NEWS .

"Awards" "Ceremony"

Inside the Philadelphia Advertising Club's ADDY awards


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Published: Mar 12, 2008

who are these people?

A gigantic stuffed beaver sporting a green cape makes an on-screen cameo to the sound of a synthesized accordion. It's officially after-hours at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, and the Philadelphia Advertising Club's 2008 ADDY awards ceremony is showcasing the year's finest in local advertising on a theater-size screen obstructing the museum's entrance. Afluria influenza vaccines, the Philadelphia Zoo's marsupial exhibit, Stupid Cupid dating service and an array of torsos from various plastic surgery and fitness centers are included in the sequence of colorful promos. Next to me, a twentysomething named Jason explains the art of observance. "To really be a part of advertisements," Jason explains, "you have to put yourself in the mind-set of the target audience."

I'm wondering about the intended audience of the beaver-superhero, and of the pinup chick sporting short-shorts, fishnets and a black eye, which follows. The string of random images melds into one splashy, discordant feature, set to the sounds of computerized instruments. This display could be seen as a degradation of the venue, one of Philadelphia's oldest and most esteemed institutions. Or it could just be a way of infusing the austere marble stairwell with a little silliness. It's pretty clear that no one here takes the awards — hand-size plastic plaques with gold-painted "A"s given, by the boxful, to a handful of firms — all that seriously. No one I talk to, not even the creative director of Tierney Communications, seems to have any idea what they're nominated for — the same companies, apparently, take turns receiving piles of the plaques each year. People come to network, and to visit the perpetually populated open bar (though Jason, the aforementioned Mr. Zen, has acquired a diet soda — he likes to stay sober when big-name ad execs are in the room).

Like the ad collage, there's nothing cohesive about the audience, which arranges itself in interlocking circles of business formal and hipster casual. Straight ahead is a group of distinguished men in suits, ties and, in at least one instance, a hairpiece. To the right, a guy in a too-tight Batman hoodie talks with a girl in a sequin-studded skull-and-crossbones cap.

"You should probably talk to one of the dressed-down people," Jason advises. "They're the creative types." I wonder if this applies to the guy who's just entered in a ski cap and faded, fitted jeans. The black Canon Camera slung across his back confirms he's probably not some stuffy CEO or corporate sponsor.

Despite their age, status and fashion differences, Philadelphia ad people treat their yearly ceremony more like a reunion party than a competition. A young woman with a loud nasal voice and an affinity for the phrase "Oh my God!" discusses recent office exploits with her table; another girl grabs the waist of a tipsy co-worker to keep her from falling down the stairs; two recently retired ad buffs recline along the marble stairs like construction workers on break. Jason hasn't left his seat, but he shares the enthusiasm of the room. "I don't even belong to a company," he confesses. "I just really like advertisements."

(dana.henry@citypaper.net)