Sorry to disappoint, but there’s no such thing as a future-proof brand design. It’ll never be something you can set and forget. But why would you want that anyway? Your company, your audience and the landscape constantly change and evolve, so fluidity to evolve your brand is natural. The good news is, there are a few ways you can set yourself up for success when you’re creating the look and feel of your brand.
Your hands are sweaty. Your heart, racing. No matter how many first dates you go on, it always feels like the first one.
Event marketing can be an extremely effective way to reach your audience. Typically, you can get a pretty good idea about the basic demographic information of event attendees before they even arrive, so it's a great way to reach drilled-down or niche audiences. Maybe you are trying to reach a specific age group or income level. There are a lot of ways your brand can capitalize on these attendees when they are highly engaged.
I think it's apparent that in marketing today we can no longer tout the "big sale" or the "new feature" and truly believe that our message is going to resonate with our audience. Heck, our audience no longer wants to be seen as an "audience" or a "consumer" or a "prospect." They want to be seen as a human.
Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. But, it’s a horrible brand strategy. You can’t own a position that another brand already owns in the consumer’s mind. And certainly not if that brand is a stalwart like McDonald’s. Yet, Burger King is doing just that: They are trying to beat McDonald’s at their own game. The most recent is the BK version of the Big Mac (Big King XL), but there’s a long history of Burger King chasing Micky-D’s.
One of the most memorable marketing strategies I have witnessed is Doan’s Pills. Many years ago they attempted to separate the brand from others in the category by claiming suggesting that their product worked especially well for back pain. Apparently, that Magnesium Salicylate Tetrahydrate knew just where to travel in your body. But, consumers bought the idea and bought the product too. Lots of it.
When I was 14 years old, my mom went on the Atkins diet. She was not alone. In fact, at the height of its popularity, one in eleven North American adults claimed to be on a low-carb diet such as Atkins. Good for all of those adults willingly trying to live a better life, but no one mentions the casualties. I’m talking about the thousands of children, like myself, who were forced to go without pasta and bread for months on end. Because when mom goes on a diet, the entire house goes on a diet. My mom, like many, held the keys to the food kingdom. This was one of the first times in my life that I realized my mother was in complete and carb-free control.
If you ever feel like pulling back the curtain on the process of some of the world’s leading creators across multiple industries, do yourself a favor and tune into the Netflix series Abstract: The Art of Design. More specifically, if you want to take a dive into the mind of a Graphic Designer, check out Episode 6. It features the life and work of Paula Scher. Unless you’re a designer or a typophile, you may not know who Paula Scher is, but you most certainly have seen her work. The Public Theater, Citibank and The Highline just to name a few. If you own or owned a vinyl record from the 70s, there’s a good chance she designed the type for it. The thing she’s known for is typography.
An elevator speech is an old-school term for a timeless concept. People don’t even talk on elevators anymore, unless of course they’re on their phones talking to someone not on the elevator.
In recent years, crises are no longer a question of if, but when. Research shows that companies today have an 82% chance of experiencing a corporate disaster, defined as a whopping 20% loss of market value, within a 5-year period. 20 years ago, the likelihood was just 20%, a consequence of the rise of social media and the open flow of information on the internet.
Thinking about my favorite Super Bowl TV commercial is really an exercise in futility for someone like me. I make commercials for a living. That means I look at TV commercials the way a sommelier scrutinizes a glass of cabernet. I’m a bona-fide snob. That is, until that one Sunday in February that caps the NFL season. On that day, I’m like a 16-year old watching a Victoria’s Secret made-for-TV fashion show: falling in love over and over during those ample commercial breaks. Every Super Bowl features a lineup of wonderful commercial ideas. I’m continually amazed at the best work, and constantly questioning and critiquing commercials that are less than effective.