only yesterday was the time of our lives

Adele, you guys.

Adele. Oh, girl. Listening to “Someone Like You” is like picking a hangnail. It hurts, but I just can’t help myself. When the opening piano notes come on the radio, I have to make the conscious choice: yup, I’m going to cry in my car right now. Do this to me, Power 96.5. I’m a writer. Depression keeps me interesting.

Sad songs should get endorsement contracts with wine companies—like country songs and beer. Isn’t catharsis an under-explored marketable emotion?
Sex sells. As do sports. But so, I argue, might sadness.

Or not quite sadness…
Those oddly spelled emotional states I dabble in from time to time…

Products, we’re told, will fill our needs. But what if I want products to just be with me in my moment of emptiness; not filling, not solving, just being there? (And yes, I get it. I like my marketing like I like my men…) But could that be more powerful?

If, say, Maybelline were to pitch Adele’s message, “sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead…” I might say, DAMN RIGHT, IT DOES! Pass the lip gloss!

I have to wonder, what would Don Draper say…
“You think young women want to feel sad, Peggy? You think they want their lip gloss to remind them they’re alone? You can feel that way in some coffee shop in the Village, if you want, but when you’re here, you sell the happy ending.”

He might say that (I kind of love writing with Don Draper’s voice in my head, ps), but I know he doesn’t believe it. Don more than anyone needs for Adele to sing him a song about how sometimes life isn’t okay (but it’s okay).