I’m Not a Cat Lady

Oldsters Not Going Loco For Geo Loco, For Obvious Reasons

Today the New York Times has a report on how "the mainstream" has been slow to latch onto the booming new geolocation trend flaunted by the likes of Google, Foursquare, Gowalla, Shopkick and, most recently, Facebook. As reporters Claire Cain Miller and Jenna Wortham explain, GeoLoco is the Next Big Thing that's sputtering a little at takeoff:

Venture capitalists have poured $115 million into location start-ups since last year, according to the National Venture Capital Association, and companies like Starbucks and Gap have offered special deals to users of such services who visited their stores.

But for all the attention and money these apps and Web sites are getting, adoption has so far been largely confined to pockets of young, technically adept urbanites. Just 4 percent of Americans have tried location-based services, and 1 percent use them weekly, according to Forrester Research. Eighty percent of those who have tried them are men, and 70 percent are between 19 and 35.

I just have to wonder why anyone would think that this technology would appeal to anyone but a younger demo. Interviews with a couple of thirtysomethings reveal a general reluctance to broadcast where they are at all times stemming from common-sense concerns about safety and security that come with the aging-out-of-early-adulthood process. Some over-30s are drawn to the Shopkick model, which offers discounts when shoppers check into certain retail outlets, but as for the rest of it, why would anyone want to share the personal stuff? As one mother admits, “We go to playtime, the park and the grocery store. My life isn’t exciting enough to broadcast where I am and what I do.” 

It's that simple, really. When you're in your teens and your twenties, your social calendar is full. You're running around with loads of friends, hopping from one party/bar/restaurant/club/concert/dodgeball game/what-have-you to the next. The male-to-female ratio I can't explain—maybe girls are less nerdy about this stuff? More concerned about stalkers? More partial to text?—but as for the age disparity, come on already! Once you get to a certain point in your life, you have other things to worry about besides appointing yourself the Mayor of your local Dew Drop Inn. Like, if you're lucky, a job. And, luckier still, a significant other. And then there are kids. Even if you don't have them, your friends—the same ones you used to run around with, bar- and club- and party-hopping every night of the week when you were in your late teens and early twenties—definitely do. You now have to book these friends weeks in advance just to commit to a babysitter and meet you for an early-bird special. It's sad but true: Your social circle dwindles as you leave your twenties. You don't need to check in to find out where all your friends are—you're not hanging out together like you used to, you are all no longer so spontaneous, and when you do get together, it's usually the result of a plan.

But of course the Times has to turn this into yet another piece about how Old People Just Don't Get Newfangled Technology. "Location services are catching on more quickly with young people, who have grown up posting personal information online," they state. And then they quote some idiot who says, "The magic age is people born after 1981. That’s the cut-off for us where we see a big change in privacy settings and user acceptance.”

No, fella. People born after 1981 are under 30. They're the only ones a location service like Foursquare or Gowalla would appeal to. Has nothing to do with growing up with both thumbs glued to a glassy iPhone screen. Does anyone honestly think that once today's under-30s grow up, get married and start having kids that they'll still obsessively check in to see if any of their friends are at the day care center dropping off the  little'uns, or at the Home Depot? My guess is that by the time today's Geo-Loco enthusiasts have reached that point, Geo-Loco as we know it now will be as hot as Friendster.

The Teenagers Have Spoken: Twitter Is for Tw@ts

I'm a great big slobbering fan of Choire Sicha and his brainchild, The Awl. Between his Twitter feed, his awesome Awl posts and his daily Awl emails, I can't get any work done: He keeps pointing to all these articles I have to drop everything to read and sites I need to explore and bookmark.

Like this post today about a 15-year-old Matthew Robson, a Morgan Stanely intern in the UK (yep, they start 'em  young over there, Oliver Twist–style), who wrote a memo that basically blew all the myths about teen media consumption clear out of the Atlantic.

Among his observations:

• Most teenagers watch television, but usually there are points in the year where they watch more than average.

• Most teenagers are heavily active on a combination of social networking sites. Facebook is the most common, with nearly everyone with an internet connection registered and visiting >4 times a week. Facebook is popular as one can interact with friends on a wide scale. On the other hand, teenagers do not use twitter. Most have signed up to the service, but then just leave it as they realise that they are not going to update it (mostly because texting twitter uses up credit, and they would rather text friends with that credit). In addition, they realise that no one is viewing their profile, so their 'tweets' are pointless.

• Most teenagers enjoy and support viral marketing, as often it creates humorous and interesting content. Teenagers see adverts on websites (pop ups, banner ads) as extremely annoying and pointless, as they have never paid any attention to them and they are portrayed in such a negative light that no one follows them.

Predictably, mediaworld has gone nuts over this. Even better, Matthew's report prompted two he-said, she-said responses that pooh-poohed one or two things, which are equally illuminating—and pretty damn hilarious.

Like this:

...any teenager could tell you that paying for things is unpopular and Facebook has infinite importance over Twitter. After all, the only people that use Twitter are celebrities with nothing else to do and bored old people who think they're connecting with the younger generation. Does anyone care that Miley Cyrus is "eatin' an apple".

And this:

Our generation has become near-on obsessed with soaps ranging from the sickeningly American lives of those in The Hills to the gritty social problems discussed in Skins, girls and boys alike.

British teens are obsessed with our sickeningly American lives! Bless their worn sooty socks.

This, however, is the most insightful perspective on news-consumption habits of any generation I've seen yet:

Robson seems to feel that all teenagers read freesheets. However, he seems to have forgotten that these are only available to those living in towns and cities, leaving the majority of teenagers forced to get their news fix either from the school library, a self bought paper (which, I must agree, are usually tabloids) or may catch the front page story when their parents are reading it. Reading a quality newspaper seems to be a case of nurture and varies with each family's political persuasion and perception of the mass media, rather than be a case of not having the time to do so.

None of these pronouncements is exactly earth-shattering, of course. But with isn't it refreshing to hear them from actual members of this obsessively analyzed demographic for a change?

The Guardian: How Teenagers Consume Media: The report that shook the City

The Guardian: Teenage Media Habits: Was the whiz-kid correct?

The Awl: Morgan Stanley Intern Is Voice of His Generation

I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here, Day 4: Janice the Crazy Old Aunt

 

Well, ratings were down a whopping 43 percent last night, but there was some basketball game or other on ABC so apparently it doesn’t really count. Moving on: We open with a preview of the big Heidi and Spencer Dilemma. LouDi self-importantly confessionals, “I didn’t want to send a message that you can quit and quit and quit, act like a jerk and be given a second chance.” Isn’t it, like, a fourth chance at this point? Ange threatens to leave if they come back. Then, we have the requisite recap of last night.

And finally: Hi there, it’s Myleene in a bright yellow frock and Damien in a teal shirt. “Green’s your color,” she flirts. They remind us that either J-Dick, Frangie or Torrie are out tonight. They also remind us that the Wastrels want to come back, in case we weren’t paying attention 30 seconds ago. We flash back to footage we’ve seen a dozen times already of the two of them lying through their teeth about how they and the devil got it so wrong last time and how repentant they are. At this point it’s transparent that network strings are being pulled to keep them on the show—Heidi’s in all the promos  dangling from a harness in her stilettos, can’t waste those!—plus, MTV will be airing a marathon of all the episodes so far this Sunday. Aha. Deals have been made, yo. This is business.

The campmates deliberate. J-Dick tells us she wants them back because she thinks she’s the only person in the universe who could reform Spencer. We already knew she was delusional, but really. “They were horrible people,” argues Ange. “They’re not horrible people, they just made some horrible decisions while they were here,” rationalizes Sangie, who’s gone tribal with some black markings on his cheeks. Long Tall points out that Heidi is a good competitor and the ladies need all the help they can get. Daniel the Papa Bear suggests that they let them back in but set “boundaries.” LouDi argues there’s no point in that because Spencer has already declared he's The Villain. Frange points out—quite rightly!—that it’s unfair to the others: “They’re taking up space from people who really wanted to be here, who’ve been working from Day One, Minute One.” “It’s been 2 days,” LouDi pipes up. “Those two days have been our days in the jungle,” argues Frange. Wait a minute. According to my calendar, we’re at Day 4. What’s going on here?

Long Tall tells us he likes Spencer because he reminds him of P Diddy. Way to name drop. And besides, that’s a good thing?

Next, we find out that all the girls have a crush on Papa Bear. He’s helpful with the chores. While washing the dishes, he and Bebe have a little bitch about Torrie’s and J-Dick’s nonexistent work ethic. Cut to J-Dick lying provocatively on her side making cow eyes at Papa Bear. She asks him if he’s bored. “I’m never bored, he says. J-Dick’s all, Omigod, me too! Flutter flutter. The irony flies over her head.

Flashback to Papa Bear’s surprise arrival and everybody going ooooooh! We just saw this footage in the opening recap! Do we really need to go over it again? Clearly, the producers figure that Kids Today are watching this show while twittering and facebooking and sexting and ipoding and probably getting high and stoned all at the same time, so they have to keep going back over every little detail.

Now we get a montage of J-Dick hocking loogies all over camp. “Something is definitely dying inside of Janice’s chest…” begins Ange, “…and I think it’s something from the Studio 54 days,” finishes Frange. These two kill me. We are treated to scene after scene of J-Dick hoisting up the material and letting it fly. It is horrible. Sweet Torrie feels sorry for her because she’s sick and “if she needs to get it out, she needs to get it out,” but when she dares to broach the subject, J-Dick chews off her head:  “We’re camping, Torrie! That’s what people do when they camp!” Frange isn’t buying it, telling us that even natives of the rain forest would say “no, mmmm-mmm, you got to go over there.” She wants to build some Section 8 housing for J-Dick and her grossness. Ha!

Oh my eyes! Dawg saunters into camp completely shirtless, a walking sack of oatmeal. It’s time for the next food challenge. Papa Bear and Long Tall go in against Bebe and Torrie. They line up for the rules. I always thought Daniel Baldwin was tall, but standing next to Long Tall he looks about as stately as Gimli the Middle-earth Dwarf. The trial involves crawling through a swamp underneath a bamboo grid and retrieving some spongy puzzle pieces. It’s pretty boring so they recap the hell out of it while it’s happening. Instant recap! For all you brain-challenged viewers at home.

Back at camp Long Tall congratulates himself for using the smack talk and winning again. He declares that “Patti and Torrie are gamers, you can just send the other three home.” Back to Damien and Myleen, who invite us to vote for one man and one woman to go head to head in a food trial next week. “Pick wisely, the girls need to eat, come on the sisterhood!” Myleene cheers. Nice thought, Myleene, but dream on. We’re given a demonstration of the trial, a Houdini number involving a water tank with locks and chains and–yes!—slimy critters. We can’t see who the demonstration model is in there but it looks like J-Dick. Has this already been recorded? Did she volunteer earlier to do a walk through? Damn I'm confused.

Back at camp, oh no, there’s a jungle thief. Ange can’t find her shower kit with her hair pick in it. God knows you don’t want to deprive a sister of her pick. She finds it in J-Dick’s pack. She knew it. “Yep, bitch got my shit.” The whole camp is up in arms, everybody’s missing something. Torrie’s lost hair ties, a pair of underwear  and her towel. Cut to J-Dick in the shower, oblivious, washing her weave and hair. Then, Long Tall: Who took my pillow? Cut to J-Dick sleeping, oblivious, on Long Tall’s pillow. He ain’t happy. “People’s skin is just getting thinner and thinner and thinner,” Frange explains, “and Janice is just starting to pop some people.”

Bebe sits Long Tall down to impart some worldly advice. She tells him her husband ran against a woman like J-Dick once. Here’s what you have to do with a woman like that: Roll your eyes and call her a crazy old aunt. Crazy Old Aunt Janice. Sounds like good politics to me!

Now, a weepy montage. All four women on the chopping block tell us one by one how much they love it there, how much they’ve learned about themselves, and how they’ve all gotten so close over these two jungle days. A piano plinky-plonks in the background. Everybody gets farklempt.

We’re live. Myleene and Damien head into camp with the results. American has voted. But first: LouDi, which woman do you think should leave? None of them, says LouDi, because we’re family and “I’m wacky Uncle Lou.” Nice self-image there, Lou. Sangie tells us that he’s been in the jungle” a very very very long time, so this is just an extension of my life.” Nobody asks him to elaborate on this bizarre statement, we just move right along. Bebe keeps tugging on her ear like Carol Burnett every time the camera’s on her. Time for the results. J-Dick announces, for no apparent reason, “I’ve gone insane.” Thanks for clarifying. Then she’s told she’s safe. “Oh maaaan!” Frange is safe. Torrie and Ange are not.

We go back to the last dinner from the night before. The continuity of this show is, as Long Tall would say, wack. They discuss the Wastrels again and talk about how they’ve all bonded like a family. Long Tall breaks it down for us: Lou’s the oldest brother, Daniel’s the old uncle. Janice is the loopy auntie, Sanjaya’s still young (so what is he, cousin? nephew?),  Frangela are the funny aunties from the other side of the family, Patti is the mother, he’s the cook, Torrie’s the bombshell, and Dawg is the white hip-hop kid. You know, because we all have one.

Frange guess that it’s going to be one of them who gets eliminated. A tree frog is pelted by a raindrop. The public has decided that the very first celebrity to leave the jungle is: Ange. Bye Ange! We hardly knew ye. J-Dick bellows: “No! No! No!” Was she hoping it would be Torrie? We’re treated to another demo of the Houdini challenge and invited to text our picks. As they read the text numbers out, Janice rasps, “Not Janice!” I pick up my phone and text: Janice.

photo courtesy of NBC

Shocker: Kids Love Watching Good Old-Fashioned TV

You know how you're always hearing from media analyzers and pundits that TV is dead because nobody sits and watches it like people did in the olden days anymore, but streams on their computers or iPhones—especially The Kids? Guess what? Not true.

Hannah Montana, Jonas, iCarly, Drake & Josh and Zoey 101 are among the top shows on cable, they're often the most-watched shows in all of broadcast in their time slot, and they're No. 1 among a demo that includes ages 6 to 11 and 9 to 14. The Disney channel is the No. 1 choice for tweens. But here's what's really interesting. The writers on these shows are veterans of old-school sitcoms like Roseanne, The Jeffersons and The Facts of Life. And these shows all stick to the tried-and-true multi-camera/laughtrack formula made popular by golden-age-era TV shows like I Love Lucy and The Honeymooners.

I heard this report on NPR's All Things Considered tonight, and it totally stopped me in my tracks. The writers on these shows model them on those they consider the classics: Taxi, Bewitched, The Brady Bunch, Cheers, Dif'frent Strokes, et al. In an episode called "I Love Sushi," Drake and Josh do an updated version of the old Lucy-and-Ethel-at-the-chocolate-factory gag. But with sushi. And it killed. Still funny after 50 years.

At a time when everyone is panicking about how to keep up with the new-fangled whims of Kids Today—their wee brains wired so very differently from their parents, what with all that growing up with computers and cellphones and iPods and whatnot—here they are, perfectly happy with cheesy old-fashioned TV shows just like the ones their great-grandparents watched. Written by people who are considered too old to hire for primetime broadcast and cable shows.

Deliciously ironic, don'tcha think?

Old-School Sitcoms Find Fans Among a Younger Set

Fashion's Groundhog Day

If shoulder pads are seriously back in style, then the fashion industry needs to retire. Here we are, 10 years into the new millennium, and fashion is recycling itself at such lightning speed, soon everyone will be wearing Ugg Boots again. Oh wait. They never stopped, did they?

I'm no fashion historian, but I do know that around this time last millennium, fashion elements were being introduced for the very first time, like corsetless dresses, the bias cut and casual skirts. These were not simply old looks rehashed for a generation that was too young to remember them the first time around: They were experimental, revolutionary innovations. Throughout the decade, firsts galore: trousers, separates, knits, jeans, miniskirts, bikinis, the little black dress, minimalist shapes, the bra.

We've had clever twists on past styles, like Halston's revival of 30s and 40s glamour for the 70s disco era, or Vivienne Westwood's wildly witty, ironic takes on British classics dating back to the 17th century. But what's happening now is just straight-up reproduction. Back in the 80s, the shoulder-pad silhouette was an obvious homage to the militaristic shapes of the 40s: Women were back in the workplace after a brief fling during World War II. What's the latest incarnation, a nod to Dynasty? If so, why? The bejewelled, pointy shoulder was never a cool look. Why try to pass it off as hip or edgy now? And don't tell me it's ironic. Not when a Kardashian is wearing it. Same goes for the dreaded harem pants with the floor-sweeping crotch, which desperate designers have been trying to revive since 2007. Okay when swanning around the Studio 54 dancefloor with cocaine-packed nostrils; a joke when MC Hammer wore 'em; an even bigger joke now, I don't care how louche and model-skinny you are. Even worse: harem shorts. Just throw on a pair of Snuggies, no one will notice the difference. Superfluously, New York magazine asks, Are You Excited About Harem Pants, or Just Plain Terrified? The answer: Neither. Anyone who reads New York is too old for these, end of story.

The pouf skirt—been there, several times actually, in the 80s, 90s and again in 2003–5. The 80s pirate boot—I think it's been five years now. The gladiator sandal—three summers and still going strong! The Ray-Ban Wayfarer: The hepcat's choice in the 50s turned glamorous in the 60s turned rock-star cool in the late 70s/early 80s turned frat favorite by 1983 thanks to Tom Cruise in Risky Business, and now—in candy colors and stripes and plaid, oversized and undersized—as boring and ubiquitous as a Gossip Girl. Not clever. Not edgy. Not original. Just sad.

It must be crap to be in your teens or early 20s now, when the clothes being sent down the runway were all worn by your mom. Whatever they try to do to be stylish or edgy has been done and done and done some more. Their fashion choices are sloppy thirds and fourths and fifths at this point. They'll never know what it feels like to wear a brand-new look that's never been seen before. The upside? Hmm. I guess it's super-hip to recycle.