My Sunday shop, statistically speaking

Last Sunday, I became the Main Grocery Buyer in our family for a day.

It's true that I spend a fair amount of my week with my head in the world of retail, but I have to admit that I rarely ever get the chance to experience a store as a happy-go-lucky, Sunday shopper.

Thinking about doing something is never quite the same as actually doing it, a point well-proven recently by a good friend who used his blog, Brand Habits, to dabble in the world of crowdsourcing with $150 of his own money – you can read about the highs and lows of that experience here.

And so it was that the whole experience was a real eye opener for me.

Quite literally, seeing as I spent most of the shopping trip feeling incredibly overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information that was being pumped to my brain by my eyes. So much so that my brain is still compulsively processing much of the data, and every so often I feel my hand reach out in front of me to grab what it thinks is a tub of Philadelphia cream cheese or some other sundry item from a shelf in my mind's eye.

But as much as I was pretty overwhelmed, I was equally amazed by the fact that I didn't return home with a single incorrect item (although I did forget a few things and/or ran out of time as my 18-month old son ran out of patience). However, as I scoured the shelves for what looked like stuff that usually turns up in our fridge and freezer, cupboards and drawers – without a shopping list, I should add – shapes and colours were the things that invariably guided me to the right item.

In fact, those semiotic design cues are the only reason that a shopper can make it through a supermarket in anything like a reasonable amount of time – and I give my full sympathy to any label readers out there for the amount of time it must take them.

As for my trip, I was in the store for 90 minutes.

In which time, I bought 98 items.

Which means, on average, I was putting into my trolley 1 item every 60 seconds.

No wonder I was feeling overwhelmed, that's quite a workout – mentally and physically – but one that would be impossible if it weren't for the role of design.

But that's not all.

In total, my shopping came to a total of $464.96.

That's over $5 for each and every minute I spent there.

Which strikes me quite a high amount for something that is meant to be built around a low service, value model. Imagine spending $5 a minute at a cinema or restaurant, experiences where service comes at a premium. (As an aside, feel free to check out this post I wrote about Paul McCrudden and his 6 Weeks project to read an interesting take on the value of the time you spend with brands.)

For me, those two statistics say it all.

On the one hand, the supermarket shopping experience is fast and furious, a flurry of split-second decisions as you charge up and down one towering aisle after another.

On the other, it's hardly a cheap way to spend your time with a brand that typically provides barely more than a large warehouse full of commodity-priced produce – I admit that is something of an over-simplification, but you get my drift.

As I write this, both Coles and Woolworths are locked in what looks like shaping up into a mammoth battle for our time and money after years of dominance by Woolworths. What's more, the launch of Thomas Dux by Woolworths and the store renewal program at Coles are both strong signals of what's to come.

After years of stack 'em high, sell 'em cheap, they are now becoming far more interested in how we spend our time, not just our money.

A healthy dose of insight

My wife is currently studying medicine – through Google, it seems.

Whenever she or one of our sons is sick, her first port of call is always to type some pithy description of the symptoms into the search field. That way, she can at least rule out any terminal diseases before preparing herself for discussions with her assistants at the local surgery. It all comes down to access to the right information – not that there's anything wrong with that.

But what I'm finding more and more is that the age-old adage knowledge is power is no longer true.

In fact, it's now more accurate to say that information is power.

And that, I think, is a problem because you'd have to be crazy not to acknowledge the gulf that exists between the two (as does my wife, fortunately).

Knowledge comes through understanding and experience, whereas information simply litters our lives, an often random sequence of data, symbols and other bits and pieces. Knowledge makes sense of information, whereas information on its own can often be senseless, unless of course you know what to do with it.

Which brings me to research.

Focus groups are typically the whipping boy for why research is so often so flawed, but that's too easy and obvious a target – plus, my friend Ingrid over at Aesthetics of Joy (the Christmas trees, remember) already wrote this article a few years ago that perfectly summarises the bigger issues.

But what frustrates me is the seemingly blind proliferation of information churned out by your typical research agency.

They can tell you what was said. In fact, they'll happily write dozens of slides in 8-point type, and even throw in the odd piece of Clipart for a little light relief – if there's space on the slide, they'll be sure to fill it.

But they can rarely tell you what it means.

They'd rather leave that to a mother of two from Castle Hill who you've just paid $80 for 90 minutes of her time to design the pack or write the tagline for you. Easier than making the decision yourself, plus you've now got someone to blame just in case.

Research has its role to play and there can be no doubt that the most successful brands are consumer-informed, but they are never consumer-led. If that was the case, then we'd all be riding faster horses, to paraphrase Henry Ford.

In the case of research, knowledge typically makes sense of information through insight.

But unless more research agencies are able to transform all this information into even the smallest morsel of insight, then my wife may not be the only one turning to Google for the answers.

On the record

I was rummaging through my record collection at the weekend, and it inevitably got me thinking about album artwork.

For me, part of the romance of records is simply a question of size – 12 square inches have always trumped the compactness of the compact disc. And from Factory Records and the work of Peter Saville to the team at Stylorouge at the height of Britpop, I've forever been fascinated with this pivotal point at which music meets design.

In the 60s, Warhol led the way with his multimedia aesthetic and the help of the band he was managing at the time, The Velvet Underground. And by the time 1969 rolled around, it made perfect sense to Mick Jagger of The Rolling Stones to ask Warhol to design their next album sleeve.

And so he did. In fact, here's the letter he wrote Warhol to brief him on the project.

Do whatever you want.

Please write back saying how much money you would like.

Take little notice of the nervous requests to "Hurry up".

Not exactly your typical brief, but then Jagger wasn't looking for your typical response.

And here's the result, complete with working zipper for that added touch of sexual tension (not that you can quite tell from the visual, sorry).

If it's true that you do your best work for your best clients (have a read of this post for more on that matter), then I'd certainly say everyone could do with a Jagger or two at some point in their career.

365 and counting

This latest post began life as a brief rant by one of my colleagues at work.

Something to do with the fact that Yakult – like so many other brands – are now positioning themselves as every day.

And just in case that phrase is simply too hard for us poor consumers to grasp, they've kindly gone to the trouble of placing their product next to other products that you might also expect to consume every day. In much the same way that orange juice brands like to put a picture of oranges on the front of the pack just in case you weren't sure what a product described as orange juice might contain.

And that was pretty much where my colleague's rant ended. Just another Friday afternoon in the agency.

But it started me thinking about how everything is now becoming marketed as everyday.

We're spruiked everyday low prices. Where everyday matters are the key to everyday living. And we're told to get our everyday money with everyday banking. Because every day is an adventure. Especially if we want to get everyday rewards. Or, even better, be an everyday hero. That's when we can enjoy everyday luxury. In fact, when you think about it, we're just part of everyday.

It's everywhere.

Which is ironic given that we're also being constantly reminded by our marketing masters exactly how time-poor we all are.

So what's going to be? Everyday, or just whenever we can.

Hello, is there anybody there?

A little over a fortnight ago, I had a very curious phone call.

It was the Managing Director of a packaging agency calling for a quick hello and my email address so he could invite me for a coffee. Nothing too unusual about that, although I did feel a little uncomfortable as I've never really met this person for more than 60 seconds or so – and even that was more than 5 years ago.

Nonetheless, I quickly drew up a list of possible reasons for why he'd want to meet.

1. He wants to hire me.

2. He wants me to hire him.

3. He wants to see how much competitive information he can get out of me about our own agency's plans.

4. He's read my blog and wants me to ghostwrite his autobiography.

But the sad thing is that we'll never know, because he never did send me that email invite afterall.

Up wallaby creek without a paddle

I've always found honesty a particularly admirable quality.

And the other day, I was looking in my local bottle shop for an honest bottle of wine when I stumbled across this brand, Wallaby Creek.

But what really caught my attention was a note from the winemaker on the back label.

I appreciate how you saw the stereotypical Australian label and didn't dismiss Wallaby Creek as another "me, too!" wine. We have three generations of experience and we think we make fantastic wine. Once you try a bottle we know you will see the difference. – signed, Rex D'Aquino.

I can't say I know Rex, but I'll certainly be on the lookout for more of his honest marketing truths next time I'm in the aisle – fancy reading such a brutal critique of a brand's packaging when looking to make purchase. Maybe it's an over-reaction to the time in 2007 when his company was fined for selling fake Scottish whisky, but I can't help but wonder if it's actually a question of not understanding the value of branding, even in a market as competitive as wine. That said, the wine industry is one of the most conservative, least innovative categories in retail. Ever.

Following clichés and category conventions doesn't do anything to distinguish a brand, leaving the product to become nothing more than wallpaper for the shelves. And Rex knows it. But Rex is a honest bloke and, at a paltry $5.99 a bottle, at least the price is fair.

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.

Incest is wrong, right?

It goes without saying that incest is ill-suited to the human race.

I don't just mean legally, morally or ethically, but more so on physical or biological grounds. The make-up of our DNA demands diversity, although this is also tempered by natural selection: successful characteristics become more popular over successive generations – a fine-tuning effect, if you like.

But diversity is key.

And in the words of those towering pillars of pop philosophy, Groove Armada, "If everybody looked the same, we'd get tired looking at each other".

So forgive me the slight exaggeration, but then why do so many brands look as though they've been designed by one of the inbred hillbillies from the 1972 film Deliverance? Why do they seem so intent of denying themselves the necessary advantages of diversity, opting instead to settle for more of the same?

In their book Funky Business, published in 1999, Kjell Nordström and Jonas Ridderstråle wrote about what they termed the surplus society. In their words, "The surplus society has a surplus of similar companies, employing similar people, with similar educational backgrounds, coming up with similar ideas, producing similar things, with similar prices and similar quality".

Sounds like the commercial version of inbreeding if you ask me. People who are so scared of being different that their anxious conservatism tries to eradicate our fundamental need for diversity.

In business as in life, it is the drive for similarity that is unnatural. And our need for diversity is no less a necessity for brands.

But in spite of this, a brisk stroll down a supermarket aisle quickly becomes a blur of swooshes and swirls as brands seemingly decide it's easier to copy than compete. In the profile piece that appeared in B&T a couple of weeks ago, I wrote that most of the Australian packaging industry think "it's acceptable to regurgitate the same old boring ideas, year in year out. Even the smart people I know...can't seem to help themselves". As unfortunate as that might be – and assuming the inevitable standouts – that statement's true. The same goes for a catalogue of corporate brands, from law firms to the world of finance.

We all know that incest is wrong. Don't let diversity die.

Just show me how to switch it on

In the past few months, I've been working on a few brand and product launches. From an agency angle, there's only so much you can do to influence the outcome as you tend to make recommendations more often than decisions.

Launching a brand is like giving birth. It's vital to remember that it's the start of something wonderful, not just the end of the most painful experience of your life.

But all too often when it comes to brands, people focus purely on the latter: let's just get it out there and hope everything will work out fine. Oh, and the quicker the better.

Job done.

But actually the job is not done, it has only just begun. Much like babies, brands do not function on autopilot. And it's not simply a question of switching them on.

Firstly, things change.

Constancy is a rare luxury in today's world, but too many people assume that tomorrow will be much like today. Call it myopic, call it a fear of the future, call it sheer stupidity, but change can often touch a raw nerve. "Launch a brand to last for the next 10 years" is a common cry, when what they actually mean to say is "design a logo and let's pray that nothing changes between now and the time I leave for my next job".

The reality is that change can provide overwhelming opportunities to carve out competitive advantage. Just ask any of the bank brands that have pounced on the weak and the weather-beaten to turn a bad situation into a better one. It goes without saying that the banks would have preferred constancy and that change has been forced upon them, but struggling against change is tough (if not impossible), and there is more to be gained from funneling the winds of change than trying to force them back.

Your industry will shift. Your customers will change. Your brand will mature. But will you evolve? Or will you simply stick to the brief, work to the deadline and, as soon as you have flicked the switch, put all your faith in fate and fickle fortune? I hope not.

Secondly, people have short memories.

It doesn't matter how many balloons fill the room at the launch party, pretty soon no one will remember the helium from the hot air.

Customers actually deal with change pretty well. They tend to take it all in the stride because they've seen it all before. The packaging has changed, there's a sticker screaming "new" and "improved", and all of a sudden, as a merchant, you've got a reason to score some extra shelf space in the supermarket.

But if there isn't a real and relevant reason to keep consumers interested, they will all too quickly switch off, or switch onto something more appealing. Brands need to keep giving people reasons to stay loyal and come back, not simply expect that past sales curves are an accurate reflection of future sales performance. The first impression that you make does count, but not quite as much as the last one that you leave them with. You only have to look at Nike to see how a brand can stick to the same story but retell it in so many fresh and different ways – and ways that not only stretch to new audiences but even reach out to new generations.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, brands live forever.

While a sale is simply a transaction, a brand is an experience. And experiences create memories – good and bad, fond and forgettable.

In fact, you don't really own your brand, your customers do. They are the ones who make the real decisions about whether you succeed or fail with every move that they make. They decide how loyal they will be, they decide between you or your competitors, they decide what they will tell their friends about you.

Your role is to influence their decisions. And it should come as no surprise that those decisions don't all get made at the very moment that you launch your brand. Far from it.

So that's it. You can't just switch on a brand one day and expect it to light up the sky the next. I know that sounds obvious, but then too often I see brands built to launch, but not necessarily last.