Describe an advertisement you remember.

The advertisement I remember best is a Japanese TV commercial for a instant noodle brand that aired around New Year several years ago — and interestingly, it barely showed the product at all.
I first saw it at my parents' house during the holidays, which turned out to be the perfect setting. The ad follows a young woman working alone in Tokyo who decides at the last minute not to go home for New Year because of work. Her mother says it's fine on the phone, in that way mothers do. Then a parcel arrives: a box of instant noodles, and buried among them, handwritten notes and photos from home. The daughter eats the noodles alone at midnight, crying and laughing at the notes. The product logo appears for maybe two seconds at the end.
It went viral almost immediately, and I completely understand why. Instead of shouting about flavour or price, it attached the brand to the single strongest emotion in Japanese culture — the pull of home. It tugged at the heartstrings so precisely that I, a grown adult, sat there blinking hard in front of my own mother.
I remember it because it taught me what great advertising actually does: it doesn't sell an object, it borrows a feeling you already have and quietly writes its name on it.