Brands, Ads, and the Persuadable You
Why some ads move us and some ads don't
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A few weeks ago, I was scrolling Reddit when suddenly I was assaulted by this horrible Adidas ad.
What’s going on here? Not only are these the ugliest pair of shoes I’ve ever seen, but they’re about the ugliest pair of legs, with their combination of wiry black hair, crumpled white socks, and absence of a detectable calf muscle. As for the actual ad copy—“built and designed for the modern athlete”—who do they think they’re kidding? Are we, the discerning public, supposed to believe these are the legs and shoes of the modern athlete? 1
Clearly this ad didn’t move me. Others do, however. Are any of us immune? I imagine we’re all prone to a little branded persuasion, especially in this season of shopping.
I work in a small corner of advertising helping satellite manufacturers and healthcare tech companies attract and convert customers through digital media. Unexciting though it may be, it’s enlarged my awareness for both the psychological tools and technology at play behind branding, targeting, etc. But just because you know how the sausage is made doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy a good meal.
In this newsletter, I explore what makes for compelling advertising and branding and ponder what our attraction to certain brands and ads says about our values, insecurities, and desires. Because I’m particularly susceptible to fitness brands, most of my examples are from that category, though the principles apply to most consumer branding, be that clothes, cookware, cars, or cameras.
Good Ads and Brands
A few things have to be said about ads, generally. First, not every ad can be great. One principle of effective advertising is simply reach. You see that little gecko enough, and sooner or later you’re on the Geico website.
Every ad can’t be funny, dramatic, or inspirational. Some must simply inform, announce, or state a tagline.
And finally, the scope of what constitutes an “ad” is enormous. That annoying pop-up on your screen and the logo on the front of a jersey are ads, but so is that guy at work who dresses and speaks well. He might not be a paid brand ambassador, but it’s easier to emulate his style than his intellect. Considering all the factors that impact a potential purchase, it becomes clear just how much falls under the branding umbrella.2
Brands are not ads, but ads, if understood in this broad sense, are often the vehicle for developing a strong brand.
Now for my philosophy of good brands and ads:
Reputation + Emotional Pull + Clear Positioning
Not all brands need each element to persuade shoppers. Often, reputation stands on its own. For example, we were recently in the market for Christmas lights. I could have shopped around, compared features, and read reviews. Instead, on a trip to Costco, they offered just one option, and we walked out with two boxes. Costco’s reputation was enough.
Reputation matters even more with online shopping. Facebook has pegged me as someone who buys cycling gear. My feed is full of ads for cycling jerseys from brands I’ve never heard from. The ads aren’t bad, necessarily. But because they brand too unfamiliar (most are direct-to-consumer/drop-shippers), I have no trust in the product.
How can a brand advertise without a reputation? That’s the job the emotional pull and clear positioning.
The most effective ads convey one or more strong emotions. Banks try to make you feel secure, insurance sometimes makes you fearful (see All State ads), Apple makes you feel creative. Ads can pique our curiosity, make us laugh, or generate nostalgia.
In consumer goods, the strongest emotion (and perhaps most commonly wielded) is aspiration. If you’re cynical, you could call it insecurity. The pitch is simple: by owning a product, you might become a better version of yourself—smarter, better looking, sophisticated, popular, or “in the know”.
To couple the emotional pull and to further build upon a reputation, effective brands undertake positing in their ads to show who the product is for, and by necessity, who it isn’t. For example, Osprey bags position themselves as the backpack of choice among serious hikers. How do they accomplish this? First, they stick pretty close to their core product: technical, high-volume bags. They’re not trying to make a bag for every occasion. They’re trying to make the best backpacking bag they can. Second, their advertising focuses almost exclusively on hiking/backpacking.
Serious backpackers will gravitate toward Osprey for the strength of the product. Less serious backpackers will seek to emulate the serious backpackers and they too will buy an Osprey. Finally, both groups, having staked their hiking identity on Osprey’s brand, will buy additional Osprey products like day packs, baby carriers, and duffle bags—each of which signals to others on the trail, office, and airport that they are in the presence of a serious hiker.
Few brands are truly exclusionary. One man’s dollar is as good as the next. Yet some brands, especially on the luxury side of the spectrum, will take things a little further than your standard consumer brand. Consider Tracksmith, a snobby running company with a New England prep-school aesthetic. I actually happen to really like them (more on that later), but they’ve been known to anger the running community with their exclusionary tactics, like this limited edition Boston Marathon singlet they released last year for registered qualifiers. The qualifying times for the Boston Marathon are fast—men had to run quicker than a 3-hour marathon to qualify. Of those who did make the cutoff, a large number were not even selected for the race.
Tracksmith’s exclusive singlet, which they announced on Instagram, rubbed a lot of runners the wrong way. Many decried it as a dumb brand move, alienating all the runners who didn’t qualify. Maybe that was the point. Tracksmith wants really fast runners, the type who qualify for big races, to wear their gear. For as many runners who felt left out, just as many probably felt motivated to try to one day qualify (or at least to wear Tracksmith gear and delude themselves that they might become an elite runner).
These three things, reputation, emotion, and positioning all contain traces of a fourth, critical factor, something that’s actually outside the advertiser’s power entirely. That’s us, the consumer, and what we bring to the brand.
Reputation matters, as illustrated by my experience at Costco, but when it comes to those hobbies and interests we care about, it’s only the reputation of people we admire and trust that matters. Hikers value the opinion of other hikers, runners value the opinion of runners.
In the actual advertising, the images, copy, targeting, and placement, brands still take a shot in the dark. They don’t know exactly who is on the receiving end of their advertisements and the social circles, desires, and motivations of the specific consumer. There’s no segmenting by aspiration.
The job of the brand and the ads they deploy are to pull the right emotional levers, position themselves clearly, and develop a reputation so that the right buyers will self-select into purchasing the product.
Over time, this plays out so effectively that you can start to stereotype based on brand affiliation. You can google “Car owner stereotypes” or “Guitar brand stereotypes” and find all sorts of decently accurate judgments about the types of people who buy certain products (PRS - because doctors and lawyers need to ROCK too)
What ads resonate with you? And if an ad resonated with you, what does it say about yourself? What values, desires, and aspirations are at work that attract you to a specific brand?
I said earlier that I like Tracksmith. Yes, they’re a bit elitist, and their clothes cost way too much. But what originally drew me to the brand was the way they visualized and talked about running in their ads. In almost all of their advertising, the runners are out on some country road in New England, often on a brisk autumn day, looking a little fatigued in their merino wool colored perfectly to match the landscape.
Dumb as it may sound, looking at these Tracksmith ads actually motivated me to run more. I wanted to capture the satisfied weariness, the pursuit of excellence, that was so clear in the ads.
I discovered Tracksmith a few years ago when their products were out of my price range. Once we had a little more disposable income, Tracksmith was the first splurge-like purchase I made.
Is the product better than a more generic brand like Nike or Under Armour? Sort of—the cuts are nice, and the Merino wool is magical. Still, I run the same in Tracksmith as in any other shirt. Yet, I do feel that slight difference whenever I slip into a Tracksmith top.
If you’re immovable in the face of branding, cast the first stone at my susceptibility and vanity. Consider your own consumption. Will you only wear Ecco shoes? Drink Coke? Never consider an Android? Shop exclusively at Whole Foods?
What does it say about the brand? Better yet, what does it say about you?
6 Photos from the Last Month
Originally, this post was going to ask the question “do people in ads need to be hot?” Seems that we went through a period around 3-5 years ago where ads were full of weird-looking people. The pendulum seems to be swinging back now to hot+diverse. My short answer: hot is good, but not a substitute for actual advertising.
The duel ascendance of social media and influencer marketing seeks to capitalize on this truth, allowing individuals with enough clout to cash out on their lifestyle and become vehicles for strategic product placement. Does it work? Sure, but it’s best when it’s subtle. No one wants to feel like they’re being sold.