Do you love Red Lobster? Would you accompany a stranger to one of the seafood chain's locations in the greater New York area? You might just be the woman this Brooklyn man is seeking.
Sometimes you read something that's so beautiful, you don't care if it's true. This Boston man's "Missed Connections" posting on Craigslist, looking for a woman who saved his life back in 1972, is one of those things.
In the 2000s we built media labs. In the 2010s we've built "live rooms"—much heralded pop-up work spaces in which brands and agencies sift through the noise of real-time data.
If you're not into Star Wars, you might as well sign off the Internet for the rest of the year. Not only are the filmmakers going to bombard you with content, everybody else is, too. Case in point: A Craigslist user in California posted a "buyer beware" listing warning people not to purchase the Imperial II-Class Star Destroyer seen in the most recent Star Wars: The Force Awakens trailer.
Red Tettemer O'Connell + Partners placed some faux personal ads in the New York, Philadelphia and Chicago sections of Craigslist's popular "Missed Connections" department on behalf of crystal jeweler Swarovski.
Here's a sobering statistic: From 2000 to 2013, annual U.S. newspaper ad revenue dropped from $63.5 billion to $23 billion.
If summer is the season of casual, short-lived romances and flirty hookups, maybe winter is the season of serious dating and questions like, "We've only been together for three weeks. Is a gift card too impersonal of a Christmas gift?" Indeed, says two New York who turned to Craigslist to summon applications for "fall boyfriends." The ad offers zero information about the women besides smart/funny/attractive. But with guidelines for applicants like "Probs spent at least 4 weekends in Montauk over the summer" and "Ivy league preferred. Def in a frat or played a sport," we can conclude they're those girls at the bar who laugh really loud to show everyone that they've got great senses of humor (read: intensely annoying). It's another addition to the list of notable Craigslist ads ("Looking for boys we might be able to stand being sober around" is kind of funny), and a nice little read, if two of your hobbies listed on LinkedIn include cringing and getting a mild headache. And for every person who says "This is satire!" there are probably several who think this ad is perfection and are firing up their Craigslist accounts right now. The post has been flagged for removal, but hopefully not before they found two chill bros for Sunday Fundays. Full text of the ad below. Photo via.
Craigslist is not a place where you tend to find beautiful, creative, compelling advertising. It's almost all amateur ads, after all, and created within a fairly limiting framework. Still, we've seen what can happen when people do put a little effort into it. Whether you're pitching yourself as the perfect roommate or selling your crappy old Camry, a little ingenuity goes a long way in helping you stand out in Craiglist's mind-numbing sea of sameness. The recently opened Classify Advertising is dedicated to doing just that. It will take your terrible Craigslist ad and make it a brilliant Craigslist ad—for free! Classify, which bills itself as "the only agency that started with 80 million clients already," was started by three agency interns. Here's how they describe the business: "Classify moves products out the door. We turn your used junk into a pile of sweaty, hot lucre. It’s not our business what you do with all that bread. We transform Craigslist posts from boring, ineffective ads into dynamic cash cows. Cows that you can milk—for money." They've got a few before-and-after examples posted on the site. (We've posted some of them below.) We also caught up with the founders to ask how the service works—and what their plans are for ramping it up.
A three-person nonprofit startup, Classify Advertising, has issued an open invitation to everyone around the world to “transform Craigslist posts from boring, ineffective ads into dynamic cash cows.”
Craigslist personals haven't been the same since the spambots and professional escorts moved in, but now there's Collective Love, a service that can help us remember the site's glorious, incomprehensibly written past.