My phone buzzed with a message from a friend, sharing an Instagram post of a 1996 Alfa Romeo listed for R$19,900. I clicked on the link and my initial reaction was clear: this car is ugly. But the seller’s word choice had me thinking about the power of words in marketing — it wasn’t just an “old, impractical car” but rather an “exotic gem from Italy”.
Words are the greatest illusionists of all time. They’re Penn and Tellers of perception, capable of transforming a rust bucket into a “vintage treasure” faster than you can say “patina.” And the unwitting audience, the common folk, fall for their tricks every single time. For instance, a summer garden looking like the aftermath of botanical warfare – weeds everywhere, plants growing in chaotic patterns, flowers blooming wherever they pleased – can be called a “wildflower meadow with naturalistic design principles.” Suddenly, people line up to tour this “sustainable ecosystem garden.” The plants hadn’t changed; the words had.
This linguistic jugglery isn’t just limited to physical objects, as job titles have evolved from “garbage collectors” to “Waste Management and Disposal Specialists.” The person bringing coffee at the office is now an “Administrative Operations Coordinator.” My personal favorite? The “exterminator” is now a “Pest Removal and Prevention Consultant.” Same job, fancier words, higher rates.
But here’s where it gets interesting: it’s not just clever marketing — it changes our perception. When I describe a 2007 Peugeot as having “characterful quirks” instead of “constant problems,” I’m not only tricking others — I’m reframing how both of us see it. The culinary world perfects this trick: a “deconstructed apple pie” sounds sophisticated compared to “ingredients of an apple pie on a plate.” A R$30 avocado toast? Not just mashed avocado on bread, but “hand-crushed, locally-sourced avocado on artisanal sourdough.” Even tasting notes in wine: “wet dog and old leather” are “rustic animalistic qualities with aged hide undertones.” And tech? Nobody admits to watching cat videos all day, but “researching viral content trends” is practically professional development! An old phone isn’t old; it’s “legacy hardware.” There’s no addiction to social media but “maintaining an active digital presence.”
It’s not unreliable; it’s “selective about its operational timing.” It doesn’t break down; it “provides opportunities for enhanced mechanical familiarization.” It’s not a money pit; it’s an “ongoing investment in automotive heritage preservation.”
Next time you face something seemingly ugly or broken, remember that you’re not just dealing with reality — you’re dealing with perception. And in that space between what is and what we perceive, words rule as the architects of understanding.
So call a cluttered desk a “dynamic workflow environment.” Describe off-key singing as “enthusiastic acoustic expression.” Label mismatched socks as “asymmetrical style statements.” Because in the end, it’s not just about changing words, but changing worlds, one exotic (not ugly) description at a time.
And as for that Alfa Romeo? Let’s just say it’s not left in a lot: it’s “displayed in another’s dedicated outdoor gallery space.”
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