Andrea Morales and Gavan Fitzsimons can
both remember when and where their current research interest began. It
came during a talk at the University of Pennsylvania a few years ago:
Paul Rozin, a professor of psychology, took a cockroach that had been
sterilized, dipped it into a glass of orange juice, then asked if anyone
was willing to take a sip.
Nobody was. But if an involuntary
ewww just went through your mind, as it almost certainly did, the
experiment is still working. Rozin specializes in the psychological
study of disgust, and he was demonstrating the universal concept of
touch transference. It's a fancy term for cooties. If something
repulsive touches something benign, the latter, even if it's physically
unchanged, becomes "infected."
Fitzsimons and Morales, who teach
marketing at Duke and Arizona State University, respectively, suspected
this phenomenon had implications for the consumer marketplace--and in an
article in this month's Journal of Marketing Research, they show that
it does. In a series of studies, the researchers found not only that
some products--trash bags, diapers, kitty litter, tampons--evoke a
subconscious feeling of disgust even before they're used for their
ultimate messy purposes, but they can also transfer their general iciness to anything they come in contact with. "We were pretty
surprised at how strong the effect was," says Fitzsimons. "This is
probably the most robust result in my career."
It's also part of a
growing trend of applying science to supermarkets (see chart). Analysts
who study shopping habits have already made some surprising discoveries
about product placement. "Eye level," for example, used to mean, not
surprisingly, "at the level of the eyes." But shoppers tend to keep
their eyes aimed at cart level much of the time, making sure they aren't
about to run over another customer. And because Americans read from
left to right, shelf-stokers tend to put name brands like, say, Heinz,
on the left side of the ketchup display, and the lesser known, more
profitable in-house brand on the right.
This may be the first
study, though, that reveals an evolutionary basis to shopping
preferences. Low-threshold revulsion makes sense, protecting our
ancestors from eating rotten or poisonous food or touching animals that
had died of infectious disease. The face of disgust--with the nose
wrinkled and the eyes squinted as if against some pungent smell, and the
tongue often protruding as if spitting something out--tells you a lot.
"It was probably," says Fitzsimons, "a pretty good proxy for the germ
theory of disease before anyone knew germs existed."
The idea
that negative qualities can be passed by a touch has become hardwired,
says Fitzsimons. (That applies to good qualities too, which is why
touching a holy object or person is considered a way of acquiring a
little holiness for oneself.) So he and Morales set out to see whether
toilet paper and other products could psychologically contaminate food
in a shopping basket. They used real shopping baskets, though they did
not conduct their tests in a real supermarket, and told subjects that
the study had to do only with product preference.
Strong
preferences were just what the subjects exhibited. Any food that touched
something perceived to be disgusting became immediately less desirable
itself, though all of the products were in their original wrapping. The
appeal of the food fell even if the two products were merely close
together; an inch seemed to be the critical distance. "It makes no sense
if you think about it," says Fitzsimons. More irrationally still, the
subjects were less comfortable with a transparent package than an opaque
one, as if it somehow had greater power to leak contamination. Whatever
the severity of the taint, the result was predictable.
"We'd
take cookies out of the basket and offer them to the subjects," says
Fitzsimons, "and we had some really tempting-looking cookies." No
takers. Moreover, he says, "everything we did suggested that these
feelings were below the level of awareness. If we told someone, 'You
didn't take the cookie because it touched the kitty litter,' they would
say, 'That's ridiculous.'"
A product does not stay contaminated
forever. The aversion tends to fade after about an hour, though that's
not much use to the grocery store, since shoppers don't generally return
a short while after leaving to reconsider their purchases.
Unlike
a study in, say, particle astrophysics, this one has practical
consequences. "More and more stores organize products by category," says
Morales, "so you have a baby aisle, for example, with diapers and wipes
and baby food all together." Supermarkets might want to rethink that
arrangement. And other retailers will be interested to hear about
Morales' next study, on the opposite of the cooties effect. "It turns
out that if male customers see an attractive woman touching a garment,
like a T shirt, the men are more likely to want it."