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The sexy Grimace bus in low res after the photographer spent too long shaking their head at it
The sexy Grimace bus in low res after the photographer spent too long shaking their head at it

SocietyOctober 29, 2024

I hate the sexy Grimace bus

The sexy Grimace bus in low res after the photographer spent too long shaking their head at it
The sexy Grimace bus in low res after the photographer spent too long shaking their head at it

It’s not just a bad ad, it’s a symbol of everything rotten in our lives.

Twice a week, my partner and I do a nice thing together in the morning. We leave home early and walk 10 minutes to our favourite coffee spot, where we sit on the bench outside with our coffees and watch as people walk, scoot, bike, drive and bus to work down the main road. It’s a peaceful, fun activity before a busy day, and we love to make silly little jokes about whatever’s happening on the street that morning.

Last week we were sitting outside the coffee place, enjoying our regular order, when the serenity of our morning ritual was shattered in the most obnoxious, confronting and uncomfortable manner.

It was the sexy Grimace bus.

I despise the sexy Grimace bus, particularly the fact that the adjective I must use to describe it is “sexy”.

If you are reading this in New Zealand then you are familiar with Grimace. There’s no way for you to not be familiar with the canonical McDonald’s mascot of indeterminate species. But more recently, Grimace has been plastered all over the country on bus stops, billboards and the McDonald’s app.

It’s advertising, I know this. And I know that there’s no such thing as bad publicity so by writing this article I am simply adding to the omnipresence of Grimace in Aotearoa. But I have to say something, lest the powers that be are left believing that Grimace reclining seductively and using African American slang and inexplicably not knowing how to spell is a good advertising approach.

[Here is where one would typically put a photo of the bad ads but that is simply more ads so this space has been intentionally left blank.]

Let me describe to you what we saw that fateful morning:

  • A double-decker Auckland Transport bus
  • Wrapped in sticker advertising (sadly common now but hoo boy are they an eyesore)
  • The bus, usually dark blue, is entirely purple
  • On the side of the bus is Grimace – also purple, species unknown – lying on his side, hand on hip in a classic sexy pose
  • In yellow McDonald’s writing are the words “Grim is bussin'”. Bussin’ is AAVE (African American Vernacular English) meaning something is really good
  • For some reason, Grimace has a thigh gap
  • On the back of the bus is Grimace’s face in close up
  • In yellow writing: “OhhhHh gOooOoody”

I hate it so much. It gives me the shivers every time I see it, which is often because the buses are everywhere. Yesterday I had to catch the sexy Grimace bus to get home and when I looked out the window I was observing Auckland through the perfect triangle of Grimace’s thigh gap.

The massive campaign is for the Grimace shake, a thick shake with a flavour profile allegedly as indeterminate as Grimace himself. The shake is already a viral commodity around the world, and the ad campaign would’ve worked just as well if they’d simply written “Grimace shake now available” in plain text on every bus and billboard.

Which leads to perhaps the real reason I hate the sexy Grimace bus. It is the purest example of the smoke and mirrors industry that is advertising. Every day, thousands of people are paid sooOooOo much money to come up with “Grim is bussin'” and “new whip, not mad”. Hundreds of thousands of dollars spent on a campaign for a product that has been given free advertising the world over thanks to social media. This was not a campaign that required education, information relay or brand awareness with a creative, clever delivery. It was just another product from one of the biggest fast food companies in the world that needed some ads in New Zealand. And so we get Grim is bussin’, and some nonsense misspelt text (because I guess Grimace is illiterate? Or is it because he has no fingers?) on our public transport and buildings.

McDonald’s has been on a big Grimace campaign since last year. They made him memeable, and simple-minded. He was just a weird blob happy to be there. And the internet lapped it up. Somehow Grimace became a queer icon. The purple blob mascot of a fast food company became a queer icon. I’m being radicalised as I type. (Yes, I have worn my KFC beanie in public so consider this growth on my part.)

We used to take pride in our capitalism. Brand campaigns were either beautifully executed, clever, strange or at least compelling enough to intrigue people. And when they weren’t, they just stated the obvious: “you can buy this now”. But billion-dollar companies know they don’t need to work that hard any more. It’s less about catching the eye of consumers and more about taking up as much space in people’s eyeline (and brain) as possible. So now they’re just taking the piss.

And we in the media are at least partially to blame. I might be raging against the terrible bus but media attention is all part of the game. We’ve written about ads before, positively and negatively, but until now I’ve never felt personally insulted or depressed by their lack of effort or thought. Have you ever wondered why you can read a news website and learn in a news article that Air New Zealand is having a sale? Why would brands need to bother thinking about creative and clever marketing when there’s free media like that up for grabs? We all live in the attention economy and the big companies are always winning.

Maybe you’re thinking “welcome to being older, Mad, these things aren’t for you any more, just ignore them”. It seems the kids love the Grimace shake and love the campaign. It’s the kids, after all, who know what bussin’ means. And if that’s the case, which it probably is, then the reality is even bleaker than a shit ad.

Despite New Zealand having the second-highest childhood obesity rate in the OECD, and McDonald’s likely contributing not insignificantly to that statistic, the sexy Grimace bus is not for me or any other consumer with a fully formed prefrontal cortex. It’s not for the people who maybe, though not often, can ignore the seeping rot that is advertising in their lives.

No, the sexy Grimace bus is for the children.

A depressing insult to the injury that is my ruined morning coffee.

Keep going!
a somewhat chaotic collection of polaroid type framed photos on a bright blue background, of a colourfully decorated warehouse door, a dragon on the ceiling, and shelves of stuff, with some sparkles, stars and hot glue guns to make it seem full of possibility
A colourful roller door, elaborate drago, and lots of nooks and crannies filled with supplies. Image/photos: Shanti Mathias

SocietyOctober 29, 2024

Trash or sculpture? This community store wants to change how you see rubbish

a somewhat chaotic collection of polaroid type framed photos on a bright blue background, of a colourfully decorated warehouse door, a dragon on the ceiling, and shelves of stuff, with some sparkles, stars and hot glue guns to make it seem full of possibility
A colourful roller door, elaborate drago, and lots of nooks and crannies filled with supplies. Image/photos: Shanti Mathias

Shanti Mathias visits Christchurch institution Creative Junk, where cardboard tubes and curtains can find new lives as artwork made by kids and adults alike.

When I walk into Creative Junk, I don’t know where to look first. Should I examine the dragon hanging from the ceiling? An intriguing aisle filled with empty containers, from Milo tins to CD cases? The piles of old craft books? Variously sized cardboard tubes?

Every niche in this dusty-smelling warehouse, in the industrial area of Addington in central Christchurch, is packed with stuff. And it’s nearly all recycled: Creative Junk is a rejoinder to the idea that craft and art are expensive hobbies to be perused in upscale fabric stores and art shops. Instead, this 43-year-old community institution gathers unwanted supplies, mostly from businesses but also from the general public, and sorts them to find a new life in great art. Sometimes that art is hats or CD sculptures made by preschoolers; other times, it’s crafted by adults and displayed in artist studios.

Christine Gayton, a middle aged woman with dyed red hair and a bright blue jacket smiles at the camera with a delightful chaos of cardboard tubes, a mannequin witch, and a giant dinosaur behind her
Christine Gayton has worked at Creative Junk for nearly two decades (Image: Shanti Mathias)

“It started off about cost effectiveness,” says Christine Gayton, who has been Creative Junk’s manager for the last 20 years. “People wanted a cheaper way to get resources for early childhood centres.” They started knocking on the doors of local businesses, keen for cardboard, fabric, paper, labels – anything destined for the dump that could be used by kids to make and play. A garage filled up, then a prefab; 16 years ago, Creative Junk moved to its current location in Addington. “We still don’t have enough space!” Gayton says. 

Gayton’s office is cluttered with decades of making; a milk-bottle-top sculpture is draped over a noticeboard, and a Christmas tree ornament made from a cone that held yarn is perched on the windowsill. As we talk, regular volunteers pop in, looking for tasks. “There’s lots of dealing with different personalities,” she says.

A young man has been volunteering for the last nine years, just for two hours a week; he started while still at school, which disabled young people can attend until age 21. After leaving school, he’s kept coming in, helping to sort through the chaos of the warehouse so it stays usable. Gayton has set another volunteer, who has autism, up with some cardboard boxes to unfold; a predictable task that he likes. Yet another volunteer, an older retired woman, comes in several days a week. “It’s all the little bits that help, that keep things functioning.” Creative Junk has also worked with MSD to pay young people needing work experience – most of whom were able to find full time jobs afterwards, which Gayton is proud of. 

a shelf of empty jars and tins in various sizes, neatly labelled
Keeping items organised and labelled is key to actually being able to reuse the “junk” for creative purpose. (Image: Shanti Mathias)

Instead of pricing items individually, the cost is set by volume, with a small bag costing $13 and a large bag $16. Members, who might be teachers or families, get cheaper prices. “At a lot of craft stores, things can be quite expensive, even if you just want a few things,” Gayton says. “But here it’s quite different – we do have some of the same things as Spotlight, because people bring it in, but we get different kinds of stuff as well.”

Like what? Well, an electric manufacturing group used to give them circular grey foam stickers, manufacturing offcuts. “Kids loved that, they love anything that’s sticky – and, oddly, anything that’s a circle.” The supply has ceased since the company moved overseas, but the desire for circles can be satiated with the spheres from roll on deodorant. Estate sales and downsizing elderly people have been a rich trove, too. Gayton laughs, remembering a community member who sent in personal effects when moving to a smaller unit, hoping they would be useful: first her dentures, then her late husband’s artificial hip. “That was definitely one of the most unusual things I’ve seen, I thought ‘what can we do with this?’” 

But almost always, there is something you can do with it. “Creative Junk was such a valuable place to gather corrugated card, shoe boxes, fun fur, leather, different textured resources and wallpapers, sound objects – the list was never-ending,” says Gail Carson, who developed resources for blind and low-vision education for years, like tactile books. Now retired, she volunteers at Creative Junk to help keep things tidy and organised.

a corkboard with posters showing how corks can become a desplay lamp, milk bottles can become a counting game and other ideas for reusing everyday rubbish
Some of the ideas for reusing ‘rubbish’ Creative Junk promotes (Image: Shanti Mathias)

The unusual variety of supplies stocked at the Creative Junk warehouse is great for creativity, Gayton finds. “Adults sometimes overthink things – but you put stuff in front of kids, and they will have the answers. It’s creative play.” She loves seeing kids’ eyes light up as they see a recycled clock they’ve decorated start ticking again, or switch on a lamp they’ve covered in shiny CDs. 

But adults find great potential in the aisles of paper and fabric too. Gayton recently attended  the World of Wearable Arts show in Wellington, and was stoked to see a sculpture made out of curtain tape, transformed into structured wings by artist Donna Allfrey. Allfrey heard of Creative Junk 35 years ago, when her kids were little. In 2009 she decided to start submitting creations to WoW. “From cricket pads to beading, I’ve used Creative Junk for the majority of materials for my creations,” she says. The curtain tape creation is her favourite so far.

“It was so brilliant – it could have been in landfill but now it’s on the World of Wearable Arts stage,” Gayton says. I look at the photo on her phone, zoomed in to where the curtain hooks would fit, and feel astonished: when I walked past the row of somewhat-faded curtains earlier, I couldn’t imagine that they could become something so different to their original purpose. 

In some ways, the model doesn’t seem that scalable; as much as I can imagine a group of kids going wild with hot glue guns and jam jar lids and sparkles, will these objects eventually return to the landfill? “Maybe it’s going to the dump either way,” Gayton says; this very point has been an issue in funding applications in the past. “People will come in and use it for a few years, but at least it was used in the meantime.”

There’s just too much rubbish to make reusing stuff a single solution to the prevalence of trash. Still, there is interest from elsewhere: Junky Monkeys in Auckland promotes play with secondhand loose items, and a similar, smaller initiative has started on the North Shore in Auckland. Supported by “drips and drabs” of community funding – mostly from the Rātā Foundation and gambling trusts – Gayton has been delighted seeing parents and even grandparents come into Creative Junk, having played with and made things from the centre when they were younger. She loves seeing people wandering mesmerised through the warehouse, discovering the potential in the shelves of eclectic, useful items. “It’s trying to invite that shift in attitude of looking at something not as trash, but as possibilities.”

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