Tuesday, July 25, 2006

Reeling in the years.

Fresh back from a vacation, and I’m feeling benevolent. Besides, I’ve made a bunch of bitchy posts lately, which might leave us thinking that maybe I don’t love brands so much after all. And that would just be wrong. Anyway, as somebody’s mom used to say, “If you can’t say something nice, go into journalism.”

Besides, brands are what put Sweetie and me on that beach last week. So, today, I’m going to say something nice.

Ish.

This, friends, is a story of redemption, and it’s about a brand called Olay. It came to mind as I was sweating off mai tais on the hotel’s treadmill, watching the little television thoughtfully provided to me and my fellow hamsters to relieve the ennui. On came a commercial for Olay stuff, featuring a stern, self-actualized looking woman using the power of science to defy nature. Not a man in sight. This woman was using the goop in question for her own satisfaction, thank you very much. And that’s unremarkable on the face of it, unless you consider the history of this brand.

If you’re old enough that they played ‘Color My World’ at your prom, you might remember the original Oil of Olay brand as it was before Procter and Gamble got hold of it. It was a one-product business. It featured coquettish women of uncertain vintage asking prying gentlemen, “How old do you THINK I am?” The nerve. And it ran ads with copy like, “My wife, I think I’ll keep her,” and a slogan like “Keep them guessing.” Seriously. I am not making this up.

These guys made the Virginia Slims woman look like Gloria Steinem. And this brand should have been given some kind of Viking funeral a generation ago.

But, of course, that’s not what happened. Today, Olay is a vast franchise. Still very much in the anti-aging business, but no longer in the ‘if you want to keep your husband, keep your youth’ business. Where women used to have to sneak this stuff through the checkout the way the fellas do with Grecian Formula, today they can buy it openly and straight-faced like any other cosmetic and not look even slightly desperate. In brandland, this is an Angelina Jolie-sized transformation.

I’d love to credit P&G with a social conscience, but that’s outside the scope of this inquiry. What’s clear, though, is that they understand that this brand is better off owning what it can do rather than why people want it. They never made the mistake of confusing the power to look younger with the social meaning of looking young. That, they realized, is just tactics. And tactics are disposable. More than this, they kept their eye on one really important insight: Meet a marketer who works in this product category, and you’ll eventually hear the cynical expression ‘hope in a jar’. P&G understood from the start that it’s not about hope at all. Just look at that sleek packaging. Olay is power in a jar, baby.

I guess the moral of the story is that a brand is never beyond redemption if it keeps paying attention. If it has a sense of context. And if it’s sure enough of its fundamental purpose that it’s willing to adapt the means by which it accomplishes that purpose.

Of course, selling a product that makes you look good still doesn’t hurt, either.

I could forgive, say, Ferrari a host of cultural sins if I had one in my driveway. Now THAT would be nice.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

Geritol's line was "My wife, I think I'll keep her" - but now that you mention it, it probably worked better for Olay..............

brandcowboy said...

Holy cow, you're right. So much for my run at the World Series of Pop Culture. And you're right that it's funny how well it fits Olay, by which you graciously redeemed my polemic. Anyway, dark days for women, those, and for all the brands that made prey of 'em. Thanks for the correction.

Anonymous said...

You woulda seen two Ferraris in a pertty little row on sunday, if you'd been in Hockenheim.

And Minis doing tricks, to boot. Cute, them.

Welcome back :-)

brandcowboy said...

A case in point, see. Schumacher is just funny looking. But that cavallino rampante just seems to make him glow. Well, that and USD$30 million a year.

Sigh. Thanks for stopping by. Now I just feel inadequate.

; )