If brand awareness equals sales, then I'm investing in Old Navy. This discount retailer of poorly made clothing has clawed its way into the mass consciousness by creating the most annoying series of television commercials since Energizer stopped Jacko's "Oy" campaign.

These ads use the "any publicity is good publicity" theory by being memorable solely because consumers can't forget how much they hate them. You may want to beat Morgan Fairchild to death using Magic the dog as a club, but why not do that while wearing some drawstring shorts or a performance fleece?

In addition to Ms. Fairchild, the commercials star Carrie Donovan, a character plucked from the edge of obscurity mostly because she's peculiar looking. A former fashion writer, Donovan's only claim to fame is wearing really ugly glasses. She also has a voice that sounds like "Lovey" Howell mixed with Mickey Mouse and dresses in those shapeless multi-layered frocks favored by women who criticize what other people wear for a living.

Her inclusion in the ads, as well as the use of C-list celebrities like Sherman "George Jefferson" Hemsley and Dr. Joyce "$100,000 Pyramid" Brothers are attempts to give the commercials a "campy" feel. Unfortunately, camp only works when it occurs by accident. A calculated attempt to be campy seems about as sincere as Dennis Miller's endorsement of cheaper phone service or Kentucky Fried Chicken's efforts to transform Colonel Sanders from a Confederate good ol' boy to a jive-talkin' rapper.

Making matters worse, Old Navy packages these semi-celebrities with jingles that make the 10,000th airing of Celine Dion's song from "Titanic" seem only mildly annoying in comparison. Short of coming to your house and poking an Old Navy flag in your eye (which was probably not cost effective), the company has found the most effective method to inspire loathing in consumers, which apparently makes them buy stuff.

Theoretically, once Old Navy has clawed its way inside your head, you enter the store, buy some clothes, enjoy the experience and become a loyal customer. If that happened, the negative feelings created by the commercials would be immaterial as you enjoyed a new life full of inexpensive flannel shirts, khaki pants and jeans in a variety of styles.

Unfortunately, no customer has ever had a positive experience in an Old Navy. Each store is a veritable logic puzzle which forces shoppers to pass a series of tests before they can grab an item in the desired size and style. Of course, to even get to that point, you must pass through a crowd of people that makes the Tokyo subway system seem sparsely occupied.

And once you manage to pick something out and negotiate the lengthy line to pay for it, your problems have only just begun. It seems Old Navy clothes are slightly less durable than off-brand paper towels.

They don't quite dissolve in rain, but a gentle washing makes your shirts instantly worn out. Jeans, which in theory should last forever, survive for approximately three wearings before holes begin forming in the knees. This should not happen, because like most grownups, I do very little sliding and almost no falling.

Yet despite all this, Old Navy has rung up hundreds of millions' worth of sales. Perhaps they need to advertise nearly continuously because no one who has shopped there would ever return. Either way, I'm taking my business to stores that either have commercials I like or clothes that last longer than the disposable bathing suits they used to give out at amusement park water slides.