The continentalisation of the UK

When I was a small child, in the 1960s, people spoke about “The Continent”, meaning mainland Europe. A person, a foodstuff, an attitude, was described as “continental”, in a sligtly disapproving tone,  meaning unusual and a little racy on the one hand, but “not quite what we do around here” on the other.

From an early age, I was fascinated by “The Continent” and all the treasures it might hold, approved-of or not. I blame Caroline and her Friends. For those who’ve never had this delight, Caroline was a bossy little girl accompanied by a menagerie of dogs, cats (domestic and Big) and a lone bear. This motley crew got into all kinds of scrapes, going camping, on ski holidays, or touring around “The Continent” - stuffing themselves with spaghetti or Belgian Frites, hurling Dutch cheeses around or playing Alphorns. I have imitated much of this behaviour throughout the course of my life. 

Some of my earliest food-related memories relate to finding unusual brands and products in slightly obscure places. There was this cafe and health food shop just down the road from us, for example:

Deborah’s was a vegetarian cafe and sold Birchermüsli as well as breakfast products such as Frugrains - which I can still taste - datey.

It wasn’t long, of course, before muesli became big business in the UK, with the launch of Alpen in 1971. Ski yoghurt - another “continental idea” which took a while to catch on, had been launched in the 1960s.

As well as the quirky Deborah’s, I remember the glorious smell of coffee roasting in a shop called Brimson’s in Camberley, and the first time I tried a croissant (from a “Continental” bake shop in Reading) - all very Proustian. Then there were the expeditions to a “delicatessen” in Ascot, mainly so my mum could buy the products she remembered from Canada - Betty Crocker and Aunt Jemima. This wonderful emporium sold exotic cocktail snacks, such as ROKA cheese biscuits. I see the packaging design has hardly changed, although I think they used to come in a tin.

All this continentalisation culminated in a coach trip around Europe, maybe following in Caroline & Co.’s foot- and pawprints. Here, I got to know even more continental culinary delights (and some not so delightful) as well as duvets, dirndls and dobra veče (yes, the tour ventured into what was then Yugoslavia).

I’ve now finally booked a trip back to the UK, the first since we became properly Brexitted. 

I’m hoping that Britain won’t have become decontinentalised as far as food and drink goes, anyway.

 

RETROWURST: Children May 2003

 

Some of what I find while rummaging through my Retrowurst archive from the early 2000s could have been written yesterday. This month’s article, orginally written in May 2003, definitely couldn’t have been. They say that nothing throws the passage of time into sharper relief than having children and boy, that shows here. At the original time of writing, my son was 2, and not yet in Kindergarten. He’s now a chunky, beared six-foot-plus 20-year-old. There is precious little mention of technology here, and it’s worth bearing in mind that I had only purchased a mobile phone one year previously - a Nokia 6310. My son wouldn’t be getting his first for another 10 years.

Read on for a glimpse into a quaint, vanished world of childhood:

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I have just come back to Germany after a week in the UK and have been struck by the difference between the UK and Germany when it comes to Marketing to children, which is the theme of this month’s Extrawurst. 

 

Kindermarketing is a term that is almost unheard of here - in fact, when spoken, it is in very hushed terms and the American-English euphemism of ‘Marketing to Kids’ (normally seen in Comic Sans typeface, often with a ‘z’ replacing the ‘s’) is used. Of course, we do this in the UK too, and I’ve often wondered whether the usage of this term calms our conscience a little - ‘Kids’, especially with a ‘z’ conjures up cartoony figures with skateboards and baseball caps worn at odd angles who certainly seem streetwise enough to be marketed to, while ‘children’ evokes visions of Janet & John in Startrite shoes.

 

Whatever we choose to call it, markets and marketing with the under 12s in mind are simply less developed here in Germany. The most obvious manifestation is maybe clothes. In the UK, you can walk into Mothercare, Woolworths or M&S and it is impossible to find a pair of pyjamas or a T-Shirt without Bob the Builder or Barbie on it. ‘Traditional’ means Mickey Mouse. In Germany, it is the exception to find such things. Right up to the age of about 8, sweatshirts (if they have a design at all) may have a picture of a Teddy Bear (NOT the Disney Winnie the Pooh or even Paddington, but an unknown, unbranded Teddy) or a pony (no, not one of those pink, lilac and turquoise horrors, but a real, brown pony). In the supermarkets in the UK, the shelves are full of child-orientated products, be it breakfast cereals with marshmallows in, special small bananas branded Blue Parrot Café or similar by the retailer, bubble-baths in every imaginable fruit flavour or birthday cakes representing every TV character you’ve heard of. And this is on top of everything to be found in the traditional child categories such as sweets and toys. In Germany, these things barely exist. In a quick scout round the supermarket today, I found only a modest display of cereals (mostly Kellogg’s), certainly no fruit specially packed at all (let alone for children), one rather unimaginative children’s shower gel and only one cake (a deep frozen thing) that was child-orientated.

 

Children’s television does exist - indeed, there are whole channels devoted to it, but there are very few original German programmes. Most of it is imported from the US and UK, with such series as Sesame Street, Tweenies or Teletubbies dubbed into German (although with the latter, it’s questionable whether this is worth the production costs!) for the younger ones and then the usual cartoon offerings for school-age children. However, especially for pre-school children, there simply isn’t the structure and (dare I say it?) educational value that you get in the UK. The programmes are thrown together, with no link with a relatively educational programme for under-5’s followed by a loud action cartoon for over-7’s.

 

It does seem rather a shame that the country that produced such children’s classics as Struwelpeter and Grimm’s Fairy tales is now rather pedestrian in terms of children’s books. While books for pre-school children in the UK tend to be very colourful, imaginative and often funny, German books for this age-group tend to fall into two categories: the dreary realistic and politically correct (typical is a book I got out of the library recently for my son, who is nearly 3, on rubbish and recycling!) or nostalgic over-sentimental (woodland creatures and elves).

 

Now of course, there is a reason for all of this, which occurred to me when I was talking to a friend of mine, a Doctor with boys aged 3 and 4. She said that it is all to do with the German belief that childhood innocence is ‘sacred’ and there is a strong urge to preserve and protect this innocence for as long as possible. Once I thought about this, everything seemed to fall into place. This is the reason that miniature adult or teenage clothes, such as denim jackets, are not overly popular here for babies and toddlers, who are kept in woolly romper suits for as long as possible. This is the reason that, for a child’s birthday party, a mother will bake cakes herself (with maybe a few Smarties in the icing being the only concession to commercialism) rather than buying a ready-made Thomas or Barbie cake. This is also the reason behind the school system, where, although children go to Kindergarten from age 3 to 6, they do not begin to learn reading and writing (elements of the cruel adult world) until they go to school at the age of 6. Interestingly, most children are only at school until lunchtime right up to age 19. Someone (the mother) is expected to pick them up, give them a cooked lunch and help them with their homework. It also explains the strange (to me) phenomenon when I first came to Germany of interviewing ‘young students’ for trainee posts who were of an age where they’d be running a company in the UK!

 

The implication of all of this for brands and marketing is not that we should give up on marketing to children in Germany but rather that we should acknowledge the cultural differences that exist and be a little careful not simply to transfer concepts and ideas that work in the UK. Although the job is a little harder in Germany, it is interesting by virtue of the challenge that it presents. Rather than falling back on the idea of character merchandising, perhaps we need to develop real concepts and new ideas that appeal to children for their own sake, rather than just a quick ‘sell’ through associating with an existing character. Maybe the dearth of German children’s characters provides an opportunity for a brand to create something new. And overall, the key is that the ideas have to have integrity. For example, there is far less ‘fast food’ in Germany - while they may not be wearing scaled-down versions of adult clothes when they go out to a restaurant, the children’s menu in most restaurants offers scaled-down versions of real food (Wiener Schnitzel, Spaghetti Bolognese, grilled fish) rather than the ubiquitous Chicken Nuggets that one finds in the UK.

 

Another huge opportunity that I see is for someone to launch a range of children’s toiletries here with the pre-school 2-6 age- group in mind. As long as it’s made absolutely clear in which re-cycling bin to put the containers after use and what precisely will happen to them as they are re-processed, it will be a winner.

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Thereafter followed a deluge of yukky gendered monstrosities in children’s books, clothes and toys - largely US and UK-driven. It never quite reached the sparkly, glittery, tweeness of those markets, although even IKEA and Aldi were at it. The pendulum is now swinging back, and I’m pleased to see that the German belief in sanctity of childhood stands pretty well firm.

Although one rather sad consequence is that those dreary realistic and politically correct children’s books now seem to dominate the UK market, too. 

Which brands do you want to cosy up to?

 

Back at the turn of the Millennium, it was called “cocooning”, a retreat from the 24/7 always-on world. It took on a Sacndinavian flavour in the last decade or so, in the form of hygge or mysig, with Instagram as a perfect medium to sing its praises. And it has been the over-riding trend and desire throughout the pandemic - and quite possibly something some people will be reluctant to move away from as the outside world re-opens. Indeed, it wouldn’t surprise me at all if workplaces become more homely once the workers return. Like kindergartens that allow children to bring one special soft toy or security blanket. When it eventually comes to Covid nostalgia - which it surely will - this word, this concept, will be top of many people’s lists.

I’m talking about cosiness. You can see its takeover of our world across fashion, across home furnishings and across books, to name just a few. The “cosy mystery” genre of the fiction section - those stories involving amateur sleuths in a picturesque community, with very little blood and gore to be seen - is selling like hot-cakes. Along with cuddly blankets decorated with pizza patterns.

Cats, crosswords, cakes, Christmas, crochet, cottages and countryside - all cosiness.

Cosiness is different to comfort. It is, if you like, a combination of comfort and joy as the song goes. While comfort is often sought to right a wrong, or can simply be the absence of unpleasant feelings, cosiness is a positive choice.

Cosiness is about free will, not a reaction to being victimised in some way.

Cosiness is very much about the senses, especially the sense of touch.

Despite the ubiquity of cosiness around us, there are very few brands that expound cosiness as a value. Maybe it’s because of the ubiquity, maybe because marketing people feel cosiness is too fluffy, not dynamic enough, not lofty enough.

But I think it would be a welcome alternative to all those rather high-powered brand purposes, tiring-sounding manifestoes, and being preached to.    

Planting a change

 

Last year, I wrote about the (warning - horrible word) mainstreamising of plant-based/Vegan products, that I reckon is being driven partly via the connection to sustainability.

The trend doesn’t seem to be slowing, and there are plenty of start-up (ish) brands following Oatly’s example and being all activisty about farting (or is it burping?) cows.

But this is no way to go if you’re a mainstream brand that makes its money by churning out meat or dairy-based products at scale. On this note, it will be interesting to see how Ben & Jerry’s  develops in light of a potential clash between social and environmental activist factions. 

There are some examples in fast-food that get it right: Burger King, with its unapologetic Rebel Whopper.  McDonald's are hot on their heels with McPlant. And Dunkin’ Donuts, who seem to be introducing plant-based donuts at scale. At least in the Low Countries.

And there are a couple of useful studies I’ve come across that mainstream brands can use as a framework for encouraging people to eat more plant-based food, or any other aspect of healthy & sustainable living. There’s this recent one from Globescan, which describes 7 Unlocks (another ghastly word, but the idea is good) - make it:

affordable

credible

shine

yes ... and

easy

meaningful

big

This is all echoed in a report from last year, from the Behavioural Insights Team - Menu for Change which emphasised:

make it appealing

make it normal

make it easy

I’d add to all that: make it about choice, and treat people like the adults they are. Often a meal or eating together is about socialising, and can create common ground.

Although we may not want “what she’s having”, we can all agree to enjoy our burgers, donuts, pizzas or whatever without thrusting personal preferences (literally) down each other’s throats.

RETROWURST: ALDI April 2003

 

The next in the Retrowurst series, articles written in the early 2000s from a recently-exported Brit’s point of view, is this piece. It relates my early forays into Aldi and was written - wait for it - on an Aldi PC that cost DM (what were they?) 1,000 or thereabouts. Did I think Aldi would catch on in the UK? Come in and find out. (Or was that another German retailer?)

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For this month’s Extrawurst, I’d like to turn my attention to two octogenarian German brothers - Theo and Karl Albrecht. If they sound somewhat unpromising, let me just throw in the fact that they achieved third place on Forbes’ list of the world’s richest people last year and are valued at around US$ 28 bn. The Albrecht brothers (who, incidentally, make Charles Saatchi look positively camera-hungry - the latest photos of them available to the press are 20 years old) started their retail operation over 50 years ago - Albrecht Discount or Aldi as we all know it.

 

The standing of Aldi in Germany is very different to that in other countries such as the UK. According to a study by Young & Rubicam in 2000, Aldi is the best- known brand name in Germany. This is a pretty good achievement, given that the brothers have never given as much as a pfennig to any advertising agency throughout the history of Aldi. It is estimated that 85% of the German population shop at Aldi. This, of course, cuts across the entire age, social and ethnic spectrum although there is one particular group who are the focus of the media attention at the moment.

 

Germany has an unemployment problem and, in comparison to the ‘traditional’ demographic profile of the unemployed (lower education level, older); the ‘new’ unemployed in Germany includes many well-educated professionals in the 25-45 age group who were working in the media, communication or academic field. This has given birth to the idea of ‘Discounter Mode’, where it is positively hip to be seen carrying an Aldi bag. Some of the cleverest and most talked about advertising campaigns in Germany at the moment are for retailers, based 100% on a price strategy. (Geiz ist Geil or Stinginess is Fab/Brill/Hot is the slogan for electronics retailer Saturn, with TV and film personalities happy to be snapped by the gossip press carrying one of their carrier bags!).

 

Aldi’s continuing success has been further fuelled by this trend and I thought I’d examine my own relationship with Aldi to get some insight into the reasons behind this success. My first trip to an Aldi in Germany was a mistake. I went in there one Saturday lunchtime to get some potatoes, I think, as they had run out in my usual store. Even given my years’ experience of how dreadful German supermarkets can be, I was in for a shock. The store was packed full of pushing, sweaty people and looked even more like a warehouse than I’d imagined. I had done some travelling in the former Eastern Europe with my previous job and what I witnessed in Aldi could have come straight out of late 1980s Warsaw as far as I was concerned. I vowed never to set foot in the place again.

 

However, over the next few months, something strange happened. People who I liked and respected began to ‘out’ themselves as Aldi freaks. One friend who is an excellent cook confided in me that he bought the meat for his Venison Ragout from Aldi. My husband bought a new PC (on which I’m writing this!) for around DM 1000 from Aldi. I admired one toddler’s denim dungarees at our playgroup. His mother – a slim and elegant blonde with a fantastically rich husband – told me they were from Aldi. And at the pool barbeque of our friends the beautiful people who have everything, the delicious food and cocktails were care of Aldi.

 

This all surprised me. Had these people perhaps been in a completely different store? Had I just hit Aldi on a bad day? Gradually, through a combination of asking and experience, I learned my way into the Aldi cult. First of all, I had to rid myself of the idea of the Shopping Experience. Brought up on the UK’s Sainsbury’s, Tesco’s and Waitrose, I had to drop the idea that shopping itself would be pleasurable or give any sort of added value. You have to choose your time to go in order to get through it as quickly as possible. Interestingly, Aldi does have incredibly efficient staff and they are rather more highly paid than the average check-out person here, earning the equivalent of nearly £20K per year. Secondly, I had to understand that Aldi carries standard items and then variable specials each week. The specials are promoted (as an ex-ad person I can’t bring my self to say advertised!) via the ominous sounding Aldi Informiert which is an in-house produced flyer with, simply, the products pictured and the prices. This also appears in daily newspapers and on the website. As the specials are available only in limited quantities, queues form regularly outside before opening time.

 

In addition, you have to get used to the little Aldi idiosyncrasies. Cash only- absolutely no plastic allowed. You have to line the shopping trolley up exactly where the cashier can put things back in for maximum efficiency and you’re frowned upon if you start any time-wasting activity like trying to pack things into bags! The different names Aldi Nord and Aldi Süd have less to do with geographical location and more to do with whether it’s part of Theo’s (Nord) or Karl’s (Süd) empire. Apparently, they divided it up in 1961 - Theo wanted cigarettes and Karl didn’t - not for any philanthropic reason but just because cigarettes were particularly prone to pilfering and thus lost profits!

 

Finally, you have to get to know which products are good and which not. Most of the products are made by well-known manufacturers and given a name and packaging that are rather reminiscent of those copy perfumes that started appearing on market stalls in the 1980s. So the Ferrero Kinder Chocolate copy also uses the orange, white, blue and brown colour scheme of the original. In some cases, Aldi have established their own brand name such as Medion for electronics or Formicula for children’s clothing. And sometimes, the original brand name is retained, as is the case with Haribo confectionary.

 

And it is worth it! The prices really are amazing and the quality (usually) good. If you can make the leap of faith that the shopping experience is not worth paying for, you will be rewarded. This week, there is a ‘15 in one Multi-Talent PC’ which can burn DVDs, has Cinema-quality screen picture, acts as a video, radio, TV, music-centre and so on for €1,179 (£813) or a DVD player for € 99.99 (£69). There is a special on on tennis equipment with a Titanium Tennis racquet for €39.99 (£27.58). In the wine department you’ll find Champagne for €9.99 (£6.89), Cava for €3.49 (£2.41), Rioja for €2.29 (£1.58) or Bourdeaux (A.C) for €1.99 (£1.37).

 

I mentioned earlier that it took me a while to get into Aldi as a result of my UK experiences. This could be one of the reasons that Aldi has not repeated the German success in the UK. Or, conversely, I think there is a real opportunity for a UK-style grocery retailer in Germany. The shopping experience here is ghastly-that’s a given. Your choice is between ghastly and average price (Tengelmann, Real, Minimal) or ghastly and low prices, with a bit of Discount Chic thrown in (Aldi). But maybe it doesn’t have to be ghastly. Maybe Germans could learn about the Shopping Experience, in the same way that I unlearned it.

 

Maybe it’s an idea that Theo and Karl or their sons have already got up their sleeves. Watch out for Allux?!

 

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Well, Theo and Karl have both ascended to the great discounter in the sky, in 2010 and 2014 respectively, no doubt to swop thrifty tips with Ingvar Kamprad. As for plastic and cash, Aldi is leading the field not just in modern payment methods, but in sustainability, too. Who’d have thought it? And the UK? Around 900 stores and counting. Even more extraordinarily, the only Aldi TV commercial I’ve seen recently was a Christmas one where the UK Kevin the Carrot idea had been translated into German, with “Kevin” inexplicably renamed “Kai”. Unnecessary, in my view, as Kevin is a popular enough name here, although maybe Karl could have been an idea as a nod to one of the founders.

Some things go on much as always, though - this week’s Aldi  brochure features running shoes for €12.99, Campari for €8.88, Nordic Walking sticks and riding jodhpurs. 

Still, I have moved on from the Aldi PC, and the beautiful people with the pool and Aldi canapés have long since split up.

Dream-Pedlary

 

During the first wave of the pandemic, advertisers from retailers to telecoms, food to insurance, appeared to all have received the same script for their TV commercials, which was executed in a remarkably similar fashion worldwide: plinky piano music, an "empathetic" yet rather sombre tone, vignettes of human despair and hope, and a promise of "being there for you.”

Meanwhile, on social media, people created and shared their own entertainment: OK, there were plenty of mawkish poems, but much inventive and fun stuff too - horse-riding and mountain-climbing illusions created within the confines of a small apartment, toilet-paper jokes a-plenty and song parodies that most of us still have stuck in their heads. Which seems unlikely for any of those "we're here for you" ads, let alone whichever brands they were attached to.

Those few weeks really brought into focus the challenge facing the advertising industry today, which Paul Feldwick examines in his latest book, "Why does the pedlar sing?". Advertising is less liked and less effective than it was a decade or two ago. 

While many of those in the industry may put the blame at the door of the client, for not being brave enough to buy their edgy, disruptive ideas, Paul Feldwick asks the question: what is good advertising, actually? Is it the bold, kick-ass, "stuff that matters" that's celebrated on LinkedIn and at awards ceremonies?

The answer to this question is drawn from Paul Feldwick's previous book, "The Anatomy of Humbug" as well as a fascinating look back to the origins of modern advertising, 20th century examples from his own experience, and recent studies/works from Binet & Field, Orlando Wood and Byron Sharp: good advertising is popular, something people like and something that makes brands famous.

The book is full of good advice on how to develop - and even create - better advertising. I work as a strategic planner, and I found the idea of getting away from the "essentialist" theory of brands a good wake-up call: instead of theorising about brand essences in a Platonic sort of way, get down to a direct appeal to the senses through a brand's "distinctive assets". And let the "creative process" - if it can be described as such - take its chaotic, iterative, not logically-predictable course.

The book raised questions with me, which is a good sign. Is fame (in a mass-media, mainstream sense) different for niche or local brands? And how does the call for more representation/reflection of people's lives in advertising tally with a return to the fun of the fair, the cartoon animals, the wild and wonderful, satire and general nonsense? Not to mention the much stricter regulations and guidelines imposed on the industry?

Like "The Anatomy of Humbug" before it, "Why does the pedlar sing" is engagingly-written, with a good dose of personal experience and opinion thrown in. I'd recommend it to anyone who works in brand communications and advertising.

And once lockdown is over and I can get back to the UK, I'm heading to the Museum of Brands.

Unique vs. Original

 

In the last few years, I've often been involved in those conversations about differentiation and distinctiveness when it comes to brands and advertising. In the early part of my career, differentiation was the thing: setting your brand apart from competition by focussing in on some aspect of the brand - how it's made, a secret ingredient, what it can do for you, and how it can deliver these benefits better than any other brand in the category.

But things changed, and the internet happened, and a new genus called platform brands grew up, and lots of clever bods did smart analyses, and the point of view now is that brands should be distinctive, that is, to stand out via impactful brand assets.

I've been wondering recently, in a similar fashion, about "uniqueness". It was always my belief that brands should strive for uniqueness in their totality - to be unequalled - the opposite of "generic" or "interchangeable" and to emerge out of that cliched "sea of sameness."

But does uniqueness alone really do anything for a brand? I could create a unique brand but that wouldn't necessarily make it desirable, or relevant. Uniqueness is not necessarily good. It could be quite the opposite.

Uniqueness is like a statement of fact. It doesn't involve human emotion or judgement in a positive or negative way. A landscape or a micro-climate can be described as unique.

Now think about the word "originality". A far richer word, which has associations with the word "origins" and thus, authenticity. It feels fresh, newly-created, pioneering, not imitative, absolute, novel. You know there are stories to be discovered. A past, present and future. You say "Oooooh! That's original", but you'd never say "Ooooooh! That's unique."

We talk about "original thought", "original ideas". The human is entangled in the concept of originality. It's not detached, like "uniqueness."

"Unique" should mean unusual or remarkable, but quite often it doesn't.

I am sure that a unique new brand could easily be generated by a machine these days.

But an original new brand can only be created by humans.