It’s a Chinese dishwashing liquid. It’s called Mao. (Seems potentially both disrespectful and insensitive, but who am I to judge?)

These images are amazing. It’s a campaign for a dishwashing liquid, called Mao.  I don’t want to get into whether it’s entirely appropriate to name a cleaning product after a dictator famous for, well, you know, cleansing, but the visuals are brilliant.

Take a bow art director, take a bow.


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Information is Beautiful – The Visual Miscellaneum

I’ve talked about informationisbeautiful.net before (in a post about the reality of Twitter’s numbers).

David McCandless is the man responsible.  He’s just released a book of his work, The Visual Miscellaneum – A Colourful Guide to the World’s Most Consequential Trivia.

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His work is brilliant (a couple of favourites are below), a great demonstration that pictures are, as rumoured, worth a great many words.

His site is here.  A pre-order link for his book is here.  It’s on my Christmas list (which is here).

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Another wonderfully pointless product – the Apostrophe, by Alessi

I’ve often used the phrase ‘he’s got too much time on his hands and too much money’. I have a good friend who has a professional putting green in his backyard, so that’s a fair cop. I have another friend who owns two iPhones – a black one he uses during the week and a white one he uses on weekends. (His argument, brilliantly, is that while black says, “Me? I’m all about business” white on the weekend says, “Keep your wits about you, ladies and gentlemen, because when I get going, things go orf’”.)

But this morning I discovered a product that redefines the concept of surplus time married to excess cash. I give you the ‘apostrophe orange peeler by gabriele chiave for alessi’.

orange peeler

I can’t do a better job of explaining its function than this, direct from Unica Home. (The absense of capitalisation is theirs. Some might note that this is slightly ironic, given the instrument described is named for a grammatical mark):

“apostrophe” is an unusual object that does not reveal its function at first sight. actually it works very simply: everyone knows that to peel an orange you need to cut the peel along meridians and parallels. the hooked cutting edge does precisely this, and its size determines a depth of cut that is attuned to the thickness of the peel and which does not nick the flesh. it works like an agile plough to cut through the peel, leaving marks that are free and even decorative. the gesture is also made pleasing, by the ergonomic hold that adapts well to the fingers and by the material in precision-cast steel with mat finish to improve the grip. “apostrophe” is made of two parts welded together, a solid hemisphere and the other part hollow, to give the right balance when in use and to rest in an erect position when placed on a table.

I love the assertion that “everyone knows that to peel an orange you need to cut the peel along meridians and parallels”. I would suggest that a bewilderingly small proportion of the population knows this. I’d go so far as to say that I have never met a single person who is aware that an orange is blessed with meridians and parallels.

It’s brilliant – $50 for an implement that takes a very simple task and makes it significantly more complex.  I think I’ve found the perfect Christmas gift for at least two of my friends.

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Mildly amusing word

Another in an ongoing series of the mildly amusing new words that can be created by adding/changing a letter in an existing word. 

Implanets

Implausibly large fake breasts.

More on Likeability versus Believability

I’ve been thinking more about yesterday’s post regarding the difference between likeable and believable.

My first job was at O&M. People daily repeated David Ogilvy’s exhortation that we  ‘interrogate the product until it confesses the truth’. This was the job of the agency, particularly of creative people.

But in the last few years the roles have changed. It’s now consumers who interrogate brands until they confess the truth. In a world in which nothing a brand does is ever really secret, the truth will always out. So our focus has to be on making executions that are believable. And the onus for delivering this falls to the brand (and the client) at least as much as it does to the execution (and the agency).

Maybe this has implications for how we treat Planning in agencies. When Planning sprang up it was about ensuring that there was a consumer voice represented in discussions – to focus on the reality of the audience. Over time this evolved to be about how we uncover what’s most interesting about a brand or issue, and how, hopefully, we connect the two via a brilliant creative idea. But maybe we need to be more focussed on what’s real about the brand, not just what’s interesting? (I understand that this is pretty cynical, and that generally they should be the same thing, but isn’t it true that the ‘substantiation’ or ‘why would I believe this’ section of the creative brief still tends toward the fictional in most cases?)

Because it’s a problem for the industry that we’re increasingly talking to an audience that judges what we do based on whether it’s believable.

They’re doing the interrogation. They know whether we’re telling the truth. And we’re in trouble if we’re making likeable executions on behalf of brands that aren’t.

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Is Likeability what matters most? I really don’t think it is.

I watched Mike O’Sullivan’s electthejury.com interview for the Andy Awards today.

I was particularly struck by his answer to the question ‘what keeps you awake at night?’. He talks about ‘likeability’ and the fact that the industry has moved rapidly from a position only a few years ago when ‘likeability’ was judged ‘in our world, based on the stuff we thought was really cool’ but that ‘now we’re judged really quickly through the media …we know whether people like our work or not’.

I get the point he’s making and agree that the spread of ideas is exponentially quicker, and the rate and volume of feedback is that much greater.  And he’s right that this requires what we do to be likeable.  There’s just no reason why people would choose to spend time with an idea they don’t like, and we’re all well aware that people do get to choose.

But there’s a parallel issue that I believe is bigger.  Because the connectedness that enables ideas to be spread, and feedback given, so rapidly also fuels a much greater scrutiny on those ideas (or, more importantly, the brands that deliver those ideas). So while I think Mike’s absolutely right that we have to produce work that’s likeable, I think the bigger pressure is to produce work that’s believable.

Increasingly this is the judgement that people make. While I might like the idea, is it credible?  Do I believe what the brand is saying?  That’s not a judgement of the execution, but of the brand delivering it.  It’s about what’s behind the idea more than it is the idea itself.

I think it’s hugely important because there’s a big distinction between the action that results.  Likeability means I forward something.  Believability means I recommend something.

But there’s an even more important distinction for our industry.  Likeability is something we can strongly influence. It’s what Mike does. Make executions that people like, by, as he explains, knowing what makes people laugh and what makes them cry.  A smart client, a talented creative team and a good agency makes for likeable work.

But ‘believable’ is a whole other matter. We don’t have very much influence on that.  It’s a client responsibility.  We can only work with what they give us, and if what they give us isn’t useful, honest, real, different, valuable, reliable, sustainable etc etc, then we’re kind of screwed. Because it’s not believable, and no amount of likeable advertising can redeem it. If it’s not believable people find out very quickly and share the news very loudly.

And that’s the worrying bit.  What’s changed in the last couple of years is that it’s increasingly about the truth behind the idea, and I don’t think most clients have caught up.  They still believe that they can fudge it, that big, beautifully-executed promises can hide a lack of substance beneath, that executions that are likeable enough can somehow distract people from the hollowness.

And focussing on making likeable executions lets them off the hook.  The pressure, and ultimately the judgement, falls on the agency.  Which, needless to say, is just where a lot of clients like it.

So what keeps me awake at night is the realisation that our industry’s ability to be successful is increasingly reliant on something that we have very little control over.

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I like ties. I like music. But I never thought of putting them together.

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This is almost unspeakably cool.

These ties are made from recycled cassettes tapes (combined with coloured thread). If you run a tapehead over them they actually play. They’re produced by Sonic Fabric.

If I could have a tie that played Yazoo’s Nobody’s Diary, that would be about the coolest thing in the world, ever.

 

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MacKenzie wants to keep lunch special. Good on them.

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I’ve been seeing this campaign for the last week or so. It’s hard to miss. I’m a bus commuter and MacKenzie’s seem to have taken over about 75% of the city’s bus shelter posters.

I think it’s a great campaign.

The ‘Keep Lunch Special’ platform works for me. I like the idea that lunch deserves better than to be eaten half-heartedly, one hand on a keyboard, mind on the afternoon’s tasks. Lots of brands seem to want to create a lofty goal or cause from something pretty tenuous – Toyota wants us to Believe, while Telecom wants us to Shine – but saving the lunch break is both completely relevant to the brand and seems like a worthy cause (a lunch trolley, if you will, worth jumping on).

I really like the fact that the site doesn’t do much. It states its case – lunch is good, sandwiches are really good, our bread is fantastically good – and lets you get on with life. No email subscription so that you can be reminded when it’s time for lunch or sent sandwich recipes, no user-generated ‘check out my favourite sandwich’ videos and no ‘I may be a slice of bread but please follow me on Twitter’ request.

I also like the art direction of the posters. They work as outdoor should. Nicely set headline, enticing shot, brand front and centre.

I don’t know much about food styling but this looks perfect. It’s odd how seldom food advertising actually makes you hungry. But this does. The sandwich looks chunky and wholesome and perfectly crusty.

I also think it treads the ‘rural mythology’ line really well. It’s not overdone. The clue’s in the name, the typeface is spot on, but it doesn’t remind me too much of Mainland. The whole thing is just the right side of rustic. (If you’ll forgive me, and I’ll quite understand if you don’t, a rustic bread surely must be crustic?)

There’s nothing flashy here. I can’t see any short walks in the offing, no high-fiving over a celebratory lunch. But I bet it works a treat. And if you know who did it let me know and I’ll buy them a sandwich (high-fives optional). I reckon it’s great.

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Parents were, apparently, awesome

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Love this site.  Just a collection of photos proving that in their day, parents were pretty cool. Like these two. They very obviously rock. (As did my parents, but this isn’t them.)

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Mini Boo. And the concept of ‘welcomeness’.

This was in Saturday’s Canvas.  I love it.  Laughed out loud, smiled all day and visited mini.co.nz.

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I can’t imagine there are many brands (of the non-confectionery variety) that could credibly align with Halloween.  But when your brand represents childlike fun, it just makes perfect sense.

It also raises an interesting point about ‘brand guidelines’. Every Mini print ad I’ve ever seen fits the same basic template.  I know a lot of agencies fight against such strict guidelines, believing they limit creative opportunity and signal the advertiser too clearly (the argument being that this just makes the advertising easier for people to avoid). Clients tend to like them because their research tells them every execution is building total brand presence. They also have much neater guardbooks.

I remember having quite a heated discussion with a bank on this subject.  It was launching a new product into a category in which its reputation was, shall we say, tarnished.  So we presented a campaign that looked nothing like the rest of the bank’s work.  The Marketing Director took me aside afterwards to express his disappointment at our complete disregard for the established brand guidelines. I explained our belief that, given the bank’s poor reputation in the category, it was best to focus people on the offer (one that would set a new benchmark) before highlighting the brand (one that completely lacked credibility).

I suggested it was as simple as being realistic about your brand’s ‘welcomeness’.

There are brands people welcome (Mini is one of them). If you’re one of those brands, make it as obvious as possible who you are.  Because people want you around, they want to hear what you have to say. They look forward to your arrival.

Then there are brands that are unwelcome (banks are many of them).  If you’re one of those brands, try to be a little more circumspect.  People don’t really want you around, so you need to be interesting before people have a chance to ignore you.  And signaling who you are before you have a chance to say anything interesting seems counter-productive.

Needless to say, the Marketing Director wasn’t swayed by my argument.  We re-worked the campaign within the brand guidelines.  The audience was scarcely able to contain its indifference and a potentially great product was deemed a failure.

All of which simply reinforces that if you’re not welcome somewhere, it pays to make it difficult for people to remember who you are.  The challenge lies in having enough humility to accept when you’re not welcome.

 

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