I have a weird hobby. When I’m waiting at the grocery store, or the pharmacy, or any retail establishment where the checkout lines are festooned with magazines, I like to pick them up and go hunting. Not for interesting articles on how I, too, can lose 50lbs by eating only chocolate, or pictures of the latest explosive Hollywood divorce. I’m looking for ads. Specifically, adds with nice, dense blocks of copy text.
Now, I’m not a shopper, or a big spender. I’m not even the target audience for most of the ads I read. I am a different beast all together, for I am a copy coinsure. Take, for instance, a two page spread for Revlon. An impossibly beautiful woman tosses her impossibly glossy hair across the fold, her eyes alight with the promise that all this bounty could be mine if only I would stop being such a cheapskate who buys store brands.