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Nokia's insane new ad: Our new tablet is a mullet (what?)

In one of the weirder, more curious ads for any gadget ever, Nokia paints a nostalgic picture of, well, hair and its Lumia 2520 tablet.

Chris Matyszczyk
2 min read
Mullet mania. Nokia UK/YouTube screenshot by Chris Matyszczyk/CNET

Last night, a woman accosted me on the streets of Miami and tried to get me to pay $700 to make my eyes less wrinkly.

She was extremely attractive. But when I told her that looks weren't everything, so I wouldn't be spending, she didn't quite catch the irony.

I wonder if you (or anyone) will catch the beauty or the irony inherent in this work of utter cosmetic art from Nokia.

It purports to advertise the Lumia 2520 tablet.

To me, it isn't something as mundane as that. It's a meditation on existence, on fashion, on dreams, and on what might have been (and still could be) if you'd just let yourself go.

Here we have a man desperate for a new haircut. Clearly, he's desperate for far more. His eyes declaim a deep wanting. His hair expresses nothing other than a beige resignation to the constant needle-pricks of life.

His bald hairdresser wants to inspire him. He, it seems, represents Nokia, an aging company that was once the greatest hairdresser in the world, but lost its way as it lost its hair.

But now there's the Lumia 2520 tablet. It represents a renaissance, an invigoration, a Viagra for the head and the heart.

It's like the mullet: business at the front and party at the back. At least that's the literal interpretation.

Really, this isn't about the tablet at all.

It's about accessing the parts of you that are beyond the ones expressed by mere appearance. It's about the inner you, the one you keep in your bedroom, watering it only sporadically.

It's about telling yourself you can't spend your life with a lover who discusses whether and when you'll have babies on Facebook.

It's about telling yourself not to look for your parents' approval anymore -- not now that you're 26.

It's about walking up to strangers and telling them you like the way their noses curl or their dimples cave into laughter.

It's about resisting the urge to let your life be a dirge.

It's about having the confidence to emerge from your society-dictated cocoon and screaming: "I will roar in the face of digitally directed despair! I will fight for the unusual, the proud, and the slightly insane! I will let down my hair and let it shed where it may!"

Are you with me? Are you with Nokia? Or are you withering?