A Ready Cure for What May Not Ail Them

For a decade or more women have been bombarded with advertisements for feminine hygiene products of questionable value in some rather offensive marketing campaigns.

Now, from the same industry, there’s a product for women hitting the mass market: yeast infection medicines. Formerly prescription only, they’re being approved for over-the-counter sales--with advertisement direct to the consumer--starting with Monistat 7, from Johnson & Johnson’s Ortho division, and Schering-Plough’s Gyne-Lotrimin.

I don’t suggest that mass-marketing of anti-fungals is automatically suspect. But it’s expected that their sales--$220 million in prescription sales last year--can soon be doubled to more than $400 million. The combination of future goals and the tradition of marketing feminine products makes one worry what’s ahead.

Modern marketing has a history of defining women’s problems and then solving them. Deodorants were always pitched at people’s insecurities, their fears that they might need something even their best friend won’t mention.

The real bonanza was in women’s insecurities. “Freshness” has been sold to women for years--its meaning unquestioned, even unmentionable. It’s just accepted as good, an eternal verity passed from mother to daughter, as in a current TV ad for Massengill douches. “Mom, woman to woman,” says the daughter, voicing the question of the ages, “do you ever feel, you know, not so fresh?” And the mother’s answer: Massengill, to feel “naturally fresh.”

This marketing took off in the ‘60s when douches--once plain vinegar--came out in florals and flavors, from jasmine to raspberry and champagne. Feminine hygiene sprays were introduced, with great success. By 1973, an industry source told writer Nora Ephron that there were about 40 brands.

As sales increased, there were reports of irritation, even infection, accompanying the use of these cosmetics, but no matter. The idea that women had some overwhelming “freshness” problem prevailed, and manufacturers kept churning out products to cope with it. Women now have other products--douches, sprays, even sanitary pads promising to make them “feel fresh every day.” There’s even more from Massengill--the manufacturer of douches--including a “Feminine Cleansing Wash.” The ad for that features three women in a locker room discussing freshness, if only, says one, because “it beats talking diets”--apparently modern woman’s only other option.

This marketing also has a history of turning occasional problems into constant concerns. Look what the new sanitary pads did to human menstruation. Originally for use during the few days of a normal period, they were soon available for heavy, medium and light days, for the days “just before,” “just after” and even “between periods.”

Now come the yeast medicines, poised (at about $17 a pack) to solve another pervasive female problem, if not too pervasive. Schering’s studies indicate that only 12% to 14% of women get yeast infections, on average about twice a year.

Their advertising requires more delicacy. TV networks will run ads during the daytime and late evening, but “because of the nature of the category, not in the heart of prime time,” says Peter Gonze, vice president of marketing for Ortho’s advanced-care products.

Also required is some sop to doctors, who heretofore saw (and charged) all patients who needed a prescription. So the packaging urges women experiencing vaginal itch and discomfort for the first time to consult a doctor. Thereafter, given similar symptoms, they can dose themselves.

Generally speaking, most of us welcome over-the-counter sale of simple medicines. The product is not dangerous, apparently having few side effects. If the problem was misdiagnosed, the medicine simply won’t work--although some more serious condition may go untreated. No one knows how much treatment one can take, although repetitive usage is more probable when medicines become as easy to purchase as treatments for jock itch.

Indeed, high usage is clearly the goal. Schering-Plough and Johnson & Johnson alone are expected to spend about $100 million in initial promotion, although the number of sufferers, and the frequency of their suffering, would hardly seem to justify this market push.

To some extent, they’re looking to “untapped markets,” says Schering-Plough health-care spokesman Douglas Petkus, “people who used home remedies, or didn’t know what they had but hoped it would go away.” But they must also hope to increase the usage of those in-the-know, and probably the usual way, given the problem and given the customer--by increasing the perception of need. As they did with freshness.