Subaru gays
Luxury Gonzo! By Adam Hay-Nicholls
I was recently loaned the latest Subaru Forester to test drive, and I enjoyed its sturdiness, its space and the frugality of its 2.0 hybrid engine. But as my mileage progressed over the course of a week’s bombing around the help roads of North Norfolk, I started to own a hankering for a nose ring, a tattoo of interlocking female glyphs, and to dye my hair pink and navy and wear dungarees. I put on a KD Lang playlist, drove dwelling, and watched Angelina Jolie in Gia.
Was the Subaru turning me – a bloke, with no extraordinary pronouns – into a lesbian?
Let me explain.
In the 1990s, Subaru launched a calculated and groundbreaking advertising campaign on the US market. Rather than attempt to compete with their bigger rivals (Ford, Toyota etc) over the similar white bread suburban demographic, the Japanese company went after niche groups. Subaru built respectable but drab cars, yet they had a USP; their cars were all-wheel-drive, and the five groups that were identified as willing to pay a premium for AWD were teachers, healthcare professionals, IT professionals, outdoorsy types… and lesbians.
Lesbians – ideally outdoorsy lesbians, who perhaps worked
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Not everyone bursts out of the closet. Some take their occasion, send subtle signals, quiz the waters, and — when they feel they’re ready — jump to the head of the parade.
That’s what Subaru did.
In the early ’90s, Subaru began winking at woman loving woman car buyers. The messages were coded so carefully that they would move over a straight person’s head. But lesbians, and the LGBTQ community as a whole, knew exactly what was going on.
It was like sneaking a game of footsie under the dinner table.
This is part of my Gayskool project:
A new LGBTQ-themed post every day for Pride month.
Subtext Is Everything
Today, the clues will appear obvious, even to many straight people. At the time, though, they were cleverly hidden in plain sight.
Here are a rare examples.
She Was a Quick Machine, She Kept Her Motor Clean, She Was the Best Damn Female That I Ever Seen
First, a quick ad that, depending on your show of view, either pokes fun at or perpetuates lesbian stereotypes.
You’re On The Right Track Baby …
While everyone was embroiled in the nature vs. nurture debate, Subaru coopted one of the key talking points to say four-wheel drive was sta
I was recently lent the latest Subaru Forester to check drive, and I enjoyed its sturdiness, its space and the frugality of its 2.0 hybrid engine. But as my mileage progressed over the course of a week’s bombing around the back roads of north Norfolk, I started to possess a hankering for a nose call, a tattoo of interlocking female glyphs, and to dye my hair pink and blue and wear dungarees. I put on a k.d. lang playlist, drove home, and watched Angelina Jolie in Gia. Was the Subaru turning me – a bloke, with no unusual pronouns – into a lesbian?
Let me explain. In the 1990s, Subaru launched a calculated and groundbreaking advertising campaign on the US market. Rather than try to compete with their bigger rivals (Ford, Toyota etc) over the same white-bread suburban demographic, the Japanese company went after niche groups. Subaru built respectable but drab cars, yet they had a USP: their cars were all-wheel-drive, and the five groups that were identified as willing to pay a premium for AWD were teachers, healthcare professionals, IT professionals, outdoorsy types – and lesbians.
Lesbians – ideally outdoorsy lesbians, who perhaps worked in computers, medicine or education – found
ow do you advertise a car that journalists describe as “sturdy, if drab”?
That was the scrutinize faced by Subaru of America executives in the 1990s. After the company's attempts to reinvigorate sales — by releasing its first luxury car and hiring a hip ad agency to introduce it to the public — failed, it changed its approach. Rather than fight larger car companies over the same demographic of white, 18- to 35-year-olds living in the suburbs, executives decided to market their cars to niche groups — such as outdoorsy types who liked that Subarus could handle dirt roads.
In the 1990s, Subaru's unique selling point was that the company increasingly made all-wheel operate standard on all its cars. When the company's marketers went searching for people willing to pay a premium for all-wheel steer, they identified four core groups who were responsible for half of the company's American sales: teachers and educators, health-care professionals, IT professionals, and outdoorsy types.
Then they discovered a fifth: lesbians. “When we did the research, we found pockets of the country favor Northampton, Massachusetts, and Portland, Oregon, where the head of the household would be a solo per
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How an Ad Campaign Made Lesbians Tumble in Love with Subaru
Subaru’s marketing strategy had just died in a fit of irony.
It was the mid 1990s, and sales of Subaru cars were in decline. To contrary the company’s fortunes, Subaru of America had created its first luxury car—even though the small automaker was known for plain but dependable cars—and hired a trendy advertising agency to introduce it to the public.
The new approach had fallen flat when the ad men took irony too far: One ad touted the brand-new sports car’s top speed of 140 MPH, then asked, “How important is that, with extended urban gridlock, gas at $1.38 a gallon and highways full of patrolmen?”
After firing the hip ad agency, Subaru of America changed its approach. Rather than compete directly with Ford, Toyota, and other carmakers that dwarfed Subaru in size, executives decided to return to its ancient focus on marketing Subaru cars to niche groups—like outdoorsy types who liked that Subaru cars could handle dirt roads.
This look for for niche groups led Subaru to the 3rd rail of marketing: They discovered that lesbians loved their cars. Lesbians liked their dependability and size, and even the na