Maybe it's time for the Prairie provinces to go on TV's What Not To Wear.
For those readers unfamiliar with the show, it's basically an exercise in humiliation. They prey on a frumpy, horribly dressed person (usually a woman), send her away to New York for a few days of shopping with a couple of fashion experts, and tell her what not to wear. They throw out all her sweat pants, too-tight '80s rocker T-shirts, and flip-flops. They give her a nice haircut, some make-up tips, et voilà -- Pygmalion for 2006!
Image is an extremely powerful tool. And when it comes to selling the Prairie economy as a good place to do business and invest, image can go a long way in making -- or breaking -- a deal.
Take Saskatchewan. It has a booming science sector, two great universities with tons of cutting-edge R&D, and a burgeoning niche manufacturing sector servicing their resources.
Yet the province continues to present a sleepy image of an agricultural economy that peaked some time around 1950. There are 10,000 miniature billboards posted throughout neighbouring Alberta that advertise the province as a farming backwater. Except we don't call them billboards -- we call them licence plates.
Saskatchewan's automobile licence plate is beige, with dull green lettering, and three stalks of brownish wheat in the middle. At the bottom, it reads "Land of Living Skies." For many people -- especially those stuck in traffic staring at the car ahead -- this is the only impression they may get of Saskatchewan.
It is the fashion equivalent of walking around with a piece of straw in your mouth, acid-washed jeans (no belt), and a baseball shirt with I Love Fishin' in vinyl letters.
Alberta's licence plate needs work, too. It' hasn't changed in 20 years. The badly designed outline of a flower looks like clip-art. The only verbal message is "Wild Rose Country." Is this an appropriate image for the fastest-growing economy on the continent?
Visually, Manitoba's is the best of the lot. There is an outline of a lake, some trees, and open sky. In a fancy script, it reads "Friendly Manitoba." Nothing wrong with being friendly, but Hobbits are friendly. It's not quite the edge that you'd like to see from a province whose thriving arts scene and biotechnology research leads the country.
Here's what I propose for each Prairie province licence plate.
Saskatchewan's would be a vibrant red background that fades to white at the top. The province's name would be at the top, in red type-face, all lower case. There would be a rendering of molecules or electrons, and the slogan would read: "Canada's Science Lab."
Alberta's plate would be royal blue along the bottom, blending up to a very soft green at the top. The rose clip-art is gone. The province's name would appear along the bottom, in white letters, along with the jab: "We're Outta Debt -- What About You?"
Manitoba, you could keep the lake-and-tree vista, but drop the bit about how friendly you are. Use the new slogan and campaign your taxpayers paid for earlier this year: "Spirited Energy." It's a much better way to portray your creative population. Friendly is good, but too friendly can be really, really bad.
In a world of fluctuating energy prices, homelessness, a war in Afghanistan, and other pressing issues, changing the lowly licence plate is not a big priority.
But at the same time, it should be given some serious consideration. Image is important. Each time someone travels by car into the rest of Canada or the U.S., the licence plate is an ambassador for the whole province.
Saskatchewan traditionalists would say that their licence plate pays tribute to a glorious agricultural past. But that's what museums are for. If the province is serious about attracting and growing a vibrant business community, it's got to look for every chance to promote itself as a player in the 21st century.
Motorists should ask themselves: If I were given 15 seconds to sell my province to a visitor, would I hold up my car's licence plate? Is this the impression I want to leave? What not to wear, indeed!
Todd Hirsch is chief economist at the Calgary-based Canada West Foundation. The views expressed are his own.