Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Art, Brand, Creative Development, Creativity, Culture, Design, Great Ads In History, Outdoor
I love outdoor.
Well, good outdoor.
From the madness of selling glue to igniting football pride … there’s been some incredible use of the medium.
Or should I say, incredible demonstration of design.
But for years – we’ve had the opposite of that.
Poster sites being treated like retail brochures.
Where a brand crams in as many words, visuals and sales cue as is physically possible with the space available.
Designed to satisfy the sales department and board of directors rather than their audience or even the environmental context.
But recently we have started seeing a return to what great outdoor is.
How wonderful are they?
They say so much without having to say so much.
Sure, both of these examples are for brands that have a clearly established position and role in their particular categories – but let’s be honest, there’s loads of brands who have achieved that and still make utter shit outdoor. Well, utter shit everything.
But these …
Well, for me, they’re perfect examples of brilliant advertising.
Brilliant, outdoor advertising.
Singular. Simple. Striking.
It’s beautiful.
But more than that, it’s effective.
Demanding your attention rather than pushing it away.
Fuck, it makes the streets feel like a gallery rather than a supermarket.
I hope it continues. I hope it symbolizes a move away from the blinkered and extreme adoption of certain ‘for profit’ marketing practices, that are far more about holding your place within a category than rising your brand beyond it.
So here’s to those who choose to fill the streets with imagery that makes people feel something, understand something and get something.
Because if you’re using billboards to detail all the rational reasons why people should want what you do, you need to accept you’re basically admitting you don’t have anything people really will care about hearing.
I’m turning 55 this year.
WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?
How the hell did that happen?
The good news is that while I may look it, I don’t act it.
I’m not saying that, I was told it.
By managers of Rock Stars who said, ‘I was immune from maturity’.
And while they probably meant it as an insult, I took it as a compliment. I’m sad like that.
But the reality is, regardless how stupid or annoying I can be – or as young as I sometimes really think I am – I’m still closer to getting a bus pass than I am getting inside a tour bus which may explain why I often look at people and can’t believe how young they are.
Pilots.
Doctors.
Footballers.
Police Officers.
Hell, not that long ago I got on a plane that I swear was being flown by a child.
Seriously, they looked like they weren’t even old enough to fold a paper plane, let alone fly a massive real one.
Which is why recently – while reading about Nottingham Forest in the Evening Post – I saw an ad that has made me question whether it is more evidence I’m an old bastard or actually just another example of marketing bullshit.
It was this.
No, I don’t mean the funeral insurance – which was depressing enough – but the ad next to it.
The one that features an attractive woman who apparently is a ‘single senior’.
Now maybe my eye’s deceive me. Or maybe the woman in this ad is the recipient of South Korea’s finest plastic surgery. But how the fuck is she classified as a senior???
OK, it’s marketing and their track record of shaming women knows no bounds … but come on, when the hell did ‘senior’ become anyone over 30?
Sure, for a 15 year old, 30 is ancient-as-fuck.
And yes, the health industry labels anyone becoming a parent over 35 as ‘geriatric’.
Then there’s Chanel, who classify anything over 40 years of age as ‘vintage’.
But all those examples come from people and industries known for being fucking lunatics.
Whereas I – on the other hand – am not one.
Not really.
Which is why I can categorically state the woman in that photo is absolutely-not a ‘senior’.
Or I hope she isn’t.
Because if that was the case, not only would it mean I’m pre-historic, it would make me think the real reason Otis lives at home is not because he’s a 10 year old little boy, but because he’s actually an adult taking care of his decrepit old man in the last days of life.
Jesus, as Monday’s go, this one has gone especially dark.
So thank you Nottingham Evening Post. Asshole.
Filed under: Advertising, Attitude & Aptitude, Cannes, Creative Development, Creativity, Fans, Film, Jill, Management, Marketing, Martin Weigel, Music, Paula, Planners, Reputation, Strategy
Back in 2019, Martin Weigel and I were invited by WARC to do our talk, ‘The Case For Chaos’ at Cannes.
While it seemed to go down pretty well – despite me wearing a Louis Theroux t-shirt – we thought that was the last time it would ever happen and not just because COVID was to happen the following year.
However in 2023, WARC invited us to do it again, which – in my mind – was proof ‘long COVID’ was most definitely a real issue and it majorly affected people’s taste and judgement.
Anyway this time, the wonderful Paula Bloodworth joined us to present our infamous ‘Strategy Is Constipated, Imagination Is The Laxative’ talk.
Again, it seemed to go down quite well – despite me wearing a Rosie Cat/Sky Budgie t-shirt – but now we were absolutely certain it would ever happen.
And yet, despite their being no global pandemic to mess with WARC’s minds, they’ve brilliantly/stupidly asked us to do something one more time.
This time, Paula and I will be presenting a talk entitled, ‘Secrets Of Effective Strategy From Artists Who Only Live Creatively’.
In essence, it’s a talk about what we have learned about strategy from working with artists and how they have fundamentally changed our minds on how it’s done and what it’s capable of doing.
Now I must admit, I feel a bit of a fraud doing this, because while I have/do work [part-time] with a number of stupidly successful and amazing artists, I’m basically their ‘cat litter tray’ – doing any ol’ shit they can’t be bothered to do themselves or can’t be bothered to work out – whereas Paula not only works for the incredible Idris Elba fulltime, she is his true strategic partner … both in terms of helping him explore and fulfil his creative and commercial ambitions as well as being the CMO of his IE7 group of companies.
Anyway, our talk is on Wednesday, 16th June at 5pm at the WARC Rotonde Stage.
The premise of our talk covers this:
______________________________________________________________________________________________
Despite all its research, resources, technology and talent, why is the ad industry continually out-played, out-thought and out-innovated by artists with zero marketing knowledge, training or experience?
Based on first-hand experience, this presentation discusses the unique mindset of the artist and how this enables them to fulfill their creative and commercial ambitions in ways our industry’s over-reliance on process, research and spend rarely achieves.
With examples from artists including Idris Elba, Metallica, Dolly Parton, Miley Cyrus and Queen, ‘ Secrets Of Effective Strategy From Artists Who Only Live Creatively’ provides lessons every strategist, creative and marketing director can use to reignite the excitement, intrigue, creativity and commercial power in their own work.
______________________________________________________________________________________________
So if you’re there, come for the brilliance of Paula and stay for whatever tragic t-shirt I choose to wear on the day, which – if I’m being honest – will probably feature the words “Sorry Jill”, given I’ll be missing her birthday for this. Eek.
On the brightside, I’ve lost so much weight since I last presented at Cannes, people may think I’ve been on the Ozempic to fit in with the look of the celebrities we’ll be talking about – haha.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Age, Agency Culture, Attitude & Aptitude, Creative Development, Creativity, Culture, Emotion, Management, Marketing Fail, Relationships, Respect
Growing old is an interesting experience.
A mixture of highs and lows … good and bad … challenging and delightful.
It will happen to us all, but one thing that I have found interesting is how quickly the industry you have worked in – regardless of duration – is happy to leave you behind without barely a second thought.
On one hand, I get it.
+ Time never stops.
+ New people are always coming.
+ Fresh thinking and ideas are being born.
+ And your work only really mattered in that moment. To the people you did it with and for.
But it’s still tough when you realise all you did – all the hours, the effort, the toil, sweat, the successes, the failures – mean nothing to those still in the heart of the industry you work/worked in.
I have experienced this – or at least, I’ve felt it – and it can sting [mainly to your ego, hahaha] but what forced me to write this was a conversation I had recently with a friend of mine.
He doesn’t want me to name him, so let’s just call him Rich.
Rich – along with 2 close colleagues – started a company in the 80’s.
With their name on the door, they experienced huge success almost immediately.
Within a matter of years, they were one of the dominant players in their industry.
Better yet, they were seen as one of the most progressive, creative and innovative companies in their category which led to them attracting all manner of people, clients and press coverage … resulting in them opening more offices around the World.
For 20+ years, they were incredibly successful until one day, he and his partners decided it was time to cash-in.
Not because they weren’t passionate about their business anymore, but because they felt they were not able to run it with the energy they once had and that they felt the business and its employees deserved.
Fortunately for them, they were not only a highly desirable company for purchase, but they had an excellent ‘success management’ structure in place … meaning they were able to leave the place they founded feeling positive and wealthy.
All good then?
Yes … kinda.
You see, within a few years Rich felt the itch and wanted to start another company.
This wouldn’t be in the same field he’d worked in previously, it would be helping people who want to start their own thing.
And guess what, it flopped.
Not because his viewpoint had no value or his prices were too high … but because too few people cared about what he had done.
I should point out his company – with his name on the door – still exists and is still successful, but because he had chosen to step out of the spotlight for a few years, the industry he had worked so passionately and diligently in, stopped thinking his opinion mattered. Or in some cases, didn’t even know who he was or what he’d done. And instead, were hanging on the every word of whoever the new, young, thing in his category was saying and doing.
I should say that when he was telling me this, he was laughing …
Apparently the ‘icing on the cake’ for him was when he met someone at a conference – who worked at the company he founded – and he realized that not only did they not know who he was, it was obvious they didn’t care who had started the company in the first place.
Contrary to what some may think, this is not a rant against younger people in the industry.
Nor is it saying we should revere those who once achieved so much.
The point of this post is to remind people like me – read: my age – that we did exactly the same thing that many of us are experiencing today.
A desire to invent, not repeat.
A focus on what’s happening now, not what happened in the past.
A belief we’re inventing, rather than understand we’re generally just re-creating.
We all did that. Hell, some of us are still doing that.
So while people with experience/history may still have plenty to offer, we have to remember we were also all complicit in what we’re currently going through.
That doesn’t mean it can’t hurt.
Nor does it mean it shouldn’t frustrate.
But it does mean you can’t bitch and complain that others are basically doing the exact same thing you once did to the people before you.
So smile. Encourage. And know one day they will likely also discover the annoying reality that while they can [hopefully] feel proud of what they’ve done, they’re not as original or important as they thought/wished or once were.
Which is possibly the best reminder to focus more on what makes you happy, because at the end of the day, that’s what counts and is remembered the most, if only by ourselves.
Filed under: Attitude & Aptitude, Childhood, Creativity, Family, Mum, My Childhood, Parents, Technology, Television
I’m old.
Fucking ancient.
And yet, despite 1000’s of years passing between my single digit years and now, there are some things I remember clearly and dearly. One of those are the kids TV shows I watched growing up.
Not all of them, of course, but some.
Trumpton.
Campbellwick Greene.
Why Don’t You.
The Magic Roundabout.
Rhubarb And Custard.
Pipkins.
Mr Benn.
Mr Benn was one I particularly liked.
It was a cartoon about a man – Mr Benn – who would leave his house and visit a fancy-dress shop nearby.
Each episode, the owner of the shop would invite hum to the changing room to try on an outfit before ushering him through a magic door at the back of the changing room. From there, he would enter a world linked to whatever outfit he was wearing and go on a small adventure.
Each episode would end with him reappearing back in the changing room holding a small souvenir connected to where he’d just been and that would be it.
It was short, innocent and – for a 5 year old in Nottingham – bloody brilliant.
A window into other world’s and possibilities.
A chance to explore and imagine.
A taste of what could await.
I have probably not seen an episode of Mr Benn for almost 5 decades and yet it still has a warm place in my heart. If you asked me how many episodes I’d have watched, I’d have probably said hundreds … watching them either with my Mum when they were on at lunchtime or later in the afternoon when I was home from school.
So you can imagine my surprise when recently I saw this …
WHATTHEFUCK!???
If finding out Mr Benn’s house was a real place wasn’t amazing enough … I then discover there were only 13 episodes ever made.
THIRTEEN?
I am in utter shock.
I’d have bet everything I own saying I’d watched more than 13 different episodes.
Fuck, I thought I watched nearly all of that in a single week.
I don’t know if I’m more confused by the fact I thought I’d watched hundreds or that they only made 13.
Why so few?
It’s not like it was amazing animation.
What else of my childhood was a lie?
Was pulling a ’64 pavement slab wheelie’ on a Raleigh Grifter not really legendary?
Was Sarah Holtham not actually the prettiest girl in the World?
Was the Philips G7000 not really the cutting edge of technology?
Was the Argos Catalogue a compendium of tat rather than gold?
Were Hedgehog Flavored Crisps a bit shit?
I don’t know if I can ever recover from this …
Before I saw that image I thought I’d had a great childhood and now …
So thanks a lot Mr Benn, you’ve just fucked my entire childhood … but I’ll still go visit your house next time I’m in London.