Why can’t I be blonde?

Covered in stickers and stars, my diary from seventh grade fell to the floor. Inside I discovered pages of nonsense I’d written about my crush, Frankie. I was dismayed because Frankie only liked girls with blonde hair. With my full head of jet-black hair (that happened to be cut like Elvis), our love was obviously not meant to be. But I pined anyway. The anguish! 

I laughed so hard while reading. Poor seventh grade me. I didn’t understand the importance of authentic branding! It’s plain as day—Frankie was not an ideal suitor. (Why was I trying to impress a cigarette-smoking, fight-starting 12-year-old anyway?)

The point?

Marketing is about impressing the people who will appreciate our extremely hot Elvis haircuts.

Here’s to the wonder of you,