Truvia is a relatively new sweetener, released in 2008, meaning that its marketing faces the tough task of answering the question: What the heck is it?
Truvia has chosen to answer this question with a cutesy little song.
While I find the song's total lack of poetic rhythm irritating, there's no denying that it also carries an infectious, folksy charm. Yes, this stupid little song will be stuck in your head for days. You'll despise Truvia for being "zero-calorie / guilt-free / no artificiality" but you'll inevitably know it by heart.
The song does an okay job of introducing the product. Gorging on sweets is a dilemma that I think every American has run into. Is there a healthy way to get your sweets, that won't "[make] my butt fat" or "land on my hips / or my thighs"? (The second line is from another version of the commercial with slightly different lyrics to the same song.) We can all recognize this feeling.
Moreover, the attitude of the girl singing echoes the structure of a breakup. "I loved your sweetness / but you're not sweet" and "you drove me insane" can be taken both ways. (Again, the last line is from another version.) And since most artificial sweetener buyers are women who have probably been through this kind of disillusionment with a partner, we empathize even more with the girl in the ad, and crave the relief of a trustworthy sweetener even more.
And yet, this certainly isn't the best route for Truvia's campaign. Who the heck knows what that "little green leaf" is? Who's heard of stevia? If you have, how many friends can you name who have? Can you count them all on one hand? Me too.
Truvia would be better suited by another common ad tactic, the fake conversation between friends. The same topics from the song could still be covered - the frustration with wanting sweets yet wanting to be thin, and the desire for something "guilt-free / no artificiality" - but there would be room to explain that Truvia is derived from the stevia plant.
Want to see a brilliant example of fake-conversation technique in action? Stay tuned for a discussion of Blue Buffalo.
Corn Refiners Association
There has been a lot of media response to new commercials, sponsored by the Corn Refiners Association (CRA), defending the image of high fructose corn syrup (HFCS).
On the off chance that you haven't seen any of these commercials, here's a sampler:
If you want a quick primer on the controversy, have a look at the Wikipedia page for the CRA. If you want a basic digest of the objection to the content of these ads, I think this article from The Huffington Post sums things up well.
And if you want an idea of just how much response these ads have gotten, or a quick laugh, search on Youtube for "corn syrup spoof."
But let's not talk about the nutrtional nuts and bolts of high fructose corn syrup here; let's talk about how these commercials work.
The first ad starts with a nice looking lady walking through a corn maze. Right away we're transported to idyllic times in the countryside with family. She explains that she cares for her family, something we can all appreciate. How can you not trust her?
In this ad, someone has done the hard work for us. Even with the best of intentions, it can be hard to work up the momentum to do the grueling research, especially in fields like nutrition, where any findings are hotly disputed. This nice lady has sorted through all the data, and is here to reassure us that everything is okay. Everything is okay with high fructose corn syrup.
The Corn Refiners Association released these commercials in the midst of a big slump in HFCS consumption. It's certainly true that among the nutritionally conscious, HFCS has gotten a very bad reputation. The new campaign of ads is a technique called rebranding - repositioning the brand of high fructose corn syrup to be associated positively in people's minds.
The makers of HFCS don't want to be perceived as the bad guys. The CRA now has its own Youtube channel, which airs the commercials online. Their front page even claims, "Our goal is not to present high fructose corn syrup as a health food, nor is our goal to increase consumption of high fructose corn syrup. Our goal is to clear up confusion about its role in the food and beverages Americans consume." Wisely, the CRA is trying to tell you that you can trust them. They aren't releasing marketing or propaganda to get you to buy or consume their product, they are just trying to "clear up confusion."
And on that note of branding, let's take a moment to talk specifically about the CRA. These ads, much like political ads, must include information about their sponsorship, and small lettering reveals that they are paid for by the Corn Refiners Association. And while attributing the commercial to the CRA is pretty revealing about the ad's intentions (to increase sales of corn products), it's not as revealing as giving the names of the companies in the CRA. If you're up on nutritional and environmental activism, you'll recognize - and be alarmed by - names like Cargill and Archer Daniels.
Now, the second ad, which I think is somewhat more blatant. In this commercial, the opponent of corn syrup appears to be a mother who wants her kids to have healthy food. But notice that she's also extremely rude, uninformed, and perhaps not very bright. She's unlikable, and her opinions about HFCS are contradicted by someone who's much more likable.
The HFCS-supporter-mom not only seems to know her stuff - it sounds like she's been rehearsing this conversation all week - but she's also very likable, and seems trustworthy. She's cool-headed, not getting upset when the other lady practically accuses her of being a bad mother and a terrible person. She's clever and well-informed. She's the kind of mom other moms want to be.
Some ads rely on information or logic to drive their point home. These ads are obviously not those types of ads. The information is sparse, and the characters are designed to gain your trust. This campaign practically relies on you being too lazy to look up the facts yourself, just like the lady in the second commercial didn't. But they covered their bases by giving you links to start with in case you do want to read about high fructose corn syrup: links that of course paint HFCS in the most flattering light possible.
Stay tuned for another sweetener looking to increase its popularity: Truvia.
On the off chance that you haven't seen any of these commercials, here's a sampler:
If you want a quick primer on the controversy, have a look at the Wikipedia page for the CRA. If you want a basic digest of the objection to the content of these ads, I think this article from The Huffington Post sums things up well.
And if you want an idea of just how much response these ads have gotten, or a quick laugh, search on Youtube for "corn syrup spoof."
But let's not talk about the nutrtional nuts and bolts of high fructose corn syrup here; let's talk about how these commercials work.
The first ad starts with a nice looking lady walking through a corn maze. Right away we're transported to idyllic times in the countryside with family. She explains that she cares for her family, something we can all appreciate. How can you not trust her?
In this ad, someone has done the hard work for us. Even with the best of intentions, it can be hard to work up the momentum to do the grueling research, especially in fields like nutrition, where any findings are hotly disputed. This nice lady has sorted through all the data, and is here to reassure us that everything is okay. Everything is okay with high fructose corn syrup.
The Corn Refiners Association released these commercials in the midst of a big slump in HFCS consumption. It's certainly true that among the nutritionally conscious, HFCS has gotten a very bad reputation. The new campaign of ads is a technique called rebranding - repositioning the brand of high fructose corn syrup to be associated positively in people's minds.
The makers of HFCS don't want to be perceived as the bad guys. The CRA now has its own Youtube channel, which airs the commercials online. Their front page even claims, "Our goal is not to present high fructose corn syrup as a health food, nor is our goal to increase consumption of high fructose corn syrup. Our goal is to clear up confusion about its role in the food and beverages Americans consume." Wisely, the CRA is trying to tell you that you can trust them. They aren't releasing marketing or propaganda to get you to buy or consume their product, they are just trying to "clear up confusion."
And on that note of branding, let's take a moment to talk specifically about the CRA. These ads, much like political ads, must include information about their sponsorship, and small lettering reveals that they are paid for by the Corn Refiners Association. And while attributing the commercial to the CRA is pretty revealing about the ad's intentions (to increase sales of corn products), it's not as revealing as giving the names of the companies in the CRA. If you're up on nutritional and environmental activism, you'll recognize - and be alarmed by - names like Cargill and Archer Daniels.
Now, the second ad, which I think is somewhat more blatant. In this commercial, the opponent of corn syrup appears to be a mother who wants her kids to have healthy food. But notice that she's also extremely rude, uninformed, and perhaps not very bright. She's unlikable, and her opinions about HFCS are contradicted by someone who's much more likable.
The HFCS-supporter-mom not only seems to know her stuff - it sounds like she's been rehearsing this conversation all week - but she's also very likable, and seems trustworthy. She's cool-headed, not getting upset when the other lady practically accuses her of being a bad mother and a terrible person. She's clever and well-informed. She's the kind of mom other moms want to be.
Some ads rely on information or logic to drive their point home. These ads are obviously not those types of ads. The information is sparse, and the characters are designed to gain your trust. This campaign practically relies on you being too lazy to look up the facts yourself, just like the lady in the second commercial didn't. But they covered their bases by giving you links to start with in case you do want to read about high fructose corn syrup: links that of course paint HFCS in the most flattering light possible.
Stay tuned for another sweetener looking to increase its popularity: Truvia.
Dunwoody College
In my last entry I promised an example of a commercial that took the opportunity to educate its audience. It's also a nice excuse for me to share this ad, which I stumbled across last week while looking for that sneaky International Delight ad.
Watch it again. I just love it. As someone who worked in a coffee shop, I can relate so deeply to that feeling of static emergency. And I genuinely believe that most people have experienced this sensation at some point or another in their lives.
I see a lot of ads for technical schools like Dunwoody that list off their programs, and I always end up tuning it out (no pun intended). Yes, it's a school; yes, they have programs. But this is the first tech school ad I've seen that really relates the possibility of school to a life someone is leading.
(You may ask why the ad doesn't say anything else about Dunwoody College of Technology. "It got my attention, but I don't know what to do now. Where's the call to action?" The simple answer is that Dunwoody is located in Minneapolis, and if you live in the area, you're already familiar with the college. Similarly, if you live in the Seattle area, you know about BCC. Or, if you live in the Cleveland area, you've heard of Universal Technical Institute, very unfortunately abbreviated as UTI. But that's not relevant.)
So congratulations to Dunwoody College of Technology for bridging the gap between talking at its audience and educating its audience - what better for a school ad? Not just, "Yeah, that's a school," but, "Wow, that school could get me out of this crappy minimum wage job."
Want to see an ad that isn't about coffee? And takes advantage of its customers' ignorance by pretending to educate them? It's like Consumer Exploitation 201, a step ahead of what we've seen in the past two entries. Stay tuned for the Corn Refiners Assocation.
Watch it again. I just love it. As someone who worked in a coffee shop, I can relate so deeply to that feeling of static emergency. And I genuinely believe that most people have experienced this sensation at some point or another in their lives.
I see a lot of ads for technical schools like Dunwoody that list off their programs, and I always end up tuning it out (no pun intended). Yes, it's a school; yes, they have programs. But this is the first tech school ad I've seen that really relates the possibility of school to a life someone is leading.
(You may ask why the ad doesn't say anything else about Dunwoody College of Technology. "It got my attention, but I don't know what to do now. Where's the call to action?" The simple answer is that Dunwoody is located in Minneapolis, and if you live in the area, you're already familiar with the college. Similarly, if you live in the Seattle area, you know about BCC. Or, if you live in the Cleveland area, you've heard of Universal Technical Institute, very unfortunately abbreviated as UTI. But that's not relevant.)
So congratulations to Dunwoody College of Technology for bridging the gap between talking at its audience and educating its audience - what better for a school ad? Not just, "Yeah, that's a school," but, "Wow, that school could get me out of this crappy minimum wage job."
Want to see an ad that isn't about coffee? And takes advantage of its customers' ignorance by pretending to educate them? It's like Consumer Exploitation 201, a step ahead of what we've seen in the past two entries. Stay tuned for the Corn Refiners Assocation.
International Delight
Here are today's ads, brought to you by International Delight.
This first one doesn't exist on the web, so I resorted to sitting in front of the TV and trying to record it with my cell phone. The sound and picture quality are Bad. Hopefully, you've seen it before. If not, here's a quick transcript of the dialogue.
We thought the only way to get creamy coffeehouse drinks at home was to hire a live-in barista to make them with real milk and cream!
[barista making horrible sounds]
Thankfully, International Delight introduced new Breve Cream, made with real milk and cream!
Don't make room for the barista, make room for the breve!
I mentioned last week that I am a coffee snob. I've accepted this fact. And thanks to my snobbiness, I am severely irritated by the many, many factual errors in these commercials. Please don't be bored by a quick list thereof:
- Baristas don't make that noise unless they're doing it wrong. That squealing means they're scalding the milk. Good baristas don't scald milk.
- Breve is the Italian word for heavy cream, so saying "breve cream" is redundant.
- A caramel macchiato is made of espresso, vanilla, milk, and caramel. Macchiato, Italian for "marked," means the shot is poured on top the foamy vanilla-flavored steamed milk, marking the milk with deep dark espresso. Then the drink is marked further with caramel on top of the foam. In other words, a caramel macchiato is not black coffee with flavored creamer.
- Similarly, a vanilla latte involves espresso, vanilla, and milk, not black coffee with flavored creamer.
- Likewise, a white chocolate mocha involves espresso, white chocolate, and milk, not black coffee with flavored creamer.
I can accept flavored creamers being inspired by "coffeehouse" espresso drinks, but that smug little man in a green, non-Starbucks apron pretending that he made a caramel macchiato for his sweetie makes me a little sick.
Okay, I'm done whining, and I swear this is relevant. Remember last week's entry about the Tassimo Brewbot? International Delight is also trying to bridge the gap between black coffee and snobby Starbucksers. Admittedly, its target audience is less sophisticated, unattached to the luxury of foamed milk.
And yet International Delight uses the snobby words. Breve, caramel macchiato – the terms are used incorrectly, but they sure sound fancy, don't they?
International Delight is capitalizing on the ignorance of its customer base. (And I don't say ignorance as a criticism, only a simple and innocent lack of knowledge on the snobby-coffee subject.) Because International Delight's customers are not aware of or annoyed by the fact that the drinks shown in the commercials are not coffeehouse drinks, they believe these creamers mixed with black coffee are just as good, even though they're barely related. They may also be tasty, but it's nowhere near the same taste.
And companies do this all the time. In fact, many sales are exploitations of customer ignorance. Commercials can either trick customers or educate them. Some commercials that trick consumers include these International Delight ads, as well as the Heat Surge Amish Fireplace ads I covered a few entries ago.
Want to see a commercial that educates customers? Stay tuned for a clever ad from Dunwoody College.
This first one doesn't exist on the web, so I resorted to sitting in front of the TV and trying to record it with my cell phone. The sound and picture quality are Bad. Hopefully, you've seen it before. If not, here's a quick transcript of the dialogue.
We thought the only way to get creamy coffeehouse drinks at home was to hire a live-in barista to make them with real milk and cream!
[barista making horrible sounds]
Thankfully, International Delight introduced new Breve Cream, made with real milk and cream!
Don't make room for the barista, make room for the breve!
I mentioned last week that I am a coffee snob. I've accepted this fact. And thanks to my snobbiness, I am severely irritated by the many, many factual errors in these commercials. Please don't be bored by a quick list thereof:
- Baristas don't make that noise unless they're doing it wrong. That squealing means they're scalding the milk. Good baristas don't scald milk.
- Breve is the Italian word for heavy cream, so saying "breve cream" is redundant.
- A caramel macchiato is made of espresso, vanilla, milk, and caramel. Macchiato, Italian for "marked," means the shot is poured on top the foamy vanilla-flavored steamed milk, marking the milk with deep dark espresso. Then the drink is marked further with caramel on top of the foam. In other words, a caramel macchiato is not black coffee with flavored creamer.
- Similarly, a vanilla latte involves espresso, vanilla, and milk, not black coffee with flavored creamer.
- Likewise, a white chocolate mocha involves espresso, white chocolate, and milk, not black coffee with flavored creamer.
I can accept flavored creamers being inspired by "coffeehouse" espresso drinks, but that smug little man in a green, non-Starbucks apron pretending that he made a caramel macchiato for his sweetie makes me a little sick.
Okay, I'm done whining, and I swear this is relevant. Remember last week's entry about the Tassimo Brewbot? International Delight is also trying to bridge the gap between black coffee and snobby Starbucksers. Admittedly, its target audience is less sophisticated, unattached to the luxury of foamed milk.
And yet International Delight uses the snobby words. Breve, caramel macchiato – the terms are used incorrectly, but they sure sound fancy, don't they?
International Delight is capitalizing on the ignorance of its customer base. (And I don't say ignorance as a criticism, only a simple and innocent lack of knowledge on the snobby-coffee subject.) Because International Delight's customers are not aware of or annoyed by the fact that the drinks shown in the commercials are not coffeehouse drinks, they believe these creamers mixed with black coffee are just as good, even though they're barely related. They may also be tasty, but it's nowhere near the same taste.
And companies do this all the time. In fact, many sales are exploitations of customer ignorance. Commercials can either trick customers or educate them. Some commercials that trick consumers include these International Delight ads, as well as the Heat Surge Amish Fireplace ads I covered a few entries ago.
Want to see a commercial that educates customers? Stay tuned for a clever ad from Dunwoody College.
Tassimo Brewbot
Let's start with the ad.
Oh my God. I never knew coffee could be so much fun. I instantly want that device. It even reminds me of happier times in the late nineties, with the Furby and Poo-Chi (a robotic dog made by the same company).
But as soon as the commercial ended, the spell was broken. "It doesn't really do that, does it?" I said to a friend nearby.
"Nah," he said flatly.
I actually felt a little sad. "I'd really, really want it if it actually danced and handed me my coffee with little robot arms."
"Yeah."
Okay, so he didn't care. But maybe you do.
This commercial seems to me a paradox, because Tassimo clearly knows its target audience. There has long been a rift between coffee snobs and the average Joe. (See what I did there? Pun!)
If you're an average Joe, you have a coffeemaker from the eighties and you get your coffee grounds out of a can. If you're a true snob, you go out of the house every time you go to get your Starbucks; but if you're almost a true snob and you've bought a home machine, it's a full blown espresso machine that pulls real shots of espresso and has a steaming wand for milk.
Tassimo attempts to bridge this gap. You may have heard of a few other companies working on it, such as Keurig. Instead of labeling any milk-related drink a cappuccino, like some other "you-don't-need-Starbucks!" attempts, Tassimo's "Brewbot" actually steams milk, as shown in the commercial.
If you've spotted the price (almost $200), you may ask, "For that price, why not get a real espresso machine?"
Well, that's what I asked - I'm a coffee snob.
But Tassimo isn't attempting to sell the highest quality of espresso drinks with its Brewbot. Tassimo is offering customers something other than black coffee, without being so snobby. After all, the machine is officially sold as the Bosch TAS4511UC Tassimo Single-Serve Coffee Brewer - not very hipster, is it?
So the commercial shouldn't appeal to the Starbucks crowd. Good call, Tassimo. And a dancing coffeemaker is probably a little too wild for the average Joe. Again, good call.
But does the in-between non-fussy coffee-liking citizen want a coffeemaker that's advertised like a children's toy? I doubt it. Especially since it doesn't work like a children's toy. No dancing, no voice, no little arms. It doesn't even have eyes.
Want to see another ad attempting to bridge the coffee-drinking chasm? Stay tuned for International Delight.
Oh my God. I never knew coffee could be so much fun. I instantly want that device. It even reminds me of happier times in the late nineties, with the Furby and Poo-Chi (a robotic dog made by the same company).
But as soon as the commercial ended, the spell was broken. "It doesn't really do that, does it?" I said to a friend nearby.
"Nah," he said flatly.
I actually felt a little sad. "I'd really, really want it if it actually danced and handed me my coffee with little robot arms."
"Yeah."
Okay, so he didn't care. But maybe you do.
This commercial seems to me a paradox, because Tassimo clearly knows its target audience. There has long been a rift between coffee snobs and the average Joe. (See what I did there? Pun!)
If you're an average Joe, you have a coffeemaker from the eighties and you get your coffee grounds out of a can. If you're a true snob, you go out of the house every time you go to get your Starbucks; but if you're almost a true snob and you've bought a home machine, it's a full blown espresso machine that pulls real shots of espresso and has a steaming wand for milk.
Tassimo attempts to bridge this gap. You may have heard of a few other companies working on it, such as Keurig. Instead of labeling any milk-related drink a cappuccino, like some other "you-don't-need-Starbucks!" attempts, Tassimo's "Brewbot" actually steams milk, as shown in the commercial.
If you've spotted the price (almost $200), you may ask, "For that price, why not get a real espresso machine?"
Well, that's what I asked - I'm a coffee snob.
But Tassimo isn't attempting to sell the highest quality of espresso drinks with its Brewbot. Tassimo is offering customers something other than black coffee, without being so snobby. After all, the machine is officially sold as the Bosch TAS4511UC Tassimo Single-Serve Coffee Brewer - not very hipster, is it?
So the commercial shouldn't appeal to the Starbucks crowd. Good call, Tassimo. And a dancing coffeemaker is probably a little too wild for the average Joe. Again, good call.
But does the in-between non-fussy coffee-liking citizen want a coffeemaker that's advertised like a children's toy? I doubt it. Especially since it doesn't work like a children's toy. No dancing, no voice, no little arms. It doesn't even have eyes.
Want to see another ad attempting to bridge the coffee-drinking chasm? Stay tuned for International Delight.
Olay Total Effects 7
My favorite ad ever. Not necessarily the best ad ever, mind you, but I love it. Have a look.
I think that if you're a woman, the brilliance of this commercial speaks for itself. But if not, here's a primer. The stuff you put on your face is something you put there because if you don't, you will be less valuable in our image-focused society. So when you apply makeup, face creams, anti-wrinkle creams, acne treatments – the list goes on and on and on – you're protecting yourself against rejection, fighting society itself. This commercial shows a woman preparing for this war in the more blatant old-fashioned way. This woman is like most women in our society, a beautiful strong warrior. Yet this is what most women feel they are not – and so this commercial offers them what they would like to be. I love the metaphor, the imagery, the music, even the slogan. Prepare for victory beautifully.
Now, if this lady is such a strong warrior, why the smile? Well, look at the commercial without it. Here it is with the smiling removed completely.
Creepy, right? Yeah, a little bit. Still cool, but now I'm a little bit afraid of her – not good for selling makeup.
And what's wrong with this brilliant Olay commercial? Well, you may have spotted it already. It doesn't tell you what the product is. I won't lie. When I decided to review this ad, I had no idea what it was for. I just knew it was that wonderful commercial with the war paint.
Yes, you see the little bottle, and if you're quick, you can read it: Olay Total Effects 7. If you're curious, I looked it up: Total Effects 7 is actually an entire line of products designed to "fight 7 signs of aging." It offers moisturizer, intense moisturizer, tanning lotion, foundation, wrinkle-smoothing cream, night-time wrinkle cream, eye bag and wrinkle cream, exfoliants, foaming cleanser, cream cleanser, acne cleanser, moisturizing body wash, exfoliating body wash, even special cleansing cloths.
You've got to be a ninja just to choose which product to buy. A highly skilled specimen of pure success in all situations. So the warrior metaphor is still perfect. But when you start to get into the nuts and bolts of cosmetics, it's hard to stay in the fantasy.
It's a complicated product, and it needs a complicated ad to help you get through the intricacies of what's right. Imagine you'd really like to buy this product. You managed to find the name of the product in the commercial. You're so impressed that you at least want to go see what the product is, as it could be one of many (see above). You get to the store, you find Olay, and you stare at hundreds of bottles labeled Total Effects 7. Do you buy them all? Of course not. Are you able to choose just one? Probably not. Chances are, you leave without any Olay products – you buy what you've always bought.
For this spot to be a real success, it needs to be advertising a simpler product, because the message is simple. Prepare for victory beautifully.
Want to see another ad that I loved - but that fell just slightly short? Stay tuned for Tassimo.
I think that if you're a woman, the brilliance of this commercial speaks for itself. But if not, here's a primer. The stuff you put on your face is something you put there because if you don't, you will be less valuable in our image-focused society. So when you apply makeup, face creams, anti-wrinkle creams, acne treatments – the list goes on and on and on – you're protecting yourself against rejection, fighting society itself. This commercial shows a woman preparing for this war in the more blatant old-fashioned way. This woman is like most women in our society, a beautiful strong warrior. Yet this is what most women feel they are not – and so this commercial offers them what they would like to be. I love the metaphor, the imagery, the music, even the slogan. Prepare for victory beautifully.
Now, if this lady is such a strong warrior, why the smile? Well, look at the commercial without it. Here it is with the smiling removed completely.
Creepy, right? Yeah, a little bit. Still cool, but now I'm a little bit afraid of her – not good for selling makeup.
And what's wrong with this brilliant Olay commercial? Well, you may have spotted it already. It doesn't tell you what the product is. I won't lie. When I decided to review this ad, I had no idea what it was for. I just knew it was that wonderful commercial with the war paint.
Yes, you see the little bottle, and if you're quick, you can read it: Olay Total Effects 7. If you're curious, I looked it up: Total Effects 7 is actually an entire line of products designed to "fight 7 signs of aging." It offers moisturizer, intense moisturizer, tanning lotion, foundation, wrinkle-smoothing cream, night-time wrinkle cream, eye bag and wrinkle cream, exfoliants, foaming cleanser, cream cleanser, acne cleanser, moisturizing body wash, exfoliating body wash, even special cleansing cloths.
You've got to be a ninja just to choose which product to buy. A highly skilled specimen of pure success in all situations. So the warrior metaphor is still perfect. But when you start to get into the nuts and bolts of cosmetics, it's hard to stay in the fantasy.
It's a complicated product, and it needs a complicated ad to help you get through the intricacies of what's right. Imagine you'd really like to buy this product. You managed to find the name of the product in the commercial. You're so impressed that you at least want to go see what the product is, as it could be one of many (see above). You get to the store, you find Olay, and you stare at hundreds of bottles labeled Total Effects 7. Do you buy them all? Of course not. Are you able to choose just one? Probably not. Chances are, you leave without any Olay products – you buy what you've always bought.
For this spot to be a real success, it needs to be advertising a simpler product, because the message is simple. Prepare for victory beautifully.
Want to see another ad that I loved - but that fell just slightly short? Stay tuned for Tassimo.
Heat Surge Fireplace
I had some trouble sleeping the other day and flipped on the TV for some background noise in the hopes that it would lull me to sleep. Not caring what was on at four in the morning because I wasn't planning to watch anyway, I left it on some paid programming and set the sleep timer for twenty minutes.
Unfortunately, the TV was playing an infomercial for the Heat Surge Fireplace. Normally I don't mind infomercials if I'm just trying to fall asleep, but this one managed to wake me right up.
Resolutely laying still with my eyes closed, I catch the words "the only fireplace handcrafted by the Amish."
Who came up with that slogan!? Suddenly I'm picturing Amish sweat shops for the first time in my life and I don't like it. Then I swear to God the lady says, "Entire Amish villages are straining to keep up with the demand!"
Now I'm seeing a Ben Hur style Amish slave boat. There are less than 250,000 Amish people in the United States. Just how many of these fireplaces are they planning to sell with their national TV ads? I hope no one in a weakened and sleep-deprived state falls for this lame marketing ploy.
(No offense, Heat Surge. It's clever using a group of people who won't be watching enough TV to call your bluff.)
The next night, I bumped into the infomercial again and saw the images that accompanied the audio. Wow.
Sadly I cannot find the exact version of the infomercial that I witnessed – but here is a similar video with somewhat less extreme imagery.
P.S.: I did some research. Only the wooden casing is made by the Amish (not shocking, since the Amish are not known as friends of electricity, and their homes do not have outlets), though I can find no discussion of how much involvement they have with it. I'm guessing that they receive the wood and simply apply varnish. Handmade is practically a myth in this day and age, and no serious company will waste time with it longer than they have to in order to make the "handmade" claim.
Also, I later spotted a print version of the ad headlined, "Amish Man's New Miracle Idea Helps Home Heat Bills Hit Rock Bottom," but the fine print admits that the invention is Chinese. No word on whether the electric components are also manufactured in China.
Lastly, the Amish wooden mantle does not seem to be included with the price of the fireplace, and must be purchased separately. Being an infomercial, of course the pricing is unclear, but it's the 21st century. News gets around.
Want to see my favorite commercial ever? Stay tuned for Olay Total Effects 7.
Unfortunately, the TV was playing an infomercial for the Heat Surge Fireplace. Normally I don't mind infomercials if I'm just trying to fall asleep, but this one managed to wake me right up.
Resolutely laying still with my eyes closed, I catch the words "the only fireplace handcrafted by the Amish."
Who came up with that slogan!? Suddenly I'm picturing Amish sweat shops for the first time in my life and I don't like it. Then I swear to God the lady says, "Entire Amish villages are straining to keep up with the demand!"
Now I'm seeing a Ben Hur style Amish slave boat. There are less than 250,000 Amish people in the United States. Just how many of these fireplaces are they planning to sell with their national TV ads? I hope no one in a weakened and sleep-deprived state falls for this lame marketing ploy.
(No offense, Heat Surge. It's clever using a group of people who won't be watching enough TV to call your bluff.)
The next night, I bumped into the infomercial again and saw the images that accompanied the audio. Wow.
Sadly I cannot find the exact version of the infomercial that I witnessed – but here is a similar video with somewhat less extreme imagery.
P.S.: I did some research. Only the wooden casing is made by the Amish (not shocking, since the Amish are not known as friends of electricity, and their homes do not have outlets), though I can find no discussion of how much involvement they have with it. I'm guessing that they receive the wood and simply apply varnish. Handmade is practically a myth in this day and age, and no serious company will waste time with it longer than they have to in order to make the "handmade" claim.
Also, I later spotted a print version of the ad headlined, "Amish Man's New Miracle Idea Helps Home Heat Bills Hit Rock Bottom," but the fine print admits that the invention is Chinese. No word on whether the electric components are also manufactured in China.
Lastly, the Amish wooden mantle does not seem to be included with the price of the fireplace, and must be purchased separately. Being an infomercial, of course the pricing is unclear, but it's the 21st century. News gets around.
Want to see my favorite commercial ever? Stay tuned for Olay Total Effects 7.
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