Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Attitude & Aptitude, Brand, Communication Strategy, Content, Context, Creative Brief, Creative Development, Creativity, Culture, Packaging, Planning, Point Of View, Positioning, Relevance, Resonance, Strategy
This is a shop near where we live.
Now I appreciate the above is basically an adoption of the TK Max strategy – reframing ‘random stuff’ to the joy of discovery and exploration – but I love it.
I especially like that it offers a far more compelling reason for people to keep visiting than simply saying ‘cheap stuff sold here’.
Now I get on face value, reframing is easy to do – but based on a bunch of effectiveness papers I’ve read – it isn’t.
Right now, the basic approach to a lot of strategy appears to be either ‘state the bloody obvious’ or ‘live in a dream-world’.
Logic or fantasy. [Though it’ll be called ‘laddering’ to make it sound smart]
But what I love about the Opportunity Shop is that it does neither of those.
What they’ve done with that name is take something inherently true and then convey it in a way that opens possibility.
Elevation rather than explanation … helping you connect to it because it doesn’t ask you to reject your perceptions, but invites you to interpret them in a new way.
It’s part of the reason why I loved living in Asia so much … because there was so much that operated in similar ways there.
When we lived in Singapore, there was a market near our apartment on Club Street.
A bric-a-brac place … full of stuff like single shoes or jigsaw puzzles with pieces missing. Totally random stuff.
But one of the reasons it was popular was because of the name it had … the ‘thieves’ market’.
How great is that?
A name that not only defines the weird shit you will find there, but also gives you a reason why you would want to keep going there.
A proper reframe. Not trying to associate with stuff they wish they were associated with but acknowledging the starting point of how they’re actually seen.
Emotional self-awareness rather than blinkered ego.
And that is why most companies get ‘reframing’ wrong …
Because they want to hammer home how they want to be seen.
So they repeat it ad nauseum … regardless of perception, reference, context or reality.
And the irony of this approach is rather than capture people’s attention, imagination and emotion, they kill it.
Pushing people away rather than inviting them in. Kind of like a lot of the effectiveness papers I’ve read.
Where I have to keep re-reading them to try and work out what the hell they’re trying to say.
What their idea is.
Why it’s right.
How it worked.
A constant stream of explanation which – ironically – never really explains.
And while I appreciate effectiveness papers require a lot of information, there’s 2 quotes that I feel everyone should think about when defining an idea, be it for an effectiveness paper or to get a client to buy.
The first is something we heard from a chef when doing research for Tobasco who said: “The more confident the chef, the less ingredients they use”.
The second is even more random.
It’s from ex-US President, Ronald Reagan, who said, “If you’re explaining, you’re losing”.
[You can read about them more here and here]
Think about those and you’re basically being given the rules to develop a reframe that can change minds, behaviours, and outcomes rather than build cynical – or just indifferent – barriers through rationality, fantasy or bullshit association.
Filed under: Attitude & Aptitude, Dad, Emotion, Family, Fatherhood, Love, My Childhood, Paul
A few weeks ago, I wrote a post about my Dad on what would have been his 86th birthday.
Paul – my best – saw it and wrote this to me:
“I know a boy who’s 10 feet tall, sleeps in the kitchen with his head in the hall”.
Now you may think, reading that, Paul has lost his marbles – and I get why – but what Paul had actually done was give me a gift.
You see that silly, little poem was something my Dad used to say all the time.
ALL. THE. TIME.
And yet despite this, I’d forgotten it.
I don’t know why.
I don’t know how.
But I had … and that’s why when I heard it again, it felt like I was running into his arms again.
Getting a big hug. A squeeze. A massive kiss on my ‘bonce’, as he would say.
Dad was forever coming up with these little silly rhymes, poems and songs.
Another I remember was his ‘ghost story’.
I can’t remember it exactly, but it went something like this:
The moon is a ghostly galleon.
Tossed upon stormy seas.
He knocked upon the door a second time.
“Is anyone there?” he said.
But all was still and silent, for everyone was dead’.
I have no idea where it came from … or why … but rather than be scared shitless by it, we used to say it all the time. Especially around Halloween.
It became a special, private poem that connected and united us in the most daft of ways.
Now I admit it’s not that long ago that I’d be devastated that these things – fundamental moments of my childhood – had escaped my memory.
But now I’m good with it … because not only do I get to experience them all over again – where they flood my mind with wonderful feelings and memories – but I get to discover the impact they had on others.
Which is why I’m so grateful to Paul – and my cousin Neil – for being so impacted by some of the things my Dad did, even though they were a byproduct of who he was.
Dad was a brilliant man.
Kind, compassionate, loving, smart and silly.
He cared … he was interested, and he was interesting.
Death is obviously utterly, fucking shit … but it’s funny how those little interactions you could write off as a childish or silly quirk of a meaningful relationship end up being some of the things you emotionally connect to the most.
The incidental things that you discover have become everything.
And while I never actually knew a boy who was 10 feet tall and slept in the kitchen with his head in the hall … I am so grateful he existed in my Dads head.
Who now lives in my heart.
Filed under: Advertising, Agency Culture, Chris Jaques, Collegues, Creative Development, Creativity, Culture, Hong Kong, Imagination
One of my old bosses – the incredible Chris Jaques – told me about the time he took his kids into the office on a Sunday. As he showed them around, they said,
“But Daddy, where are the other kids?”
He was a bit confused and asked them what they meant.
They looked at him equally confused because they were in a building filled with all manner of kid paraphernalia – from toys to magazines to pictures to weird furniture – so who else would be there other than children?
I love that story for so many reasons … one of which being a reminder of the importance of environment, either to encourage creativity or to protect it, but mainly for this.
Happy bloody Monday.
Filed under: Corona Virus, Dad, England, Family, Italy, Jill, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Childhood, My Fatherhood, New Zealand, Otis
So on Sunday, it would be Mum’s 92nd birthday.
Now of course, she has been gone 9 years … however despite that, I still feel deeply connected to her birthday so for me, that number still feels very real to me.
I often wonder what life would be like if she was still here.
I say that, because had she still been alive, I don’t think we would be in NZ.
When COVID happened, we would have brought her to us in London … so she would be kept safe, cared for and loved.
I would imagine it would have been quite the challenge to get her to agree because she was always fiercely independent … but apart from the fact Otis would have been the major draw card, the fact is that towards the end of her life, she had accepted she needed some help. Not much, but a little. Even if that was just so she had someone to talk to every now and then, despite loving her own company.
And if that was the case there is no way we would have left the UK.
If anything, we would have been more likely to move to Italy … so she could be back in her homeland, near her sister and nieces.
Not that she would have expected us to do that – oh no, she was adamant I had to live my life, not look after hers – but that was a [gentle] tension we endured throughout our time together.
Her wanting to look after me by never demanding anything of me.
Me wanting to look after her by being protective and supportive.
Fortunately, towards the end we had found a calmness in how we dealt with it.
She’d accept what I sent her, and I’d accept she’d do nothing with any of it. Hahaha.
I know that might sound like some weird kind of ‘truce’, but it worked for us and I presume many other families work in a similar way. Acceptance, compromise and convenience … not because it ‘keeps the peace’, but because ultimately, you know the other person is doing it with love, even if it’s not exactly as you wish/hoped they’d act.
My Mum was the master of seeing the love.
Or dealing with challenges with love.
I can’t help but feel we’d all be better off if we followed her way of living rather than the self-serving, myopic, populist, egotism that the world is riddled with these days.
While I’m glad Mum didn’t have to endure the challenges of COVID, I’d have been so happy if it had meant she would be with us. I’ve written before how one of the worst of times was – thanks to my huge privilege – very special for me. By that, I mean in terms of COVID allowing me to be with my family 24/7.
They may have been sick of it, but I utterly loved it. Treasured it even.
But the reality is Mum had died years before, which meant NZ became a real option for us. And what a move it has turned out to be for the family. And while we won’t be here forever, we have valued and enjoyed every minute … which is why on top of thanking Colenso and the country for making it what it is [which is Otis’ FAVE EVER country, hence I’m going to ruin his life again one day in the not too distant, but not close, future] I also need to thank my Mum for kinda making this happen.
Or said another way … thank her for looking after my best interests even when I don’t fully realise that until later.
What a human. What a Mum.
Happy Birthday Mum, I love you.
Big hugs to you and give Dad a big kiss from me.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Attitude & Aptitude, Brand, Context, Creative Development, Creativity, Culture, Dad, Design, Jill, Marketing, Marketing Fail, Paula, Perspective, Planners, Planners Making A Complete Tit Of Themselves And Bless, Planning, Women
I know it’s Halloween, but how I’m choosing to ignore it because I wrote this post ages ago and I can’t be arsed to write a new one to celebrate the ghosts and ghouls.
Hey, at least I’m being honest.
So anyway, I love design.
In fact, I would go one further …
I think design can see opportunities most strategists could never pull off.
This is not because my wife is one.
And some of my closest friends.
It’s because design can make the impossible, happen.
It can make a teetotaler buy alcohol.
It can make static images move.
It can make you want to pick up a specific product on an aisle of identical products.
It can open possibilities to people who have been denied for years.
And it can make you pay a premium for something that does exactly the same thing as everything else.
This last one is exemplified by something I saw when I was recently in China. Specifically this:
How lovely is that?
Yes, I really am talking about IT and mathematical equipment.
And while I assume the manufacturers are trying to attract a female skewed buyer – given its lipstick pallete inspiration [Don’t shout at me, I said skewed, not exclusively women because I totally appreciate the role cosmetics play across culture] – it’s such a refreshing change from the old, lazy, sexist and conformist ‘just make it pink’ bullshit that so many marketers used to think was the most efficient and effective way to engage the ‘female customer’.
Like this.
Or this.
Or this.
Or this.
Or this.
But it’s not just because it’s an update on the lowest-common-cliche we’ve seen – and still see – from brands. No, what I also love is the craft and consideration that has obviously gone into all of it.
It’s wonderful.
It’s refreshing.
It’s something I bet few planners would ever come up with, because one of the biggest problems we have as a discipline is our desire to reveal our self-appointed ‘intellectual superiority’ and frankly, creating a set of IT equipment that has been inspired by lipstick palettes is probably something the vast majority of us would see as ‘beneath us’.
And that’s problematic for a whole host of reasons.
From the fact we prefer to give answers rather than gain understanding right through to our motivation seems to be more about impressing our peers than doing things that actually change outcomes. Not in reality, but theoretically. Hence we read so many ‘hot takes’ about what’s wrong with work from people who have never made anything of note whatsofuckingever.
It all reminds me of something my Dad used to say, which – because I love the Lucille Ball quote about the same issue – I’ve paraphrased to this:
A person who wants others to know how intelligent they are may be smart, but they’re not very clever.
And that is why I adore what my wonderful and brilliant friend, Paula Bloodworth, recently spoke about at a conference when she said, ‘the smartest thing a planner can be, is stupid’.
Happy ‘trick or treat’.