the desire of the Desperado totally hot for the woman, who’s running away from him, all the while giggling, throwing furtive glances into camera close-ups, a jar of nut butter in each hand.
He finally catches her, and the camera zooms in on him holding her from behind, licking nut butter off her brow, or from her nose, one of her hands working nut butter into his hair.
Cue the sultry female voice murmuring a French line, followed by the same voice switching to English, but keeping the French accent.
Notre beurre de noix, c’est le derrière du singe.
Lush Yummique, le noot bootreh for le sexy peepool.
I think this could work really well.
Not only is our nut butter nutritious, it also appeals to everyone wishing to be more sexy.
Will it make you more sexy, though?
Um… Uh… Well… See…
Any case, I think there are a number of big brands that should add an -ique to their names as well.
Coca Cola could become Coca Colique, the perfect drink for dealing with stomach cramps.
BMWique, which kind of sounds like what I feel when I think of a particular German make of vehicle. (In Afrikaans we’d call it, Blique Met Wiele.)
KFCique, which is what happens if you have too much of it.
The question for you, dear reader, is: do you want to be sexy?
Purchase Lush Yummique, the world’s sexiest nut butter, guaranteed to make you wonder whether using it will actually make you sexier, or just make your tongue feel like it’s tasting the sexiest nut butter ever.
Don’t smear Lush Yummique nut butter on your better half, though, unless your idea of a better half is the last half of a loaf of delicious Bekoor home made sourdough bread, in which case, smeer hom soos teer, pappie; smeer daai neutbottertjie soos teer. En koop meer.
I’ll leave you with another important question: did the parents of women with the name Monique actually want their child to be Mon, but realised they’d prolly find a husband quicker by adding an -ique?
Don’t let it keep you up at night, but do give it some thought.
Or not.
Whatever you do, buy our nut butter.