Until a few weeks ago, I’d never heard of Leandra Medine, a 22-year-old fashion blogger known as The Man Repeller. Strange name, but as I read her blog, it all made sense.
Medine came up with the Theory of Man Repulsion when she realized that some of her favourite fashion (like expensive fringed purple boots that resemble high-heeled My Little Pony dolls) drove men away instead of attracting them.
Her theory applies equally well to cars, which have been used by men as rolling aphrodisiacs since the time of Henry Ford – and often badly. As Medine has observed with fashion, exotic pedigree and high price do not guarantee that a product will work on the opposite sex. Had I shown up for my first date with my wife in a Ferrari Testarossa or a black Corvette with tinted windows, our relationship would have ended on that very day in 1983.
Like any product, an image-enhancing car must be tailored to the desires of its target audience, and there are plenty of women that the Testarossa or the Corvette would have worked on. But in my single days, my target audience was well-educated women who tended to resemble Audrey Hepburn and liked philosophy, good wine and music – and in that demographic, over-the-top stud-mobiles are a no-no. (There are plenty of women who assume that if you drive a Testarossa or a black Corvette, you probably frequent online pharmacies and hair replacement clinics.)
So why do men spend so much money on cars that actually turn women off? Group-think and car magazines. After reading Hot Rod for a few years, it’s all too easy to believe that an SS Chevelle with a candy-apple paint job and a chromed supercharger sticking through the hood will make you desirable. (It will, but only to other men who read Hot Rod magazine.)
Deluded fashion is a cross-over concept. As I studied Medine’s Man Repeller theory, I realized that she and her female friends create self-referential standards of beauty, spend fortunes on pointless accessories, and choose styles that no one likes except them. Medine’s fashion tastes run to flowing orange dresses that flutter out from short leather jackets, weirdly-patterned tights and high-heeled shoes that have spikes jutting from the back like velociraptor claws.
And it’s expensive. Medine was recently shown carrying a Proenza Schouler Navajo print handbag that costs $2291. I’d say that was ridiculous, except I’m a guy who once paid more than that for a pair of Weber carburetors because they completed my engine-compartment vision.
Those expensive carburetors were part of a car that was a true woman-repeller: a customized VW Beetle with lowered suspension and stiffened springs that made it ride like an oxcart, and a weight-saving, bare-metal interior. The heating system had been removed to improve performance, and there was no radio. My first date with a woman in those days was usually my last.
A man’s automotive vision can be unique. And it can keep him single. This weekend, I came across the car of a Toronto man known as Neon Dean, who has spent years shaping an aged Oldsmobile to his particular tastes. (Pink paint, gold windshield wipers, and glowing pink neon tubes that spell his name.) Personally, I kind of like Dean’s car, because it’s an original that conforms to a powerfully-held personal aesthetic (much like Medine’s spiked shoes.) But I am willing to bet that Dean isn’t married.
