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An abbreviated version of this post appeared as a comment to a column in Ad Age…

I’ve been paying a lot of attention to the trades these days, looking for forums to talk about what we believe in, and staying abreast of trends. Do I think/hope the former will lead to new business opportunities? Oh faher sher.

I’d posit the same is true for just about every contributor to a trade publication who’s got a related business.

And then there’s Barry Wacksman, EVP-chief growth officer, R/GA.

The January 11 issue of Advertising Age features a column penned by Mr. Wacksman in which he urges agencies to strive not for ‘lead’ status among a roster of agency partners, but instead for the vaunted title of ‘dream’ agency.

In defining this entity, Mr. Wacksman says ‘it would have a thorough understanding of how consumers think and feel, but also how they seek and make and share and transact.’ I know, groundbreaking. But stay with me, as I did with him…

He goes on to say that the dream agency wouldn’t be wedded to a specific type media; it would be nimble and capable and, most important, innovative, whether working online or off.

‘Right on, brotha,’ I said. (Well, it was really more of a thought. That’s when I tend to channel my inner blaxploitation persona.) ‘Go on witcha bad self.’

Is that coat reversible?

Wacksman continues by pointing out that the ability to execute brilliant ideas—not just conceive of them—would be the dream agency’s key attribute. And, moreover, that said agency would, by dint of its skill, media acumen and strategic insight, become the client’s most valuable partner, regardless of whether or not they’re called the ‘lead.’

‘Testify!’ I cried. (When the moment strikes, my inner dialog can get really spiritual.)

Then Wacksman winds up for the big finish, when he reveals what type of agency is best positioned to grab for this brass ring.

And the winner, he says, is ‘…the current crop of large, independent digital-age agencies.’

Which is funny, because that rules out Wacksman’s agency, an Interpublic joint.

So the question is “Do you think good ol’ Barry is just the gosh-darned nicest, real-est and most secure guy on the planet, to go ahead and endorse a type of agency that his is not…or did he just black out for a minute and forget that he and his whole operation are actually part of the borg?” I’m betting the latter.

I’m also betting that Barry got an extra-special invitation to lunch with Bob Greenberg after the piece ran.

Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to believe that somebody in this super-competitive industry had the guts to tell it like it is, even if that meant a gentle bitch slap to the folks who sign his paycheck.

But I think the truth is more likely that Barry just got tired after writing all those words and became delusional to the point of believing that R/GA really is an independent entity, rather than part of one of the largest agency holding companies in the world, with over 40,000 employees and more than $7 billion in annual revenue.

Independent? Um, not so much.

Ali's all 'Ima git you, sucka.' And Joe's all 'Do you wax, 'cause those brows are flawless.'

So about the title of this post: It’s not a competition, like Ali vs. Frazier, or Superargo vs. Diabolicus (a movie so friggin’ cool that it’s literally one of the few TV memories I’ve retained since childhood; the others being every episode of Abbott and Costello, including the slightly creepy The Time of Our Lives).

It’s more a matter of opinion, you know, like Nature vs. Nurture. As with that old chestnut, the question of whether people are just venal pricks at heart or if it’s the workplace that makes them that way is a source of never-ending curiosity. Well, to me, at least.

I thought about this the other day while having lunch with a friend and former colleague, who’s about year into a great gig with what for all intents and purposes seems like an amazing company (all open and friendly and creative and sh%&). He’s got a ton of responsibility—the good kind—a crackerjack team and the faith and trust of the big boss. Life’s good, right? Well, apparently, not so much.

Lately he’s run into some resistance in the firm, mostly other senior managers who, for whatever reasons, aren’t making things easy for him. Of course, this could be due to any number of factors: Poor social skills. Halitosis. Rickets.

But I know this guy, and trust me: He’s great. Smart, funny, engaging, well mannered, well groomed (something methinks Joe would appreciate (see caption, above)), and a genuine team player—the kind who’s always looking for ways to collaborate, make things better and celebrate the achievements of others.

Right about now you’re probably thinking one of two things. Either A) This guy sounds amazing; I wonder what he’s doing for the Jewish holidays, or B) It is a cosmic impossibility that such a person is friends with Leeds. Both are legitimate, but neither is germane to this post. Think of this paragraph as the textual equivalent of a musical interlude.

The point is, this guy’s a friggin’ gem. Oh, and did I mention he’s a star? Like he actually gets stuff done and proactively comes up with all these cool ways to further the business and the company’s brand? Yeah, that too.

So why, I wonder, is he catching flack?

Could it be that offices, by dint of their stark walls, common toilets and color copiers somehow cause otherwise normal people to become petty, spiteful, backstabbing a-holes? Or is it that such behavior is really just part of our makeup, like an enzyme that’s genetically triggered when more than a handful of us are gathered in the same place, collecting semi-monthly paychecks?

I’ve concluded the answer is Yes. Offices are breeding grounds for the detestable behavior of horrid people. And, by the same token, most of those horrid people are just genetically wired to be jerks—no assembly or external factors required. So, what to do…

Well, a lot of us have chosen to make another option for ourselves, i.e. create a new paradigm, in a different kind of office with fundamentally good people. Sounds like dope-smoking, free-love, kids-running-naked-around-the-commune stuff, I know, but it feels right and, for a lot of folks, actually seems to work. Go figure.

Sure beats the office version of the Thrilla in Manilla.

Not to mention a full kitchen, spacious meeting area and sparkling bathroom facilities, all in a bucolic country setting.

A sweatshop to call our own

(Granted, it’s not exactly a Pennysaver write-up, but it does describe Gabardine’s new offices to a ‘T.’)

That’s right: Gabardine. New offices. Free refreshments. Bathroom. It’s all here in scenic and provocative Westport, Connecticut, where we’ve chosen to put down roots and hang the very first official Gabardine shingle.

The address:

Gabardine
1720 Post Road East
Suite 124
Westport, CT 06880

Main: (203) 635-4322
Fax: (866) 510-7086

It’s a great space, and we’re quickly settling in—just take a gander at the pics; earn extra credit if you can spot Keith’s ubiquitous can of Coke ZERO!

Look at it, in all its majesty

I give that plant a week, tops

Mmmm...smells creative

Most important, the office is a testament to the legitimacy and, indeed, resiliency of Gabardine; an agency born just one year ago (just as the high-flying US markets began their steep descent toward National Recession Airport) and which has survived—thrived, in some respects—despite the prevailing crapstorm that is, regrettably, still the domestic economy.

That’s not to say it’s been all sweetness and light, but we genuinely think the best is yet to come, and if we’ve made it this far under these circumstances, the future’s bound to be pretty awesome.

We hope you agree, and decide to join us for the ride…or at least a refreshing beverage.

Just let us know when you’re dropping by so we remember to bring pants. (It’s always a bottomless work week in Westport—yippee!)

True, it’s not an uncommon occurrence, but this time I’m going public.

It all started innocently enough: An email arrived from SocialMedian, a service that claims to offer news, filtered by your network. And there, under the heading Marketing, was a piece that someone had clipped called ‘Find your voice.’

Normally I’d dismiss such a trite, overused term as another turd in the sea of crap marketing advice, but this was different. The source, was ‘Seth’s blog.’

For those who may not be aware, the term ‘Seth,’ in marketing circles, means Seth Godin. No, really. He’s like Cher, but bald—famously bald, in fact. It’s his trademark, don’tcha know? He’s also an author/blogger/speaker and, in the eyes of many, an all-seeing oracle on things marketing and new media related.

I’ve read a couple of Seth’s books and heard him speak, but the truth is I’ve always been a little dubious of him and, for that matter, others of his ilk. And by that I mean folks who make their primary living telling other people what to do. Whether the subject matter is social media, real estate foreclosure or Dianetics, I just find it difficult to really get behind someone who’s preaching and not doing.

I clicked through to the post anyway. (Warning: The sheer genius of what you are about to read may cause rectal bleeding.)

Find Your voice

Marketing (in all its forms) is unlike everything else an organization does, because it’s always different. There’s no manual because everyone does it differently, and what successful marketers have in common is that they are successful.

The only way your organization is going to make an impact is to market in the way only you can. Not by following some expert’s rules or following the herd, but by doing it in the way that works. For you. Don’t worry about someone else’s invented standards for new media, invent your own. Avoid obvious mistakes, don’t follow obvious successes.

Find your voice, don’t copy someone else’s.

Wow. Still with me, or did you blackout somewhere around ‘what successful marketers have in common is that they are successful?’

Yup, you guessed it: Here’s where the calling bullsh%&t comes in. Because Seth’s blog doesn’t allow comments (which, BTW, sort of defeats the point of social/new media),  I left a quick riposte on SocialMedian, but then I thought about it some more…

This is a joke, right?

‘…market the only way you can’? WTF is that, some self-help bs he got from an EST seminar in 1978?

And I love ‘avoid obvious mistakes.’ Really Seth? Think that’s a good idea? ‘Cause I was just about to infect myself with the h1n1 virus right after I invested all my savings with what remains of the Madoff clan!

The height of irony—or is it hubris?—is the part where Seth cautions that your organization isn’t going to find marketing success ‘by following some expert’s rules…’ Weird, because from what I can tell Mr. Godin makes a nice chunk of change serving as just such an expert. Go figure.

Look, I appreciate that the guy is about as prolific as they come, writing, speaking and consulting like a Jack Russell terrier who got into his master’s meth stash. And it must be damn hard work coming up with new and interesting things to say as often as must be required by the machine that is Seth, Inc. But, with apologies to all you Godin sycophants out there (and it’s true I count many of you as friends), I have to say that with this little bit of profundity the guy has officially jumped the shark.

You know, it’s kind of like what your Mom used to say: If you don’t have anything even moderately worthwhile to say, don’t say anything at all. (I said ‘kind of’ like…)

That’s it for now. But stay tuned, I’ll call again.

Update: re-posted on Fatt Lipp by our good buddy John Fatteross

…And I’m feeling good.

Like the man says

Okay, so I’m no Adam Lambert. (Though it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been likened to a ‘flamboyant’ personality.)

I am, however, extremely excited to announce that Keith Hensel, founder of Designhensels, is joining Gabardine as Principal, Design Director.

Keith’s as comfortable and accomplished in print design as he is in the interactive space. Check out his bio to learn more, or view some of the amazing work he’s done for the likes of GE, Reuters (Thomson Reuters), Walden Media and Maidenform.

In his new role, Keith will oversee all aspects of design for Gabardine, leveraging over 15 years of experience in concept development, art direction, user-centered design, illustration, photography and production. He’s already brought his considerable skills to bear for Gabardine—have you checked out our updated identity?—and will no doubt do the same for our clients.

Equally important, however, is the fact that Keith’s a pretty incredible person. He’s volunteered in Ecuador, South Africa and post-Katrina New Orleans, building homes and shelter for people in need. He chisels stone sculpture in his spare time. He can eat 5 plates of Indian buffet faster than you can say ‘mulligatawny.’ And for more than 10 years now, I’ve been proud to be his friend.

It really is a new start for Gabardine, and I couldn’t be more thrilled. Please join me in welcoming Keith, an integral part of how Gabardine will create Continuous Threads that strengthen and expand the fabric of our clients’ brands.

With all due respect (now I can pretty much say whatever I want, right?) to the advertising and marketing folks who are constantly tripping over themselves to find the next new thing, it’s time to take stock of what really works out there in the marketplace. And by ‘works’ I don’t mean gets some press, a few name-checks on blogs and a brief, one-time sales lift. I mean real, honest-to-goodness brand building that changes the way consumers relate to what you’re selling.

What started me on this latest jag was actually a stunt created by Glow, a BBDO agency in Germany, on behalf of their client, the moderately racy underwear brand Blush Dessous.

New Blush window-wear

Call it ambient marketing. Or interactive display advertising. Or dream up some new label that makes you seem smart; like you’ve discovered a whole new category of communications. Regardless, the genius is in the idea; the sassy, inviting, a little bit risque idea that, coincidentally, is everything, it seems, that the brand wants to be.

Another great example (while I’m exploring my feminine side) is Leo Burnett’s campaign for Tampax featuring Mother Nature and her monthly ‘gift.’

The ads aren’t for everyone, but you’ve got to give it to the people who had the courage to take a bold new step in this anachronistic ad category. They came up with a whole new way to make the marketing relevant and, in so doing, managed to break down a few language barriers, as well. Only a great concept can do that.

In contrast, we have Burger King’s Whopper® Sacrifice.

Sacrificial campaign

Now I’m sure criticizing this year’s most talked-about commercial Facebook app is going to draw some ire, but I’m sorry: It just doesn’t pass the sniff test. BK’s ‘concept’ was to insinuate the brand into social networks with the promise of a free Whopper® in exchange for un-friending 10 people. And after pulling the promotion over a disagreement with FB, they were able to claim that 23,000 meat-like sandwich products were given away for free. Now I’m all for sampling, but that’s ridiculous. The promotion most likely didn’t help BK acquire any new customers. It didn’t inspire loyalty. And it sure as hell didn’t win them any fans among those people who were summarily doinked by their erstwhile ‘friends.’ What it did was prove that a huge brand and an otherwise incredibly talented agency can join forces to create a meaningless Web gimic (when not insulting impoverished villagers in remote parts of the world).

And then there’s Geico’s Kash character: Literally a wad of bills with a pair of dime-store fake eyeballs perched on top. TV spots give this assemblage human qualities and aver that it represents the money you would be saving if you went with Geico. Whatever. And to drive the point home, it was apparently necessary to create a Twitter account for said wad.

Twhat?!

Please note: This is not an open invitation for social media mavens to offer up the myriad ways in which Twitter can be used as a business tool. It’s simply to say that the concept behind Kash is weak at best. As a result, the advertising executions are worse, and the presence of the character on Twitter simply adds insult to serious advertising injury.

So those last examples offer a couple of cautionary tales. The first is that, in a lot of marketing situations, bad publicity really is bad. Not that we as creative professionals should be cowed or limited by what our critics might say. But we have a responsibility as brand stewards to do right by our clients, and to not put them or their businesses in harm’s way just for the sake of indulging our own interests.

The other is that if the foundational concept is mediocre, then no amount of technical or popular wizardry is going to make the work resonant. I know this sounds remedial, but you’d be surprised by how many people actually believe something like the Burger King and Geico campaigns radiate brilliance and come up with elaborate arguments to convince you of the same.

Or is it to convince themselves?

Ahhh, the Interwebs. So vast. So expansive. So chock full of knowledge and information and macrame tips. It truly is a wonder to behold. Even better, you can have one of those ‘web sites’ with amazingly little effort: All you need is a domain to call your own. That, my friends, is where the fun starts. (And by ‘fun’, I mean something akin to what the settlers must have experienced buying snake oil from hucksters out the back of covered wagons.)

Our own story of adventure began innocently enough, by naming the company Gabardine. It was, we agreed, pitch-perfect and rich with meaning, i.e. We come up with big ideas and weave them through a company’s marketing communications, like a continuous thread that strengthens and extends the brand fabric.

But, alas, it seemed that gabardine.com was already spoken for. A ‘domainer‘ had parked a nasty contextual ad-serving page there, and according to Internic, there was a legit owner. What was a young company to do?

Being the creative geniuses we are, it only took a couple of weeks to come up with the novel idea of using gabardinestudios.com, instead. ‘Phew,’ we thought, the prospect of coming up with another doozy of a company name weighing heavy on our minds.

And then, well, we just went about growing our business. You know: Taking meetings. Designing stuff. Breaking in the corporate card. Writing stuff. Snorting NoDoze. Killing it.

Still, something seemed…off. Like we weren’t completely legit because our domain didn’t match our company name. Of course, we knew this was completely irrational and that lots of businesses go the Plan B route because it’s either too costly or too much of a hassle to get the domain they really want. (Group favorite: Open.) But that knowledge wasn’t enough to stamp out the burning flame of domain desire.

So we set about investigating what it would take to make gabardine.com our own. We expected the worst. A king’s ransom, perhaps. A first-born male child. The head of Alfredo Garcia. We were way off.

Our first attempts to contact the domain owner directly were less than successful. Actually, that’s the nice way of saying it. In truth we were given the run-around between what seemed for all intents and circumstances like two different shell companies posing as registrars of gabardine.com and, we’re sure, countless other domains. Fed up and, frankly, a little queasy, we decided to bite the bullet and try a more conventional route of paying the folks at sedo.com to track down the real owner and sort the whole mess out.

…we were engaged in a steel-cage deathmatch with an unnamed, unseen dark force that wanted to suck us dry for the privilege of owning a domain…

Here’s how Sedo works: You pay $69 for them to track down the real domain owner and extend an offer that you pretty much pick out of thin air. Ours was $850. That’s right, 850 smackeroos. The thinking was that if a textile magnate with an interest in finely woven fabrics was out there, s/he’d probably be using the domain productively. This certainly didn’t appear to be the case, judging from the cheesy, squatter-like page that was posted, so we figured $850 was a good place to start the bidding.

According to Bill, a ‘domain broker’ at Sedo, we figured wrong. He said they had contacted the owner, who promptly countered with an offer of $7000. The penny, as they say, dropped. We understood instantly that we were engaged in a steel-cage deathmatch with an unnamed, unseen dark force that wanted to suck us dry for the privilege of owning a domain that s/he most likely obtained by going through the dictionary in the hopes of a nice, fat payday. We reluctantly countered by nearly doubling our offer to $1600, and pointed out that negotiations were officially over.

Bill said he was ‘working closely with a colleague on the deal,’ as the owner was in Korea, and translation was an issue. (Great.) We held our collective breath for a few days and then, lo and behold, the textile magnate agreed to our price! But the fun wasn’t over yet. It took almost two weeks, another Sedo representative (Colin, my Transfer Consultant) and—surprise!—a 10% commision for Sedo before we were able to navigate our way out of the rat hole of wire transfers and domain permissions.

In the end, though, we got the domain we wanted without sacrificing an arm or a leg.

And the experience of being exposed to the seedier side of the Web? Priceless.

So Douglas Bowman’s resignation from Google is making all the rounds, and attracting quite a bit of verbage, so I figure it’s as good a time as any to contribute my 2 cents.

Like all infamous resignations, Mr. Bowman took his employer to task for a variety of sins. In this instance, those sins would seem to reinforce a great many outsider’s (read: my) suspicions about the Do-No-Evil Giant:

“Yes, it’s true that a team at Google couldn’t decide between two blues, so they’re testing 41 shades between each blue to see which one performs better. I had a recent debate over whether a border should be 3, 4 or 5 pixels wide, and was asked to prove my case. I can’t operate in an environment like that. I’ve grown tired of debating such minuscule design decisions. There are more exciting design problems in this world to tackle.”

The inevitable contrasts with Apple have been made (which must mean Google really is the new Microsoft), and the engineering-centric folk have begun to circle the wagons. Oh how quickly bright stars lose their luster in our fickle online world. Sure seems like Google could use a shammy n’ shine these days. Or do they?

What strikes me about Mr. Bowman’s grievances are how absolutely common they are. In my not nearly as illustrious career, I’ve had to deal with both extremes: beancounting engineers wanting a scientific rationale for every minor design change, and Captain Feathersword-types who use buzzwords concepts like “Rapid Prototyping” to mask an inability to make a decision. And while just about every designer has been stymied by such an environment as (apparently) exists at Google, I applaud them for taking it to the next level — 41 shades of blue?! — just as I give props to Mr. Bowman for finally throwing in the towel, realizing that he’s hit an unmovable object. (Plus, it sounds like he got another job anyway.)

But to his central complaint: The man has a point. I love Google. I use it and its tools all day, every day. But its design sucks. Period. I’m not talking about its plainness. I have nothing against minimal design (in fact I love it.) No, I’m talking about its usability. Gmail has some serious issues in this area, but other offerings, including Search, analytics, Apps and others are problematic, as well. And none of them have a similar user interface or navigational structure. In fact, the only commonality between them is that the documentation blows. I use them because, to be honest, they’re the only tools available to do those specific jobs and do them well. I don’t enjoy using them.

NOTE: If you don’t think you should enjoy the tools you use to do most of your work, then perhaps you should re-think whatever it is that you do (pay attention to that statement Adobe. You’re next on my list.)

When someone cares about design, and fights to bring good design to a product, it makes it more human. That doesn’t mean squishy-touchy-feely-granola human, but pleasant to use and, dare I say, fun.

Now expand that to the world of marketing and advertising: When someone cares about their creative work enough to try to connect with their audience on a human level, the result is an ad or a spot or banner that’s just better: More pleasant to look at, easier to comprehend and and a damn sight more compelling. In contrast, slapping a list of bullet-pointed ‘features’ on an ad, or filling space with vacuous marketese is the same as focus-grouping 41 shades of blue. It sucks all humanity from the work — along with any pleasure, arched eyebrow or chuckle — and reduces it to mere ‘data.’

Yuck.

As those who know me will attest, I’m a little OCD about order. (Or, as my teenager says “CDO. It’s like OCD, but the letters are alphabetized. The way they should be.” We always crack up at that last part, ’cause it’s what turns the funny into hysterical.)

Point is, there’s nothing quite like a neat desk or a row of perfectly aligned socks to soothe my inner neurotic. Even a Spring cleaning can get my juices flowing with the promise of less clutter…which equates to more open space…which serves as a clean palette on which to create, well, more orderly groups of things.

This trait has been professional gold in a lot of ways. I can usually spot the tiniest imperfection. The most minute misalignment. The slightest color variation. And it’s been particularly helpful in terms of corporate identity work, where consistency is so critical to establishing the meaning and integrity of a brand.

But there are times when the consistency cops go too far—even for me. In these moments, you invariably hear a lot of talk about how any variation from ‘the system’ can cause confusion in the marketplace, disrupting the customers’ understanding of what the brand stands for, and doing irreparable damage.

paying more attention to Pantone values than customer values can have dire consequences

Folderol (I have ALWAYS wanted to use that word in some sort of meaningful context. Not sure this counts, but hey…).

That’s not to say brand consistency is bunk; just that it’s woefully misunderstood. For too many people, it means ensuring that the same logotypes, fonts and color palettes are used in precisely the way on each branded piece. And while I acknowledge the case for such consistency, I’ve also found that paying more attention to Pantone values than customer values can have dire consequences.

The real meaning of a brand is embodied in how it makes the customer feel; the extent to which it reinforces her beliefs; what she is able to see of herself or what she wants to be reflected in it.

I’ve found the best, most resonant examples of this more emotional branding approach in a couple of today’s more progressive lifestyle companies: DC Shoes and Element: two brands that rode the wave of skateboard culture into the mainstream, but still refuse to play by mainstream rules as far as branding is concerned. Logos are routinely cut off or otherwise bastardized. There are too many fonts to count. And color palette? Fuggetaboutit. For these brands, the entire spectrum is their palette and they’ll use it however they damn well please, thank you very much.

DC's DB Character

Element's Bulls Eye Dartboard

So how do they get away with it? Well, it’s got nothing to do with the fact that they’re ‘rebellious’ or ‘irreverent’ product lines that by their very nature have license to break with convention. That’s selling short the geniuses who built and continue to evolve these brands.

No, they get away with it because while they undoubtedly have a traditional set of brand standards, they refuse to allow them to limit what the brand can become.

Instead, they listen to customers and take stock of the role brands like theirs play in the culture—not just the in the marketplace.

They see that ‘innovation,’ ‘uniqueness’ and ‘edgy’ aren’t just words that belong in a Powerpoint deck, and inject them into new brand expressions.

And they recognize that the importance of consistency, while central to organizing a sock drawer, can be overestimated when it comes to branding.

Jonathan Jarvis has made an excellent motion graphics explanation for the economic apocalypse we’re all currently living through:

The Crisis of Credit Visualized from Jonathan Jarvis on Vimeo.

I worked in the financial services sector for almost 10 years whipping up marketing collateral for technology platforms that enabled trading in things like Credit Default Swaps and other highly dubious financial instruments. In all that time no one that I worked for was able to explain basic concepts like leverage and CDO’s like Mr. Jarvis has done here.

My team often sat in meetings with internal clients discussing the creation of sales brochures and banner ads in order to sell newfangled financial platforms. We were often presented with bullet lists of ‘amazing features’ (or jargon) like ‘sub-millisecond trades‘ and ‘low-latency‘ and told that’s what the customers responded to. I sometimes wonder if no one ever really understood what they were buying and selling, even down to the technology platforms that enabled the trading of these esoteric instruments.

This piece hits a lot of my pleasure centers, a well designed and snappy animation that crunches through a complex subject and presents it in human terms. If only the financial firms and investors had been able to do the same for themselves.