OK, panic over. On my last blog, I was feeling pretty despondent about this project, after visiting the offices of one of my favourite brands, wishing I could take the old lifestyle back and feeling stupid, inconsequential, alienated and generally pissed off with the whole thing. But my ten-hour journey to America yesterday got me right back 'on message'. I have left the UK for rural Virginia to get some writing done, and I lost count of the number of branded consumer opportunities I was presented with along the way.



Take a look at this picture. Is this a department store? No, it is the Heathrow Departure Lounge in all its branded glory. Between security checks and the departure gates, there lies a full-blown shopping centre through which all must pass. First high-end cosmetics, then booze and fags, then on to Gucci, Dior, Burberry, Smythson, Cartier, and er, Boots The Chemist. The few seats provided for waiting passengers are wedged in between hundreds of furiously lit stores, whose marketing pitch is bullied into passengers with the force of a pneumatic drill. Where are the departure/ arrival screens? Obscured by a neon hoarding for Rolex. Where is the information desk? Located in the portacabin dwarfed by a giant Harrods. And where are the toilets? Tucked away in a gloomy corner behind Prêt A Manger.



In contrast, the toilets, being the only non-brandable opportunity in the place, were something out of the dark ages, with dim flickering lights, dirty floors, trash piled up against walls, no conscious effort to make the area hospitable whatsoever. I have a nagging suspicion that the people who run this place are not only in the business getting people on and off planes.



Retailers know we are susceptible to high-pressure sales when we are on holiday. Though the average airline experience is generally cramped, unhygienic and exhausting, we still cling to old-fashioned ideals of the glamour of travel to this day. On holiday, away from the drudgery of real life, we can be whoever we wish to be. And with a wad of spending money burning holes in our pockets, an unscheduled stop at Hermes for a £450 silk scarf en route to gate 23 seems only natural. International travel is the preserve of the rich and successful. How do the rich and successful demonstrate their wealth and success? By making casual impulse purchases at luxury stores of course. And now you can too, by blowing the family spending money at the Gucci key ring concession: duty free bargains from only £199.99 inc VAT.



Our wills flattened by the airport's marketing steamroller, we collectively roamed the circular shopping mall, cooing over useless branded tat like lobotomised retail zombies (see George A Romero's 'Dawn Of The Dead'). The LV handbags, San Tropez tans and Juicy Couture tracksuits were out in force, and I wondered what it must be like to be a genuinely rich and successful person here, watching their traditional symbols of status being unceremoniously bastardised by the great unwashed. What would weary travellers really want from a departure lounge? Comfy seats perhaps, or a play area for kids, free internet consoles, some news programmes on a few TV screens... nice as they are, these ideas would not provide efficient revenue streams and might distract customers from the primary objective of the place, which is of course, parting everyone with their hard earned cash.

Eventually finding the departure gate, I travelled a two-mile corridor lined with HSBC and Vodafone ads. Both campaigns were at pains illustrate the companies' world wide vision combined with a sympathetic understanding of indigenous cultures, appealing to the international statesman within us all.



On to the plane (United Airlines) and the brand assault continued. Before takeoff, we were asked to turn off our Blackberries and Ipods. Lunch was a Kraft cheese sandwich accompanied by Walkers Crisps and a Twix, washed down with a can of 7UP and a cup of tea that was 'proudly brewed by Starbucks'. The HBO comedy channel, among others, provided entertainment and I was offered the chance to purchase Yves Saint Laurent Touché Éclat three times in as many hours. By the journey's end I felt exhausted. Trapped in controlled conditions for ten hours, I had been sold to on so many occasions, I never wanted to fly or indeed shop ever again.

What a contrast to the environment I am in now. Here in the countryside, the lifestyle is relatively simple, rendering my brand crutches virtually useless. All one needs wear day-to-day is a plain pair of shorts, a T-shirt and any old pair of shoes. I'd be laughed at if I wore any fancy branded gear, especially if I told the locals how much it all cost to buy. Saying that, I brought a few bits and bobs, just in case.