Zara social media Assignment Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 500 words

Zara social media - Assignment Example   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚   Zara’s website anchors its digital presence, and its expansive global reach is clearly apparent by the number of countries and languages that users can access the site in. Online sales were launched in March 2012, and the company has expanded aggressively in Asia recently (Interbrand). Zara boasts an active Twitter handle, a Facebook page, and a blog on Tumblr among other online ventures.   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚   In terms of paid media, Zara is different in that it relies on word of mouth and brand loyalty, rather than advertising, to boost its sales (Robin, 2013, p.2). While â€Å"most typical fashion retailer[s] will spend 20%-30% of their revenues on advertising, Zara spends less than 0.5% – a big saving,† and what advertising it does do is mostly concentrated on what its windows display on the street-level.   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚   Relying on in-house efforts has its rewards, but also its risks. The fact that Zara has little or no paid online advertising outside of company-run sites means that outside groups have a strong say in dictating Zara’s online profile—and in the fashion world, that can be dangerous. Google Zara and the top results include a Greenpeace campaign against the company for use of toxic chemicals, a critique of the retailer for refusing to pursue plus-sized consumers, and complaints of relying on sweatshop clothing manufacturers. On the other hand, the company is praised for its streamlined business model and the ability of store managers to connect directly to local and regional designers in order to stay trendy (Robin, 2013).   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚   Overall, Zara’s digital strategy is spare and risky, outside of owned media, but so far, it is not affecting sales or perception in a measurable way. It is significant to note that Zara does not engage in advertising its products instead, it only advertises when it is intending to open up new stores. The company

Issue brief Case Study Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 1000 words - 1

Issue brief - Case Study Example A physician or a director who has an MD degree must supervise the nurses or physicians carrying out laser treatment (Williams, 27). Since Dr. Goyzueta is qualified to be a director and an owner it is wise for him to venture into the spa thus should target a better location. Most of the fatal cases reported in facial surgeries have been associated with New York spas. This claim means that most clients are not willing to risk their lives in plastic surgeries in these spas. This proves as a challenge to generate customers of the best paying services in spas. To ensure that the business becomes successful Dr. Goyzueta, should start his spa in New Haven where there are no such fatal cases reported since he will gain more clients. New York’s population comprises of younger people as compared to that of New Haven. This is against spas services since past researches claim that 92% of spas customers are above 35 years (Williams, 22). According to previous researches that prove women spending almost 70% of their earnings on their appearances, the physical appearance among most of the females in the United States is one of the most important things (Williams, 22). This makes it effective for spa business where the population has more women than men do. Most of these women are working and receive relatively higher wages in comparison to the population in Manhattan, which is low populated and the spa services are not much of a necessity (Merriam-websters Geographical Dictionary, 2007, p. 34). The traffic in the Northeastern part of the United States is heavy, making it effective for people to have massages during the rush hour thus creating business opportunity for the medical spa. The medical spas laws in the Northeastern part of the United States is lenient in the essence that the use of lacer light can be performed by advanced nurses. The

Short Story on the Afterlife

Short Story on the Afterlife A Dream I Had About the Afterlife Last night I dreamed that I had died. It wasnt the normal kind of dream. It wasnt the kind of dream that you wake up enthralled, afraid, or tearful from. It was something deeper than that. When I died, there was no white light to walk toward, no staircase in the clouds, no golden gate atop them, no heavenly chorus scoring each and every one of my footsteps, as if each one of them pounded on the drums of destiny, no heart, no passion, no feeling that every breath I took in my mortal life led to this moment, and that now my dreams were coming true, and I was ascending towards everlasting glory. There was none of that. But equally there was no fear. There was no anxiety, or panic, or hopelessness. The four emotions I had forever associated with death. The emotions that had left my mind crippled, contemplating other alternatives to constantly living with the big day forever looming over me. Emotions that had rendered me useless, unable to function, wondering what we are doing on this planet, and why something as spectacular as life on earth, with its inconceivable beauty and ability to emote human euphoria, could have such a terrifying and mind numbing opposite as death, and how we could know so little about it other than at its existential core, it is nothing but the absence of life in a previously living body. No. Instead of fear or euphoria, there was realism. Quite frankly, there was no commotion. I had died in a hospital, in a small room, my loved ones surrounding me as I lay in a bed drifting off courtesy of an incurable disease, as so many have done before me, and so many will do after. As I faded I felt my woes fade also. I dont think we realise it when our lives are so busy, but we always have our woes or problems on our mind, we just dont notice them as much. I thought about my family and friends. They held hands and sobbed around my bedside, knowing they were witnessing the last moments of my human life. I guessed that I should have been worrying about them, how they would cope without me, but three familiar words kept circulating in my head. Life goes on. Life would go on for them. They would be sad, but they would find closure, and then eventually it would be their time to go too. None of these things worried me. I had always pondered the afterlife, and by this point I had accep ted that I would either see them again, or that I wouldnt need to. I understood that love transcends life. And then it happened; though it didnt happen instantly. Throughout life I had always imagined that the moment of death would be similar to an abrupt power-outage, where in a split second, darkness would engulf everything. But it wasnt. It was a gradual process and I wasnt quite sure when life had ended, and whatever came next had begun. Those around my bed began to leave the room. They left in an orderly fashion, as if it had previously been decided how they would do so. Each of them did so matter-of-factly, and that was the first sign that I may have passed over, as Im sure in normal circumstances they would be crying and mourning uncontrollably. Instead, each of them just left. Some of them held my hand before leaving, and others kissed my forehead. And then, just like that, I was alone, albeit for just a few seconds. It was in this moment that I realised that I was witnessing my death out of body. I was standing in the corner watching this happen, not lying in the bed. And then I realised that I now had a purpose. I sat at a table in the middle of the room. It was small and there were only two chairs. The version of myself that I had just been watching got out of bed and sat at the table also. I was sitting across the table from myself. Somehow looking into my own eyes and staring back at them at the same time. Only when you look into your own eyes can you comprehend your existence. And then we talked for what felt like an hour, and yet it could have lasted for a thousand years because any comprehension that I had of time in my human life had faded, and I began to think that maybe time didnt exist anymore. We talked about the life I had lived on earth, about the relationships I had formed and the feelings I had had, what I had achieved in life, and what mark I had left on the earth. And then I as ked myself what was going to happen next, and of course didnt know the answer. Just as quickly as I had realised what my role was in my own passing over ceremony, I became clueless even faster. And there I was. At a table with another person, and yet somehow completely alone simultaneously; with the most pondered question of all time, and not a single answer. I closed my eyes and breathed in. I took two more, long, similar breaths, and I held the last one. I opened my eyes. And then I saw everything. Every sunrise and sunset from every possible corner of the earth. Every flower that had ever bloomed, every tree that had ever grown, every mountain that had ever been conquered. Every creature on land, in the sky and in the oceans. Every man who had ever made his dreams come true and every woman who had ever accomplished her greatest feat. Every new-born baby that had ever been born, potential in their eyes. I experienced every sensation that could ever be felt, and saw every note that had ever been played, I tasted success, I smelled hope and in all of these things combined I saw the face of God. I awoke in my bed and questioned my own existence again. As I write this I am still unaware of what my dream means. I believe that we are more than skin and bones. I believe that our bodies are nothing but vessels, and I believe that our souls are always yearning to escape them. I am unsure of the afterlife, and I wonder whether or not this life on earth is simply the afterlife to a previous one; that maybe every life is an afterlife and in each one we are promised something different for the next. I wonder how many times I have died before, I wonder how many times I will die again, and I wonder whether or not there is some end to this cycle. The only thing we can be sure of is death, for without death there is no life. There cannot be one without the other, but I do not believe that birth is the beginning and death the end. Until it is my time to become knowledgeable of what is next to come, I will just keep dreaming.

Comparing Steppenwolf and the Teenaged Girl Essays -- Comparison Compa

Parallels Between Steppenwolf and the Teenaged Girl  Ã‚   To be a teenaged girl means many things in this modern society. There are numerous expectations set for the average sixteen year old female: she must be pretty, popular, thin, preferably intelligent, but not too intelligent, and she must subjugate her will to the group. This world has a tendency to shun females who are too independent, who seek too much power, and who attempt to break from the stereotypical female mold. I have personally experienced this spurning, especially from my peers. There exists a dichotomy somewhere in my own soul, a rift between that which I am expected to be and who I really am. Harry Haller, in Hermann Hesse's novel Steppenwolf, experienced a similar predicament. He was torn between the life of a socially acceptable, "decent" man, and the primal, lupine nature of the Steppenwolf. I find myself caught between wanting to be a socially acceptable, "popular" girl, and being the independent, intellectual, and strong person that I actually am. There are a number of parallels between Haller and I, each further proving that the dichotomy of the Steppenwolf and the division within myself, the teenaged girl, are of the same essence.   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Often in my life I have felt trapped by the boundaries and expectations that those around me have set for how I ought to behave, think, and feel. Here in suburban America, these boundaries are often set by peers and family, as well as by the media and celebrity figures. The expectations that they have set often dictate ideas that, deep down, I greatly disagree with. One of the most prominent of the ideas is that my worth is reflected in my outward physical appearance. In this world which has declared war on th... ...conditioned self and the true self. She both wishes to be accepted and to be set free from the group's expectations. She wants the perfect body and face and yet realizes the lack of importance therein. Harry Haller, in the end, could not completely understand the game of life, but understood that the willingness to play and the eagerness to sort through the inner self are what really matter. I have realized that, in the end, I must learn the same lesson. The road ahead will not be easy, just as Harry's journey was long and arduous. Fear and fleeing are no longer options, though. It is an archetypal, inherent knowledge within each human being that self-knowledge is key to a true existence, and both the Steppenwolf and the teenaged girl realize the importance of this expedition. Works Cited: Hesse, Hermann. Steppenwolf. New York: Henry Holt and Company, 1990.

The Witness Paper Essay

There is no better manner to understand an event than to see it first-hand. History is an imperfect thing. and as narratives are passed down. people forget their true significance. In â€Å"The Witness† . Katherine Anne Porter’s â€Å"Uncle Jimbilly† has experienced the horrors of bondage personally. and is frustrated when kids of the following coevals do non to the full understand and esteem the subject. The manner Porter describes these characters subtly shows the reader their feelings toward each other. Direct word picture may non be the most elusive signifier. but it rapidly and expeditiously gets a point across. The kids are given descriptions like. â€Å"flighty† . â€Å"thoughtful† . and â€Å"sad looking† . This brief word picture causes one to see the kids merely as guiltless immature heads. Uncle Jimbilly is described as an old adult male who â€Å"hobbles on a stick† with light-green grey. flocculent hair. He is â€Å"bent about double† from old ages spent bowing over things. This reflects his former life as a slave. He has clearly lived a long. difficult life. and his battered organic structure shows us this. Indirect word picture helps to supply a deeper apprehension of a character. Through the inquiries the kids have for Uncle Jimbilly. particularly the younger two. Porter demonstrates their artlessness farther. â€Å"The kids thought Uncle Jimbilly had got over his bondage really good. † This outlook creates some inquiries the kids believe to be harmless ; they do non to the full understand the emotional strain Uncle Jimbilly faces. However. with his responses. the reader comprehends his true feelings on the affair. Maria asks him to carve â€Å"Safe in Heaven† on the gravestone for her coney. At her inquiry Uncle Jimbilly grows impatient and continues to reminisce about the male childs in the swamp and the unjust ways they were treated. This highlights the acrimonious feelings he has toward his yesteryear and the fact that the kids do non understand his agony. Katherine Anne Porter’s usage of word picture leaves the reader with a character many beds deep. She displays their colourss in a manner which highlights the implicit in subject in â€Å"The Witness† . The generational spread between Uncle Jimbilly and the kids is portrayed throughout the narrative and Uncle Jimbilly’s past of bondage is used as vehicle to stress this spread. Younger coevalss will ne'er to the full understand their ancestors’ lives. merely as coevalss to come will non understand theirs.

Rhetorical Analysis on “An Elementary School in Slum Essay

The poem â€Å"An Elementary School Classroom in a Slum† by Stephen Spender, begins with a stanza depicting the worrying condition of the students in elementary school. As the poem extends further, Spender points out the corruptions in the Government and accuses it for paying little attention to children’s education and health conditions. He argues that the children should break through the confinement of slum, and embrace the beauty of nature. In the slum, Children do not have pleasant moments; they are far away from the â€Å"gusty waves†, and far away from the fields and playgrounds that supposed to accompany them along their childhood memories. They also do not have healthy bodies. A simile compares their hair to â€Å"rootles weed†, which shows that the children are severely malnourished, and are not taken care of. The boy is â€Å"paper-seeming†, and â€Å"of twisted bones†. The â€Å"tall girl with her weighed-down head† implies the fact that she might be looked down by others, and she is physiologically and psychologically fatigue. However, there is â€Å"one unnoted, sweet and young† kid, at the back of the classroom, whose â€Å"eyes live in a dream, of squirrel’s game. † We can see a glimmer of hope from this sweet kid, however, we are not sure if he is simply lost in the â€Å"squirrel’s game†. The school is poorly equipped with donations such as Shakespeare’s portrait that decorates on the â€Å"sour cream walls. † The picture of â€Å"cloudless at dawn, civilized dome riding all cities† is in sharp contrast to the dusty sky and shabby building of elementary school in reality. The kids’ future is painted with a fog under a â€Å"lead sky. † The depiction of turbid sky created an atmosphere of despair and hopelessness. Not only the children’s future is foggy and blurred, but also their lives are monotonous and insipid, â€Å"far far from rivers, capes, and the stars of words. The children are confined to the school in slum as well as their imagination. William Shakespeare, the greatest playwright and poet in English language, is â€Å"wicked† to them, because they cannot appreciate the splendidness of language. And â€Å"the map is a bad example, with ships and sun and love tempting them to steal. † The map gives chil dren the taste of charming nature; however, instead of igniting the light of hope, it falsely tempts the children to acquire their goals even at the cost of stealing. They live in â€Å"cramped holes†, a limited and narrow space, with â€Å"slag heap† all around them. Their study environment and living conditions are horrible, that they cannot maintain healthy body, let alone receiving appropriate education. Their future is like â€Å"mended glass,† foggy and blurred, full of despair. The school only operates when â€Å"governor, teacher, inspector, visitor† come to observe, so it does not provide serious teaching. Consequently, â€Å"this map becomes their window and these windows that shut upon their lives like catacombs. † The slum limits the students’ horizon, like catacombs, and the maps are the only way for them to see the world outside. They live in a dream that can never come true as long as they are still in the slum. At last, the poet envisions the students break through the confinement of slum, and finally they can embrace the beautiful nature, that was once on the map but far away from them. Spender harshly criticizes the government’s nonchalance towards the poverty-stricken children, and he appeals to all the people to pay more attention to the children and help ameliorate their education and health conditions. So that they can â€Å"show the children green fields and make their world run azure on gold sands, and let their tongues run naked into books. †