Copy Unlimited blog » differentiation

What you see isn’t necessarily what you get

Kevin — Fri, 24 Dec 2010 06:00:27 +0000

The downside of keeping up appearances

The other day, on the treadmill at my local gym, while watching Sky News, I was struck by something.

No, not a dumbbell or a gym shoe. But a thought.

Am I the only person in the world not dyeing my hair?

Now of course I’m not, but watching the newreaders, sports reporters and correspondents, you could be forgiven for thinking that we live in a world where grey has been banished forever.

Salt and pepa (and more salt)

OK, time for a little test – on me.

Here’s the photo you’ll see popping up all over my site. It was taken a few months ago, and (if you get up close and squint) it shows some grey hair:

Let’s indulge in some time travel. Fast-forward and we get this:

Now I don’t know about you, but I think that looks pretty distinguished.

I’m thinking George Clooney, French Finance Minister Christine Lagarde, or even erstwhile Chancellor of the Exchequer Alistair Darling (minus the caterpillar eyebrows, obviously).

On the other hand, I could decide that grey was a bridge too far, and go for the raven’s wing look:

Hmm.

East End car salesman? Dodgy geezer at Newmarket offering odds on the gee-gees? Desperate-but-loveable on a dating site?

I don’t think so.

Maybe instead I’d go for a halfway house solution, the preferred choice of newsreaders everywhere.

The silver wingtips that they hope that will make people think He couldn’t be dyeing his hair. If he were, he wouldn’t have grey bits on the side.

Oh dear. Now that’s just sad.

And the problem is that the greyer – or whiter – the wingtips get, the bigger the difference between the sides and the unnaturally dark top.

Cruella de Vil here we come. Not for me, I think.

The colour of money

And the connection with copywriting, marketing and the world of business? I hear you ask, weary after last night’s office party and struggling to follow my seasonal meanderings.

It’s simple.

Everything you do sends out a signal – including trying to appear to be something you’re not. It speaks volumes about your honesty, integrity and credibility.

The business equivalent of a hint of a tint might be:

Pretending your company is bigger than it is (we, we, we).
Claiming the offer is free when it’s actually free*.
Talking about a product that’s worth X so that Y seems a really good deal by comparison.
Dodging responsibility for a problem that’s clearly of your making.
Talking in a language that overblown, larding it with marketing hype and a generous dollop of business buzzwords.

And the solution? Well you could try to:

Be yourself (people might just like you).
Humanise your company (people might just like it).
Admit your mistakes (the sky won’t fall in).
Not conceal yourself behind pompous circumlocutions and grandiloquent expressions (like those ones). Talk normal.

And remember, if everybody else is coming over all black-and-silver-wingtips, being different can set you apart. Keeping up appearances and doing a me-too means you blend in with the pack.

The bottom line? It’s OK to be grey (as long as you’re not dull, that is).

And if you’re still not convinced, here’s one last test. Santa A or Santa B?

Thought so.

Merry Christmas.

P.S. Is it just me, or do you start humming Nessun dorma when you look at B?

Touch it, see it, taste it

Kevin — Fri, 01 Oct 2010 06:00:17 +0000

Getting hands-on, seeing the light and losing the attitude

Where’s the year going? It’s Copycam time again. Who would have thought it?

I’ve been snapping away with my trusty Nokia when cheeky marketing, bright ideas and clever copy tickle my fancy.

So what’s tickled?

Touchy feely

When I was in London recently, I dropped in on the new Apple store in Covent Garden.

I’ve been there before – or rather, I’ve been to what was there before before. The folks from Cupertino, you see, took over a restaurant and refitted it to create the world’s largest Apple store.

Before you start lamenting the loss of another eatery in the maw of a voracious multinational, let me tell you that as a restaurant, it was never that good.

I ate there once, and it was a classic West End tourist trap: overpriced, bad food, even worse service. And punishingly hot patio-heaters that made me feel like I was in a sauna.

Once was enough.

So out with the cheesy pizzas and glutinous pasta, and in with a big helping of Apple.

And what a feast: iPods, iPads, iTouches and Macs appetisingly laid out for punters to taste test.

Which I did. And I almost ended up buying a new Nano. And an iPhone 4. And an iPad.

And then I remembered my resolution not to snack between meals. But the takeaway wasn’t lost on me.

Lesson 1: let people try out your product or service. Nothing, but nothing, you say can conjure up the feeling of really letting them have a go. So let them have a go.

Switch and bait

How do you feel about low-energy light bulbs?

Yes, me too. I know I should like them, but I don’t. That deathly greenish glow they emit, combined with the odd shapes they come in, is enough to put me off.

In addition, you can’t dispose of them as you would with normal waste. Instead, the advice is to go to the local dump and put them in a special skip.

Except my local dump is four miles away, and I’d have to drive. So there’s my low-carbon footprint gone up in smoke.

Also, if you break them, the recommendation from the Department of the Environment is to vacate the room for 15 minutes.

So dangerous and difficult to dispose of? My politically incorrect attitude is looking more sensible by the minute.

And I’m obviously not alone. Now that the EU has banned 100w incandescent bulbs, they’ve become a sought-after item.

Which a lighting shop down the road from me has realised.

So an otherwise unprepossessing shop on a busy road with no parking has found a clever hook to attract customers. Who might just buy something else.

You pop in for a light bulb – and come away with a light bulb and a rather expensive Art Deco lamp.

Clever.

Lesson 2: find a difference. Shout it from the rooftops.

Hola boys

Time and time again, I have to tell people to lighten up. In their attitude to the written word, that is.

Yes, we’re serious businesspeople – all of us. And no, insurance-premium tax or IT support or web security isn’t a laughing matter.

But that doesn’t mean that you have to go all formal on people. After all, which would you respond more to in a meeting – a starchy, unsmiling, sanctimonious suit or an open-collar, first-name smiler?

As long as the smile was backed up by bright ideas, solid solutions and good service, it’s a no-brainer.

People do business with people, not businesses. And what’s more, with people they like.

Like those cheeky chappies at Nanna Mexico, an eatery in Cambridge that probably doesn’t have an apple in sight.

Big ass burritos. Don’t you just want one? A big burrito, I mean, not…well you get my drift.

You see this and you think good service, great food, lots of fun. And you haven’t even been inside the door, let alone sampled the fare.

So it’s already set itself apart from the Pizza Huts and Bella Italias of this world.

Now not everybody is a funky, happening, off-the-wall Mexican joint. So if you’re a City-based wealth-management company, you can’t talk about big ass portfolios, for example.

But you can take a leaf out of the Mexican book. Just look at the How’s my driving? question. How many times have you seen that before? Lots, I’ll bet.

But usually, it’s followed by a bland, anonymous email address – info@, contact@, reply@. I once even saw one that said noreply@, which was funny and tragic at the same time.

But luis@ makes me feel it’ll go to a real person. A real person who cares.

And that matters.

Lesson 3: lighten up, get personal and connect with customers (however big and important you are).

Find out more:

See the light. The EU’s characteristically inaccessible press release on low-energy light bulbs.
Buen apetito. If you’re heading up Cambridge way, why not grab a big ass burrito at Nanna Mexico? Tell Luis I sent you.
Forbidden fruit. Something’s bound to tickle your tastebuds at Apple’s new Covent Garden store.

What makes you different?

Kevin — Fri, 11 Jul 2008 08:30:59 +0000

Find it, position it, sell it

Last year, somebody sent me flowers for my birthday. It was a lovely gesture, but it’s not the flowers that stick in my mind. Instead, it was the way they were delivered.

Not by a surly, shaven-headed driver in a white van. But by a fresh-faced young guy with a broad smile and an unusual mode of transport. For Outspoken Delivery have no vans at all – just a fleet of strange-looking bicycles.

They claim they’re ’100% emission free (excluding a little hot air)’. And one of their testimonials says “Don’t use this business! They’re so good, I want them all for myself”.

How could you not like them?

They may not be the fastest. They may not be the cheapest. But they’re certainly the most different. And that’s why I’d use them.

Wouldn’t you?

Stand out or stand down

We all like to think we’re different. We tell our customers we’re different. We say it so much we actually end up believing it. But we’re often just deluding ourselves and the customer sees right through it.

Being different means really being different. Like woot.com. They sell stuff on the internet. So what?

Well here’s the difference: they sell just one item a day – until midnight, or until their stock runs out.

Today, it might be a vacuum cleaner, tomorrow a USB heated coffee mat. And when the clock strikes twelve, they move on. It doesn’t matter that they could have sold another 500.

When it’s over, it’s over. It’s a silly, irrational, counter-intuitive idea. And it’s wildly popular.

A sideways view

We can’t all turn our business model on its head, or turn to pedal power when it doesn’t make sense. Wacky is good, but only if it makes money.

But we can step back and take a different view.

Tom’s of Maine manufactures toothpaste. So how can they take on the giants of the toothpaste world?

Simple.

By telling a story, and making it personal. Check out their website, and you’ll see no corporate double-speak. Behind Tom’s of Maine is a charming, smiley couple called Tom and Kate.

Their toothpaste isn’t cheaper – in fact, it’s much more expensive. And it’s not everywhere – they sell mainly through health-food stores.

But it’s very, very successful. And from toothpaste they’ve expanded to a whole range of healthcare products.

Different is memorable. Different sells.

Different is what makes the difference.

Find out more:

Bring up those pearly whites a treat with Tom’s of Maine.
When it’s gone, it’s gone at Woot.com.
Pedal power wins the day at Outspoken Delivery.