How did a civil servant become marketing gold? Kim Knight reports on the latest development in the business of being Bloomfield.
Toasted marshmallows, campfires - and just a hint of hospital pine.
If you could bottle New Zealand's pandemic response it might smell something like this: "Ash Bloom", a new scent inspired by the country's director general of health.
In the 16 months since Covid-19 sent us into lockdown level 4, Dr Ashley Bloomfield's face has been reproduced on earrings, hand towels and T-shirts. There is an apple pie dessert in Christchurch and a baby rhinoceros in Botswana named after him. But if the perfume is a first, it's unlikely to be the last product to cash in on Brand Bloomfield.
"It's kind of frightening isn't it," says Steve Matthewman, Auckland University associate professor in sociology. "Essence of Ashley?! What does A4 paper smell like?"
In fact, the business of being Bloomfield is no joke. One Wellington store has sold 3500 hand towels embroidered with the doctor's face. A run of "curve crusher" tees and totes raised $146,410 for Women's Refuge in just two weeks. You can buy Ashley aprons online and, at the Te Papa museum store, there is a flat-pack model of the bespectacled director general, complete with podium.
How does a civil servant become a super hero?
"There's a distinctly New Zealand preference for how we like our heroes to be," says Matthewman. "Humble. I think there's a whole myth about the tall poppy syndrome. New Zealanders are fine with success, achievement and excellence and are quite happy to celebrate it . . . what we do have a problem with is people who are up themselves. In those terms, people don't come with much more humility than a figure like Ashley Bloomfield."
When the Weekend Herald contacted Bloomfield for comment on his commodification, the response was suitably on-brand. He was perplexed. He was "focused on delivering better health for all New Zealanders every day as part of the New Zealand Public Service".
Matthewman says while anybody can have 15 minutes of fame ("like the Irish travellers who thought they might have a low-key holiday") civil servants don't usually garner this much attention.
"It is exceptional. But we're in exceptional times. This is the first pandemic in a century and therefore the first in living memory. It is also the first in a highly mediated world. We've got this shared collective global consciousness of death and suffering. If you were in the Black Death, you probably didn't know what was happening in the next valley, let alone the next country."
One theory about Bloomfield's appeal: "I think there is, increasingly, greater tolerance and also appreciation for non-traditional types of masculinity. Calm. Measured. Quite happy to play number two to the female prime minister. And if you think about other types of masculinity we've seen across the globe in the context of Covid-19, you've got these Alpha male authoritarians . . . or these entitled men-children acting like toddlers."
Matthewman says someone like Bloomfield, "comes across as a bit of fresh air. He comes across as being just right". And, of course it helps that during lockdown, he was appointment viewing alongside prime minister Jacinda Ardern and the daily televised Covid updates.
"It became a shared, collective ritual," says Matthewman. "He is a brand, and something of a celebrity, and those things are only possible because of the media."
There are international parallels to the Bloomfield boom. Chris Witty, England's chief medical officer, has appeared on prayer candles and a mug emblazoned with the catchphrase "next slide please" was a Christmas bestseller. Anthony Fauci, chief medical advisor to the American President, has spawned novelty merchandise, though not all of it positive - last week a Republican fundraising group released a "Don't Fauci my Florida" shirt and a can cooler that asked "how the hell am I going to be able to drink a beer with a mask on?"
Back in New Zealand, Ashley Bloomfield told the Weekend Herald he "really appreciated" that some of the products associated with him had been used as charity fundraisers. His main focus was "working closely with the many hardworking people" who were part of the Covid-19 pandemic response and vaccine rollout.
"While I do not seek recognition for myself and my work in the Ministry of Health, clearly the early days of the Covid-19 pandemic were an unprecedented time and I was very visible in my role as director general of health . . . this has led to a number of products using my name or face, which is perplexing!"
Pre-pandemic, Amanda Richards was a high flier with a corporate travel company owned by Expedia. The Christchurch woman was among 3000 staff laid off globally. A week later, she found herself in lockdown with a toddler.
"I thought, 'well, the tourism industry is not going to come back anytime soon. I need to pivot'. And I'd always wanted to learn more about perfume."
She signed up for a nine-month, American-based online course in natural perfume-making. She says it was an exercise in patience - months of learning health and safety protocols before any scents were mixed.
"We had to submit a perfume at the end of the course. I was dibbling and dabbling, and I saw that Dr Ashley Bloomfield was very popular with his tea towels and pop-up figurines and I thought maybe I could jump on this bandwagon. It helped that he had 'Ash' and 'Bloom' in his name . . . "
It took more than 50 attempts to perfect the scent and Richards says she sniffed everything from cigarettes to chimney smoke in her search for the "ash" component.
"You become obsessed! In the end, I went down the path of a toasted marshmallow around a fire, and the great outdoors. A kind of sweet-smelling ash . . . and then you start blending the floral aspect.
"I initially wanted to use New Zealand native flowers but struggled to find any that would fit, and I didn't want it to be overpowering. I wanted a humble, unassuming, light floral - but still with a depth, because of the environment he is working in."
When she told friends about the project, "they were like 'oh, it'll be clinical, it will smell like hospitals' . . . so there is a really soft, light pine. More outdoors than clinical."
Richards plans to launch her product on July 31 under the label "Sunday Best Perfumes". Initially, she'll sell just 30 bottles at $53.95, with the scent officially described as "sparkling citrus, NZ natives, light floral blooms and warm vanilla ash with a hint of coffee". She has sent Bloomfield a sample and was relieved when this week he wished her "all the best" in her new career.
Though the natural perfume draws literally on Bloomfield's name, Richards says his on-screen personality also had an influence.
"He has a very calm demeanour and when it was a very chaotic time, I think that just helped give us peace of mind. Someone called him an 'unassuming heartthrob' - I think it's hilarious that people have found him appealing when he's just a normal guy. He's not your typical heartthrob!"
Kirsten Sutherland has firsthand experience of Bloomfield's broad appeal. The Wellington artist with a Master's degree in religious saints and embroidery was inspired to digitally stitch the director general's face on to a hand towel during New Zealand's first lockdown.
"The shop was closed and we were all talking on Zoom and suddenly everyone was discussing Ashley and his allure. All these middle-aged, very sensible western suburbs women had this crush on a public servant. It was just mental, there was just something about him.
"But then everyone started loving him. Every single person. The appeal became so incredibly broad. Everyone's mothers, and he became a gay icon. I sold 50 towels to two gay guys to send out as Christmas presents . . . "
Sutherland, who worked as lead digital embroiderer on The Hobbit film trilogy and has previously embroidered a couture collection for fashion label Hailwood, thought she'd be lucky to shift 20 towels. Sales have now topped 3500.
"It's in the Te Papa collection. I'm very excited about that. I've been an artist for years and this is my moment!"
And while "peak Ashley" has, she thinks, passed, she's still making 10-20 hand towels a week for her St Fabiola store.
"I think most people buy it as a souvenir of the era and what everyone went through."
Timing, agrees sociologist Steve Matthewman, is everything: "If people start dropping like flies, you probably don't want the Ashley Bloomfield eau de toilette."
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