Supermaketmania: Shiny Plastic and Constructed Personalities

By Margherita Cordellini, Staff Writer

The day is about to end and you do not feel like going home yet. You just got off from work or from a study session in the library and you need a mediator to soften the shift from an uncomfortable wooden chair to bed. It ought to be something that rewards you for having pulled through a seemingly endless day but also something that does not spoil you because you did nothing special, only your job. As you mechanically pass masses of other tired workers and students, your peripheral vision catches sight of a flower-shaped neon sign that rises above a promising banner: “20% sale on selected products.”

You know what you will encounter if you walk through the door: a maze of shining, perfectly ordered and rigorously partitioned aisles, which, albeit rarely changing, always disclose new mysteries.

You immediately find yourself in the food department, contemplating a myriad of colors, shapes and textures which are supposed to be only accessories, only the casings of what you really want, but that inexplicably signify something more. Filling up your shopping cart with bright yellow, noisy crisps packages and promising images printed on orange juice cartons is not only a temporary solution to a harsh monotonous day but a repetitive choice through which you, and many others, find meaning and reinvent yourself.

The contemporary modalities of purchasing fully embrace capitalistic values. The most evident among them is, perhaps, individualism. The heterogeneity of products and brands combined with targeted advertising suggests that there is space for everyone’s identity and invites each person to select products according to a certain congruence. You can choose to be a sporty person — and even become one — if you buy protein bars instead of biscuits. You can appear emancipated from your European background and emanate international vibes if, according to your shopping basket and your kitchen shelves, you are passionate about oatmeal and peanut butter. What this means is that supermarkets are purchasing spaces in which people seek not only to nourish but also to define themselves.

In his book “Simulations and Simulacra,” the postmodernist philosopher Jean Baudrillard understands commodities sold in supermarkets as hypercommodities; to our eyes they do not exist as objects but as an intricate net of symbols delivered by advertisements, media and consumerist culture. Baudrillard would thus affirm that we are so bombarded by images of what, for example, an apple signifies (synonym of a healthy lifestyle, dietary restrictions and self-discipline) that apples cannot be said to exist anymore, having been replaced by an ensemble of culturally and socially manufactured images tied to them. It might appear as an abstruse theory, but it shapes the way we process information more often than we think. Consider this passage from Sally Rooney’s novel “Beautiful World Where Are You”: “On his way out of the shop, in front of the fresh fruit display, he paused. Alice was standing there looking at apples, lifting the apples one after another and examining them for defects.”

An English-speaking extra-terrestrial deprived of any cultural or social background to whom somebody just explained what supermarkets are and what purpose they serve, would probably infer from this excerpt that Alice is so fond of apples that she wants to make sure to savor them fully or that she seeks the best bang for her buck. This is the most logical conclusion to draw knowing that supermarkets are places where people buy products according to their desires, needs and budgetary constraints. Yet, I highly doubt that this would be the first intuition of a person whose socialization took place in a 21st-century capitalist country and who has been sufficiently exposed to consumerist culture and digital spaces. These last two elements promote a fixation with certain gendered images of the body that privilege slim silhouettes for girls and toned ones for boys. Therefore, it would be impossible not to contemplate the possibility that Alice might be affected by this schizophrenia around somatic features, “healthy” lifestyles and normative Instagram posts studding selfcare pages. In our eyes, Alice, culturally and socially influenced, is examining apples to become a certain kind of person. Hence, in Baudrillard’s words, hypercommodities are made to test ourselves. The self-service dimension characterizing supermarkets gives us the illusory impression of agency and control, whereas, in reality, a supermarket is a space of manipulation of man by products.

This conversion from real to hyperreal does not only apply to alimentary products but to the totality of advertised items. However, the food compartment of supermarkets is a particularly interesting case study. Unlike other essential products, e.g. clothes, food is, when sold, often invisible to our eyes, being wrapped by layers of packaging. The blue plastic of Oreos and the thick milk cartons sprinkled with representations of smiling cows are supposed to be mere containers whose relevance is insignificant compared to the contents. Yet, research has shown the incredible influence that these have on consumers purchasing choices. As Schifferstein and others pointed out in their work “Influence of package design on the dynamics of multisensory and emotional food experience,” today the products’ encasement is intended to be a decisive factor. Nowadays, they explain, countless brands offer strikingly similar products: targeting the tastes of the consumers is not enough for companies. It is necessary to make the item stand out from the analogous others; the features of the wrapping material are, together with other elements such as competitive price setting, essential to this. Their research was built on the premise that, while choosing which packed food to purchase, consumers’ sensory experience is vital. Through empirical experiments, they unsurprisingly found that, if people are put in front of a supermarket shelf full of identical products of different brands the most important sense is sight. Betina Piqueras-Fiszman and Charles Spence specify that among all the visible elements characterizing a packed product (size and shape of the container, the magnitude of opening, etc...), color is one of the most decisive factors. This was proved while conducting an experiment on potato chips. Participants were asked to taste and identify the flavor of crisps served from a package whose color corresponds to another variety of potato chips — salt and vinegar chips were served from a blue package (commonly corresponding to cheese and onion crisps) and not a green one. According to the results, the majority of participants were fooled by the wrong color association and failed to recognize the right fla- vor profile, despite having uncompromised taste buds and being familiar with the crisp brand’s various flavors. The power of colors is so strong that it made it impossible for a significant part of the test group to identify the taste that they knew well. Therefore, what is it that we are really buying? The food product or the shiny plastic packages that unconsciously attract us? The answer probably lies somewhere at the intersection between these two elements.

Due to psychological biases, cultural and social influences, we are never buying only food when we go grocery shopping. Attracted by the aesthetics of a supposedly irrelevant casing and eager to build a desired version of ourselves, our experiences in supermarkets are far more complex than we deem and deserve to be further inquired into.