Pig Lipstick and the idea
If you work in an advertising agency, chances are most of your time will be spent trying to differentiate your client’s product from its virtually identical competitor.
Thanks to free market capitalism, if anyone comes up with a great innovation for their product that people like, it will be replicated by a competitor as quickly as possible.
Think about how much difference there is between a Nike trainer and one from Adidas. Or the distinction you have managed to perceive between the acceleration of a BMW and an Audi. The cleaning power of Persil versus Ariel. The taste and nutrition of Yeo Valley and Rachel’s Organic. The benefits to your cat of Whiskas over Kit-E-Kat. The refreshment of Becks and Kronenbourg*. The facilities and interest rates offered by HSBC and Nat West. The ease of use of Go Compare and Confused.com.
In the public’s eye there is no real difference between the products themselves, so people in advertising are employed to take something which doesn’t really look good to a consumer and make it look much better. Or, to put it another way, they have to spend their days putting lipstick on a pig. And there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s actually very helpful for the consumer to have something with which to differentiate the almost-identical things he or she wants to buy (the alternative is to be paralysed by the tyranny of choice). But for most days of an ad agency’s life it will be doing the equivalent of setting fireworks off near its clients’ products and shouting, ‘Hey you! Look over here!’ at passers by.
I can’t help wondering if this is what has given rise to the supremacy of the creative ‘idea’. Long before I started in advertising, creatives would be encouraged to look somewhere around the product for something distractingly entertaining to elevate it above its peers. Another breakfast cereal? Better invent a Honey Monster. Another pint of bitter? Better attach it to a no-nonsense person. Bar of chocolate? Drumming gorilla.
Perhaps advertising ideas are just necessities born from homogenisation.
Some brands create moments of utter beauty to take the lipstick to a whole new level of exaggerated distraction (how safe is a tiny little Polo?):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XEVvlyHQVjs
Of course, this is why we have brands, those formless, abstract essences of one company that supposedly distinguish it from another. But it’s funny when you think about the extent to which billions of pounds and millions of people are employed in the art of applying make-up to farmyard animals.
The very rare times that a product is amazing and persuasively attractive in its own right, as well as somewhat unique, you’ll most likely see that reflected in advertising as a form of well-crafted product demonstration (e.g. Dyson). Everyone else proves the maxim that if you don’t have anything good to say about yourself, say it about something else (that’s not really a maxim; I just made it up).
*Of course, there are slight differences in taste between beers and between chocolate bars etc., but I would argue that the taste must be incredibly close, otherwise the ads wouldn’t concentrate so much on anything but the product.
Nice post Ben.
So agencies apply lipstick to a pig and then the number crunchers weigh the pig. The thicker the lipstick the heavier the pig?
It’s a lot easier (maybe profitable too) to make, and distribute mediocre products.
Mediocrity needs a lot of lipstick, and the main ingredient for it is overpromise… followed by underdeliver, disappointment, depression, and death.
If you can’t polish the turd then have a go at rolling it in glitter….
I love that Dyson Ball commercial… and the Dyson Ball that I went out and bought because of the convincing ad.
We’d like the chance to experience the differences between Whiskas and Kit-E-Kat, as a change from that stupid lumpy Science diet. Tyler thinks Kit-E-Kat is chocolate.
I bought the Dyson Ball and it was a bit shit. I think it allowed blokes to buy Hoovers with pride because it was a all technological and that.
Apple just show you the product and give you a bit of a demo. You then think, ‘holy moley’ that is hench (or equivalent) and desire it hugely.
At this very moment I am working on a brief to show how a giant, filthy rich, meta-corporation, really ‘cares’ about everything it does for its customers. The pig is enormous, I have applied lippy, mascara and am now busily rouging…
The pig will shag me tomorrow.
Tyler and Dave: I’m sorry I haven’t changed your litter in a few days, but you’re stuck with the food.
Nice post, thanks.
I do think however, there are quite a few (more or less) generic brands that can still survive pretty much without a creative concept in their advertising.
The trick is to create and then stick with a simple, yet distinctive and instantly recognisable way of showcasing their product.
Gap and Apple are two that spring to mind.
I’d put Apple in the Dyson camp: Mac vs PC means their computers are marked out as being completely different to the competition; you always hear their phones referred to as iPhones, not mobiles; the iPad has yet to come up against anything really comparable.
Gap… not so sure.
There was a time when it was said of beer that people ‘drank the advertising’. The ads were pretty much the only differentiating element in the sector.
That adage applies to so many sectors today – where competitive product advantage (assuming there even was any in the first place) lasts for months (weeks? days??).
I think Gap is a good example of a brand that has suffered exactly because it doesn’t have an advertising voice. It was a success because it did exactly what it said on the tin – it exploited a Gap in the market.
The ads were different – but only in a ‘they don’t look like conventional ads’ kind of way. Other brands piled into the market. The ‘gap’ in the market doesn’t exist anymore. And the brand doesn’t have a distinctive advertising voice that could help it fend off the likes of Uniqlo etc etc.
At my local recycling centre (don’t you dare call it ‘the dump’) there stands the serried ranks of abandoned Dysons. No other brand comes even close to the number of these machines that get tossed out. Why is that I wonder…?
Is it true that C&A split their moniker on women’s knickers or is that just an urban myth?
Mr. Gash, let me tell you why you see so many dysons tossed out: they are fucking crap.
I bought one. looked snazzy etc. then it dawned on me. if there’s no bag, and there isn’t one, how the f**k does it trap the allergens? answer: it doesn’t. cough, cough.
and in case that wasn’t bad enough, when you empty the fucking thing ALL the allergens you’ve vacuumed up are released into your face in cloud form.
a classic case of the emperor’s new clothes. but the dyson guy is so smugly confident that we buy it.
sidenote: wasn’t he the guy who invented that stupidly mobile wheelbarrow that was on Tomorrow’s World in the 80s? he even incorporated that technology into the dysons. you know the “ball” technology. like hoovering is Rally driving. Pfft!
It’s amazing to me how such a seemingly simple thing as advertising a product or service has become so complicated (leverage, platform, territory, stradegy, insight, netizen, conversation, impact analysis, brand value, value stream, atribution and so on and so on and fucking on). I presume it’s because so many people’s mortgage payments depend on the process being nigh on impossible.
I hate marketing people but I like being a copywriter. And never the twain will meet. Just don’t give me a pistol.
But Vinny – the chance to wear those weird backless driving gloves is the only thing that makes housework bearable…..