Earlier this week I was served a podcast advert for a Nivea face cream describing itself as ‘iconic’. On one level, it was remarkably effective. I’m still thinking about it three days later. Regrettably for Nivea, that’s because it might be the worst advert I’ve ever heard.

I have no problem with podcast advertising, as long as it’s vaguely relevant. No, I’m not going to go see Jack Whitehall on his new tour. No, I don’t need online therapy from Better Help (even though every podcast on the planet tells me I do). But I understand why these ads are being sent in my direction. I listen to football podcasts hosted by middle-aged white men. Doubtless a decent-sized contingent of this audience likes Jack Whitehall and badly needs professional psychological support.

And, speaking on behalf of my podcast-listening brethren, I can confirm that we also need face cream. A lot of it.

Like many men in their 40s, my face is slowly collapsing before my eyes. I spend most of my ad-consuming time (on the toilet or at 4am while unable to sleep) being fed Instagram scams advertising faux-scientific beauty products that all feature Brad Pitt. Fortunately, as I did not look like Brad Pitt when I was younger, I am yet to be hoodwinked into believing it’s achievable at an age where rogue hair is already appearing from every orifice at an alarming rate.

I can tolerate these ads because I know social media to be a cesspit, and it seems unfair to ask any better of the advertising. Podcast ads, however, must uphold higher standards. Nivea got the first part right – choosing an appropriate platform and channel to reach me. But then they utterly let themselves down with the creative – and the strategy underpinning it – by failing to recognise that people like me don’t want to look iconic. We want to look less shit.

And we certainly don’t want have our intelligence insulted by a cretinous salesperson attempting – and wholly failing – to sound down with the kids, while making the equally unconvincing case that we too could be down with the kids if only we’d buy a supermarket-sold skincare product.

I struggle to believe that actual humans use the word iconic to describe their face cream. If they do, it’s a crime against the English language. But if I’m wrong, and this is a thing, I cannot imagine that they are the sort of people that buy their face cream from Tesco.

Advertising has always been an easy target for mockery and ridicule. Bad advertising that attempts and fails to be down with the kids is an easy target for outright contempt. As are people that use phrases like ‘down with the kids’.

But seriously, Nivea. You should be leaning into the challenges of maintaining any sort of skincare regime when you wake up exhausted every day and grow a weekly beard because there is no longer enough time to shave. You should be leaning into the science of skincare, even though it’s bullshit, because it promises the possibility of recovery against all odds. You should be making a virtue of the fact that your product is sold in Tesco rather than bolting that information on as an afterthought. I’m absolutely the sort of person that would buy a skincare product from Tesco, because it’s basically the only shop I frequent.

Don’t advertise to my aspirations because I don’t have any. And don’t fundamentally misrepresent your products. Your audience may be time poor, but we aren’t stupid. This also goes for cleaning products. Don’t tell me that cleaning with your all-in-one floor and surface spray is like listening to smooth jazz, because it isn’t. It’s not true, we all know it’s not true, and besides, our priority is not to turn a mundane household chore into a transcendent experience. It is to make our kitchen, like our faces, look less shit.

Photo by Poko Skincare on Unsplash