So Honda has come out with the Fit She’s. It’s for women, and it’s pink. Let’s see what else about it makes it “for women,” other than the pinkness and the fact that it says it is. Oh, it has a UV protecting windshield. Because only women get skin cancer. Other than that, there’s nothing else, no other defining feature on the Fit She’s that makes it for women. That’s all. It’s pink, with sun protection. It’s for women (so you keep saying). My interest was minimal, it is now gone.
I would make fun of this car myself but Alyssa Rosenberg does a pretty good job of that in Slate:
[C]olor coordination isn’t the only thing I want out of a car. Where’s the emergency kit in the trunk that comes fully equipped with an extra set of birth control pills, spare Spanx, and replacement heels in case I break one of mine running to whatever meeting I’m late to this time? What about an onboard GPS system that won’t let me make hormonal navigation decisions? Or an OnStar system that summons only the cute AAA guy? And I’d really love a specialized Breathalyzer that can detect if I have too few Skinnygirl Margaritas in my system to go home with that guy.
Thanks, Alyssa. Thanks, and exactly.
The Fit She’s (oh, the Japanese and their attempts at English. Thank God Americans are too stupid to even bother with their language) does not represent the first time a car company tried to make and market a car for women. That happened in 1954, with the Nash Metroplitan. They made those until 1962. (During those eight years, there were no known instances of a man driving a Metropolitan and becoming suddenly extremely feminine, but it’s possible.) I don’t want to speak for all women here, but if you’re going to design products for us, think of something that is useful, and not just pink. And that means fewer all-gas cars on the road, not more.