Instructor’s Notes on Text Cases
INTC-60
Consumer products giant Procter & Gamble launched a Web site for teenage girls with
information on puberty and relationships and little dancing tampons at the bottom of the main
page. The Web site, www.beinggirl.com, was designed with the help of an advisory board of
teenage girls, P&G said.
Sara Nathan, Levi’s to Launch “Cool” Ad Campaign,” USA Today, July 27, 2000, pp. 01B.
Near the beginning of this century the Johnson and Johnson company produced the first
commercial disposable pad. It was made of cotton covered with gauze, but the retail industry
shunned the product.
According to the book, The Curse: A Cultural History of Menstruation, this happened
because “turn–of-the-century morality prevented advertising these ‘unmentionables.’” The
pads did not reach many women and were eventually withdrawn from the market.
It was only after the First World War had ended that another company, Kimberly Clark, was
prepared to once again try to market a feminine napkin. They decided to do this after it was
learned that some resourceful Red Cross nurses had replaced obnoxious menstrual rags with
Cellucotton, the surgical material the company had supplied to dress war wounds.
In 1920, after intensive research and market testing, the company succeeded in producing a
viable consumer product for women. The first napkins, bulky by today’s standards, sold for
60 cents for 12 pads packaged in a “hospital blue” box. A customer didn’t even have to
request the product by name; all she had to do was put her money in a box near a pile of the
unmarked packages and walk out of the store.
Almost immediately the product was the center of controversy. Many drug and department
stores refused to stock the Kotex pads. One Woolworth store in San Francisco was forced by
a men’s organization to take down a window display of the sanitary pads.
Media outlets were aghast at the idea of advertising a product associated with something that
was regarded as a “hush-hush” subject. Ladies Home Journal was the first magazine willing
to accept an ad for sanitary pads, but this was done with the understanding euphemisms and
great discretion would be paramount. Later, magazine publishers felt somewhat reassured
when some ads stressed that women doctors had played a role in design improvements.
About the same time Kimberly Clark was pioneering its first sanitary pad, a young man on its
staff was experimenting with a bizarre-looking device—a condom in which he had punctured
holes and filled with the same material used in the pads.
He was thrilled with his innovative achievement, which he contended could be used by
menstruating women. His father, Dr. George H. Williamson, who was Kimberly Clark’s first
medical consultant during the development of the sanitary pad, was shocked by his son’s
creation.
He said, “Never would I put such a strange article inside a woman.” He also warned that
marketing such a product would be a legal nightmare. “Don’t discuss this with anyone
because some damn fool will want to put it on the market and you’ll be in trouble!”
But clever ideas seldom disappear and, 10 years later, another company bought the patent for
a tampon prototype from a woman who claimed her device would be “a different method of
taking care of menstruation.” Given the name Tampax, the new feminine product was also
destined to generate widespread outrage.