She-who-must-be-obeyed

I seem to be on a bit of a "wimmin" theme at the moment. As I mentioned in my last post, I'm not normally one to get a bee in my bonnet about sexism but very occasionally I read something that grates just a touch.

The Marketing Society recently celebrated 50 years with a huge jolly and awards all round. The accolade for The Greatest Contributor to Marketing was taken by A G Lafley of P & G.

In his video acceptance speech, he reportedly referred to P & G's customers as "she", which was thought to be patronising by many of those present.

I'm with them. It may sound harmless enough, and may even reflect that fact that more than 50% of P & G's sales are probably accounted for by women. But there's something behind the deliberate use of "she" that suggests a whole attitude, which I fear still prevails at the higher echelons of the likes of Procter & Gamble.

However much they try to "embrace" the 21st century, social media and all the rest, you get the feeling that many of these companies would feel much more comfortable in the golden age of the 1950s when TV advertising was the brave new world and the "consumer" - the good little woman at home - prayed in thanks every day at the altar of the great household god with his wonder products that made her life easier.

Belittled Women

Apparently, "bizarre sexist adverts" are doing the e-mail rounds in the pre-Christmas flurry. The Times has pulled out a few of these to compile a "Top 10", on top of the 1001 "noughties" Top 10s that are already hitting the press faster than you can say "Millenium".

But back to the sexist ads. There are none I'd call truly bizarre. Most are quaint, not terribly good and nothing for any right-minded Mad Woman to get herself in a tizz about. I actually thought the one for Dormeyer was pretty clever and could work today if it was for beauty and fashion items rather than household appliances - with a heavy dose of irony, obviously!

That's the thing. Terribly earnest young ad people seem to think all this stuff was for real. I'm sure that much of it was tongue firmly in cheek, the Tipalet ad being a prime example. Can anyone tell me how this is in any way more "bizarre" or primitive in its idea than the Lynx/Ax campaign?

With my rucksack in the Bauhaus

I'm working on a branding project at the moment and have noticed the reluctance of my German colleagues when it comes to names derived in some way from the German language.


Of course, there are some very good reasons for this, which I wrote about a few years back here. And you can see it clearly when you look at Top Global Brands - those that use names like Siemens, Porsche or Allianz hail from many years back while relative newcomers go for something more neutral such as SAP.


It's also apparent in the playground where there aren't too many Gudruns, Brunhilds, Helmuts and Gottfrieds running around these days - the more "all-purpose European" names such as Lena and Lukas are more prevalent.


In fact, the only ones who are really allowed to get away with good old-fashioned German names are bands or fashion brands, where a touch of irony is implied. Or non-Germans, like the New Zealand production house Krafthaus - check out the ironic militaristic imagery and gothic typeface here.


German is such a wonderful language that it does seem that some German brands are missing out on an opportunity here, if it's all handled in the right way. After all, "Vorsprung durch Technik" didn't do too bady for Audi.

Defection

I've gone and done it! After twenty years on a PC I am defecting to the Other Side. Since Saturday, I am now part of the Apple lot, too.


I can already see that my technical defection is going to be one of those journeys (bleurgh!) that resemble my real defection to Germany.


There is the euphoria, the high when you make the decision and do it, followed by a period of intense frustration where nothing, but nothing goes right. Then you come to your senses and there follows a long period of learning and mastery before you finally come out at the Other Side, which becomes the new norm.


I am neck-deep in frustration as I type this - on my trusty old PC, naturally, and expect I'll be playing the Double Agent for some time yet.

The Renaissance Plan

The APG Creative Strategy Awards a few weeks back brought with them much discussion in the UK trade press about the Future of Planning.

And what a future it is! The official word is that "it's a good time to be a planner" and even that "Planners will be the creative directors of the future" (Giles Hedger, Leo Burnett). I recently received an email asking if I knew of any suitable applicants for a "Planning Gig." Planning, it seems, is the new Rock 'n Roll.

But we're not going to get by with our trusty old tools of the trade. No, the Planner of the Future is going to have to embrace (sic) all manner of new Planning Channels from Content Planning to Channel Planning to Cultural Planning to Behavioural Planning to Real-Time Planning (is there also Unreal-Time planning?) to Micro Planning to Creative Planning.

Gosh. I felt quite overwhelmed when I realised the enormity of what my job entails. And wondered if I'm going to be able to get to grips with it. But then I remembered various projects I'd been involved in - many of them in the last century. A portfolio anlaysis for a drinks giant done up to Management Consultancy standard but for no extra cost. A delve into neurophysiology and the human memory in a paper to disprove that "ads have to be recalled to be effective". An anthropological essay on mother and baby relationships and baby care in African markets.

It's great that Planning is getting itself heard and on the agenda and that's there's such confidence in the industry as to its future. But most of us - including Planners of the Past - have always been polymaths.

The good things in life still exist

One welcome sound at this time of year is the thud of a good old-fashioned catalogue in the post box. It all starts with IKEA, of course, while the leaves are still green if a little dusty.


Another retailer who operates via the catalogue as main purchase channel and who, like IKEA, have a well-defined brand and philosophy is Manufactum. This retail brand has been going for 21 years now in Germany and was originally started by a politician from the Green Party.


The Manufactum catalogue is a 400 page delightful traditional emporium. The company seeks out products that are made to high quality standards, with excellent design and usually made from classic materials. These are objects built to last. There is everything you could want from bakelite phones, to Swiss Army blankets to copper saucepans to Florentine paper to deer-leather jackets to wild boar pate. In addition, there are charming traditional toys such as the "bulldog" tractor above.


Manufactum is now owned by the Otto/Heine group but the retailer's brand voice and philosophy remains firmly intact. There are stores, too - seven so far and a new one opening here in Frankfurt on 19th November.


For my UK friends, I was also interested to see that Manufactum is now operating in the UK, out of Bedford. As they say in the english translation of their slogan, "The good things in life still exist". And that's a Good Thing.

One-eyed Vision

Being away for a week on sunny Cyprus seems to have done wonders for my productivity and simply getting stuff done. I've now been back over 24 hours and have not taken one peek at Facebook.

It's a bit like giving up smoking. If you see enough unattractive people busy with the activity in your giving-up period, it makes chucking it in that much easier.

On holiday, I needed to pay a call of nature while sitting outside a cafe on a gloriously warm evening. Upstairs, next to the loo, was the "internet" part of the cafe. One miserable-looking older chap seemed to be scrolling through emails anxiously. Next to him was a rather frumpy looking middle-aged woman tapping obsessively into Facebook.

As I walked back down the stairs to the beautiful evening outside I thanked the powers that be that I was not up there with them.

An even more grotesque case could be found at our hotel. A large, lumbering man, dwarfing the laptop that he spent his days hunched over, looked almost like the mythological Cyclops. I had to check whether this digitally-enslaved colossus actually had two eyes.

OK, he may have been a best-selling author, inspired by the beautiful scenery, penning his next. But I doubt it. To me he was, like the others, a poor addict to be pitied.

But I suppose if he'd been an Adonis lookalike, I may have found giving up a touch more difficult.