Showing posts with label naming. Show all posts
Showing posts with label naming. Show all posts

Monday, March 15, 2010

Eyes wide open (thanks, Grace)

Not so long ago, I wrote here about The Writer, just one of many posts about the way in which brands use language to distinguish themselves – in both senses of the word.

And it reminded me of uncompromising brands like Gym Jones, a gym in Utah that prides itself on nothing less than Power, Speed, Endurance, Suffering and Salvation.


As you can read for yourself in this exert from their website, they're pretty serious about what they do (and don't).


I wish more brands took themselves so seriously that they held to such an unwavering view of their place in the world, rather than allow punters to wander into a focus group and make all the important decisions for them. But alas, such instances seem few and far between.

Unless, that is, you know where to look.

It was Grace Coddington, Creative Director of American Vogue, who spoke in The September Issue about how she learnt early in her career that you should always keep your eyes open, never go to sleep in the car or anything like that, keep watching – because whatever you see out the window or wherever, it can inspire you.

And so it was that I found myself staring out of the passenger window on Saturday morning as we drove along the incredibly uninspiring and downright demoralising Parramatta Road.

All these thoughts were rattling around in my head when out of the blue – or should I say gray? – I saw a furniture store called 3 Of A Kind with this brutally honest tagline.

Butt ugly blokes building handsome furniture for beautiful people.

I wish we'd stopped to find out if it was true, but I can only imagine that there's few better places to go if you want an honest piece of original craftsmanship.

And if that wasn't enough, we then drove straight past this tattoo parlour.


Where better to go than the House Of Pain?

Friday, February 26, 2010

R.U.B.O.Q.?

A few days ago, the Bank of Queensland launched this re-brand.



And since then – and like many launches of late – it's attracted mixed reviews, most notably here.

So I thought I'd add my own thoughts into the mix with this comment that I left on Mumbrella:

I've been interested to read the discussion here about this campaign and the idea behind it, but it seems everyone is focusing on the issue from a purely visual perspective or in terms of production. And ignoring the fact they've changed their name from Bank of Queensland to BOQ, as well as the potential reasons why – which is a pretty big deal.

When it comes to choosing names – for babies or banks – it's always difficult. But what's even more intriguing about this case is that while their campaign is all about being small and personal, their change of name says exactly the opposite.

Firstly, choosing an acronym is the surest way to strip any emotion and meaning from a word. Acronyms typically lack personality and make it hard for people to remember what they stood for in the first place. Which, unfortunately, does not resonate with their new tagline "Your own personal bank".

Secondly, it's interesting to think about why they switched to an acronym. The likeliest reasons are more to do with a commercial rather than a creative strategy. They want to put some clear water between the brand and the word "bank", as well as lose the restrictions that come with the geographical tag "Queensland".

In other words, this isn't about getting smaller, this is about getting bigger. Much bigger.

So what will it be? A small, local bank with the personal touch? Or, an international institution that hides behind a faceless acronym? Looks like they're keeping their options open for now.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Wine not?

Recently, I have happened to pen a couple of posts about wine (here and here), both of which have been critical judgements of an industry struggling with its identity in tough times.

However, an evening meal at a local café the other week has given me reason to be hopeful.


The cafe is typical of the inner city. Petite and charming amidst the urban clutter, it opens right onto the street and provides the perfect vantage point to watch the world pass by. The food is sweet, the coffee's bitter, and they have a small but reasonable wine list – and what's more, one that has Mystery wine at the top of the list.

Why not? I'm sure that their Mystery wine is just the same as what everyone else calls house wine, but how about that for something a little more imaginative?

For me, it instantly transforms something banal into an adventure. And at $6 a glass, it's everyone's favourite type of adventure – one that's low on risk but high on story value.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

One-name-fits-all

Naming anything is one of the hardest things you can do in life. And naming a business is no different.

It's especially hard because everyone is looking for a degree of differentiation. Not simply from a market perspective, but also from a legal one. And it's the latter that's the really tough part, because the vast majority of names have already been taken. In fact, according to a CNN report that I quoted as part of this article I wrote for B&T as long ago as 2003, 98% of the words in a typical dictionary have already been registered by one company or another.



As I outlined in the article, there's a whole range of pitfalls when it comes to naming, but here I want to focus on the question of differentiation.

In particular, I want to focus on a curious example of an entire industry where differentiation is almost absent when it comes to the name.

British pubs.

From the King's Head to the Queen's Arms. The Red Lion to the White Horse. There's an endless list of pubs with either exactly the same name, or at the very least ones that are very similar.

Maybe it's a quirk and the rules don't apply here. Maybe it's a problem, and that's why dozens of pubs are closing each and every month.

If we were to believe one of my favourite authors, George Orwell, then the name doesn't really matter so much. That is, just so long as it's called "The Moon Under Water" – the name he gave his ideal pub in a 1946 article he wrote for The Evening Standard. He may well have been right, and given that he was labelled "perhaps the 20th century's best chronicler of English culture" by none other than The Economist (and as recently as 2008), it seems only fitting that the final word should go to Orwell.

"And if anyone knows of a pub that has draught stout, open fires, cheap meals, a garden, motherly barmaids and no radio, I should be glad to hear of it, even though its name were something as prosaic as the Red Lion or the Railway Arms."

Saturday, October 10, 2009

The power of speech

I read voraciously at the breakfast table when I was a kid. Cereal boxes, jam jars, milk cartons. Anything I could find to fuel my imagination while I ate my cornflakes. I wasn’t bored, I was simply enchanted by the stories they told or that I could conjure in my mind with just a few juicy morsels of information.

I wondered if Snap, Crackle and Pop were actually three distinct types of Rice Bubble, each with a different product formulation to create the right sound.

I puzzled over the ingredients in the jam, trying to work out which one caused the lid on the jar to shut so tightly. Did the natural sugars in the jam create a unique vacuum, and was it true that there was a special grip required, known only to a select group of fathers? (Luckily, mine was one of them.)

And I was always curious to know how “fresh” was the milk in the milk carton. Did it mean fresh this morning? Fresh this week? Or simply fresh enough? What’s more, my mother wasn’t one for brand loyalty when it came to milk, so all sorts of differently coloured cartons would make an appearance at the table, leading to a constant stream of bewilderment as we tried to unlock the intricate code that distinguished the homogenised from the pasteurised, the semi-skimmed from the full cream.

Fast forward thirty or so years, and I now find myself not quite as inspired by the words I read in branding. Sure, the responsibilities of adulthood have no doubt dulled the further reaches of my imagination, but that does not explain why every hotel directory in the world reads exactly the same, no matter how budget or boutique. Useful telephone numbers, dry cleaning details, room service menus and intricate instructions for internet access. Where’s the reassuring voice of the savvy concierge who so kindly scored me a table at that exclusive restaurant last night?

Buy flat–pack furniture from any retail brand, and you can only assume that they simply ran out of money when it came to writing the assembly instructions. You spend all that money on talking people into buying your brand only to find it lost for words when it comes to crunch – talk about having a screw loose.

Conversely, politicians used to bore me senseless when I was younger. But now, I’m pushed to find anything quite as exciting when it comes to the power of speech. Never was this more evident than in the gaping chasm that stretched between George W. Bush and Obama. Even the make-up of their names provides a clear signal of the tone you expect to hear in their voice. Stern, establishment and old–school on the one hand, open, inclusive and contemporary on the other.

In Australia, K–Rudd is continually looking to language to build his personal brand and cachet. Since the launch of Kevin07, he’s been hard at work trying to show he’s one of the people – a fair dinkum, dyed–in–the–wool, true blue, Aussie bloke. And when he used the term “shitstorm” on our television screens, it became a powerful trigger for reinforcing this strategy. Likewise, the s–word was followed by the r–word (“recession”) and the b-word (“billions” – when discussing the budget deficit) as equally powerful triggers for action.

Political speechwriters have always seemed to have the upper hand on the mere copywriter. Back in the day, when the Roman Empire towered above the known world, Cicero led the pack with his skills of oratory and rhetoric. He had a very persuasive way with words, to the point that he saw his role as persuading his audience to come to their own decision, rather than forcing a decision upon them. It just so happened that their decision matched his own more often than not.

Likewise, the fable of the North Wind and the Sun, as told by Aesop. The North Wind tried to prove his strength by blowing the traveller’s cloak from his back, a tactic that only led the traveller to pull his cloak tighter around him. However, the Sun shone so brightly that the traveller removed his cloak in the heat of his own accord. The Sun proved persuasion is a stronger ally than force when it comes to achieving your ends, and language is no different.

For me, words have always carried incredible power. Whether a spark for the imagination, a call to action, or the prose of persuasion.

Branding is no exception. It relies on both words and pictures to tell the complete story. Too often, however, brands are visually stunning but have little of interest to say. They are all too easy on the eye, but conversation is not their strong suit, and you can’t help but feel a little empty once you move beyond the surface sheen.

In fact, it is impossible to build a strong brand without considering the impact of words, starting with the name.

The name plays a pivotal role for any brand. More than merely the legally trademarked moniker, names send a strong signal of intent. And when done well, they can create a powerful call to action that works itself into not only our minds but also our mouths. We now “Skype” one another in the same way that our parents used to “Hoover” the house, and brands like “Virgin” are no longer synonymous simply with sex, as per their basic dictionary definition.

Nowadays, names are developing their own brand cachet to the point that they are even reducing our reliance on taglines. Over the years, there have been some great taglines that will forever be remembered by their loyal audiences, irrespective of the most recent campaign. Apple and Nike are both iconic examples of brands that worked a tagline to their advantage in building their profile and presence over time, but now they focus people’s attention purely on their names to build brand loyalty. Names are now taking on both roles, delivering a single, much simpler, more direct and, ultimately, more powerful punch.

On the other hand, directness can sometimes work to your brand’s disadvantage. The urgency of Nike’s “Just Do It” just doesn’t do it for many brands where service levels require a few more comfort cues.

I remember reading a great example of this in John Simmon’s book, “The Invisible Grail”, in which he wrote about the types of advert that you often see in the front windows of cafés – “Experience breakfast chef wanted”. It’s a fairly straightforward message to understand and act upon, but it reveals very little of the character of the café in question. With a little more thought for language and consideration for the tone of the message, another venue wrote this advert – “Charming, intelligent, waiting staff. One more wanted”. The difference, and therefore the impact, is palpable, and it’s this understanding of the power of speech that Pret A Manger employed when they wrote their own recruitment advert – “We are opening new Pret stores, one at a time, no rush. And we need to employ more wonderful people”. They are clearly able to communicate a fair amount about the organisation’s values through the words they use, helping people decide whether this is a brand where they would like to work or not.

When it comes to creating any call to action, it is vital to remember that the right words will always evoke the right response. Choose them wisely.

What’s the more, the right words can do so much to touch your audience’s emotions.

I, for one, love my coffee. So what better way to get me even more excited about great coffee than great writing that revels in the brand. Puccino’s, for example, is a family-owned, UK café chain with an exuberant philosophy that puts a premium on its off–beat personality and exceptional service. This exuberance takes flight on takeaway cups that read “Cola is for wimps” in scrawled handwriting. Sugar packs claiming to be “Pillow for earphones” or “Not one of those handwarmers”. Paper bags that proudly pronounce “Carrying stuff around is the new leaving it where it is”. And, my favourite, in–store posters that greet customers with these words: “Of all the coffee bars in all the towns in all the world, you walk into me”.

Not only is it consistently great copywriting, this is also real emotion. And, if you follow any of the posts on the various blog sites and feeds where this branding has appeared, you’ll instantly witness the warmth and connection that customers feel for the brand – and for coffee, their daily salvation.

McVitie’s Jaffa Cakes have also used an equally insightful tone of voice on their packaging in the past to reach out to their customers, playing up an envious element of the brand that meant people were often unwilling to share the Jaffas – the packs announced “This box is empty” and “Don’t even think about it!”. In the same way that Puccino’s ensured the daily grind was anything but routine for their coffee and their customers, so Jaffa Cakes decided that greed was good and they should relish the opportunity to divide and conquer.

In the corporate world, the power of speech was not lost on IBM when they came out of one of the most difficult periods of their entire history. “We decided not to die”, declared the first of their Sweet Sixteen decisions that transformed the business, and the 2001 annual report did much more than provide a report on a corporation’s travails, it told a gripping, “no–holds–barred” story of company fighting for its life – tales of “big battles, stinging defeats and gritty comebacks. Unexpected alliances, daring forays and game–changing discoveries”. Corporate jargon made way for a visceral tone that portrayed the simple emotion and sheer humanity of the transformation, the stories that sat behind the numbers, the people behind the pictures.

Language like this can reveal so much more than the individual words themselves. And for many companies, it can sometimes be the difference between life and death. It hits you right between the eyes and leaves its indelible mark, but it’s not the only way to work your message.

Persuasion is an equally powerful tool, as Apple found when they made a subtle change to the wording of their recommendations on the iTunes store – from “iTunes recommends” to “Listeners also bought”. The recommendations now came from people’s peers not the company, a factor that theoretically contributed to an impressive uplift in sales via this channel.

Amazon has always used a similar approach – as do a raft of other online stores – and this will only grow in significance in line with the various social media tools that now allow unprecedented levels of discussion in a public forum. Influencing those discussions may be more complex, but establishing an authentic and engaging tone of voice is a critical path to follow if you are simply to join the discussion, let alone influence the outcome through persuasion.

Brand and corporate blogs are still struggling to understand their role in this new media landscape, and having to rely on language alone leaves them feeling a little exposed. There are no logos to leverage, no visual cues to hide behind, no lectern to provide protection for the most sensitive areas. Words, and words alone, must take centre stage.

As I’m sure you must have realised by now, I love words. They have inspired and intrigued me since I learned to read and write, but it is their ability to paint pictures in the mind’s eye that gives them their special power. They say a picture is worth a thousand words – and I would tend to agree with the impact that an image can achieve – but what grabs me is the potential for a single word to tell ten thousand stories.

The brands included here, from Rice Bubbles to IBM, all understand their role as storytellers. And for a brand to attract believers, it must have something to say.