Orangina lets Miss O là là put men in their place

April 11, 2012

Women in control, or controlling women? After a cursorary examination of the latest Orangina ‘Miss O’ offering from the Fred & Farid team in Paris, the answer has to be the latter.

And here’s another execution featuring a female hyena:

Drink Orangina diet drinks, the ads seem to be saying, and far from “staying in control”, you turn into an uncontrollable monster. But maybe French women are so vain, they couldn’t care less anyway.

Of course, my Jekyll and Hyde interpretation of Miss O and her marketing cohort could be – well – a tad literal. What I’m failing to note here is the skilful inversion of gender stereotyping. Really, the new campaign is an ironically amusing way of reminding us that men are the ones who do all the cheating and lying in relationships. The ads raise a few knowing chuckles among the target female audience and sell a bit of product along the way.

Maybe. You decide.

About these ads

Rosenfeld’s wretched road to Mondelez

March 22, 2012

By and large, corporate life is no laughing matter. One exception – and a cause of bottomless mirth at that – is the pompous business of corporate name-minting.

Latest in a long line of jokes is “Mondelez International”. What, you ask? It’s the new monicker for the Kraft spin-off snack business which will shortly be headed by Irene Rosenfeld, after offloading the lumbering US grocery business onto poor old Tony Vernon.

One of Vernon’s few high cards will be the fact that he retains the Kraft name which, whatever its downmarket connotations, has the merit of being agreeably monosyllabic and memorable.

If only we could say the same for Mondelez International. Why, oh why (as The Daily Mail might put it) couldn’t it take the Cadbury name? After all, organisationally and with the exception of a few Kraft legacy brands such as Oreo, Mondelez is the ex-Cadbury company. It faithfully maps Cadbury’s emerging markets strategy and, if it is to achieve the higher margin growth commonly associated with the snack sector, that will in no small part be due to the dominance of Cadbury brands within its portfolio.

Instead of the instant mnemonic, however, we have the instantly forgettable “Mondelez”. Apparently, this was dredged up from an exhaustive trawl of 2,000 ideas – fashionably and inexpensively crowd-sourced from Kraft employees. The ultimate choice was, in fact, a portmanteau word derived from one suggestion fielded in America and another in Europe. Which probably tells you all you need to know about Rosenfeld’s imaginative powers. Camel, horse, committee anyone?

On second thoughts, however, I’m not entirely convinced by this folksy little conceit of hers. “Mondelez” has about it a strong whiff of corporate ID specialist. Allegedly it’s a bit of cod-Latin, derived from a hybrid of mundus (world) and delectatio (delight or pleasure), which is more readily understood by substituting the French modern equivalents “monde” and “délice”. Note the subtle potential French wordplay – Mon délice – perfect but for the fact it is grammatically incorrect, délice being feminine.

What does all this remind you of? Yes, right first time: Diageo, Altria, Aviva and most memorable of all – for the wrong reasons – Consignia. All of these rejoice in being bland latinisms (although Diageo sounds all Greek to me – dia, “through”; geo, “world”: but let’s not get pedantic about it). It seems a curious irony that at a time when interest in classical languages is at an all time low, corporate identity specialists have turned their abuse into a high art form.

And, in their earnestness not to create offence by minting something more meaningful, have often achieved laughable results. Take Aviva for example. On one reading, it could mean “Without life”.

As for Mondelez, which Americans clearly have difficulty in pronouncing, I shall leave you with the wise words of Sharon Shedroff, founder of San Diego consulting firm Strategic Vision Inc:

“Until the brand is established, it will be difficult for people to give it meaning in the US and probably in Asia. Brands under it, like Oreo, could lend credibility to Mondelez.”

So why go to the trouble and expense in the first place?


Just Lovin’ It (Not) – Part 2. McDonald’s chokes on its social media initiative

January 26, 2012

When will brands with a corporate reputation problem finally realise that social media – whatever its siren attractions – is not for them?

Not yet, as evidenced by the so-called “McFail” initiative. Last week, McDonald’s (yes, the Brand the World Loves to Hate, see my earlier post), bought two “promoted tweets” – Twitter’s answer to generating advertising revenue. The aim, apparently, was to persuade McDonald’s customers – those presumably with an excess of serotonin in the bloodstream – to share their happy-clappy experiences with the world.

Surprise, surprise, the clickable Twitter “hashtag” McDStories was (all too easily) purloined by mischievous malcontents. Very soon, instead of reading about McNuggets like Grandma used to make them (not), we were subjected to tsunami-force tirades on alleged animal-welfare abuse, wage slavery, food poisoning induced by McD fare and graphic descriptions of the bodily symptoms that accompany it.

By about 1400 hours Eastern Seaboard Time, D-Day, Operation McDStories had been ignominiously aborted. “Within an hour, we saw that it wasn’t going as planned,” explained a baffled Rick Wion, McDonald’s US social media director. “It was negative enough that we set about a change of course.”

Too right, Rick: a 180 degree one, to avoid losing your job.

Before you ask what planet Rick and his McD chums live on, let me explain: it’s the same one inhabited by the folk at Dr Pepper (owner, Coca-Cola), Nestlé, Wendy’s and Qantas. All of these brands have, at various times, lived under the narcotic delusion that social media is a marcoms nirvana utterly divorced from the everyday travails of brand management – and experienced brutal cold-turkey on discovering it is not.

When they go well, social media campaigns are a dream: they inexpensively capture the zeitgeist. But the gains are purely tactical, while the reverses, however infrequent, tend to have asymmetrical, strategic consequences. Why? Because negative high-profile media coverage brings the feckless actions of Rick and people like him to the immediate attention of their CEOs, for all the wrong reasons. If McDonald’s chief Jim Skinner was previously unaware of Wion’s existence, he is no longer. #McDStories has, with one fell blow, managed to poleaxe Jim’s precious Good News story: burgeoning corporate growth in Q4. Not great for Rick’s career advancement, I suspect.


McDonald’s – the brand the world loves to hate

January 9, 2012

Just lovin’ it? You may be, but you can bet they aren’t. No matter how hard it tries, the world’s biggest restaurant chain by revenue simply can’t strike the appropriate note in its advertising campaigns. In place of plaudits, it invariably earns brickbats.

Now why is that I wonder? Well it’s not the calibre of its marketing people that is the problem. Compared with most global corporations, and certainly most international retailers, McDonald’s puts great store by talent. It attracts people like Jill McDonald, UK CEO and a shoo-in Marketer of the Year in most annual polls. Again against the grain, McDonald’s believes in advertising creativity. Can you remember who does Wal-Mart’s advertising? Neither can I. But I do recall that McDonald’s has retained, in turn, Leo Burnett and DDB.

Here’s DDB’s latest US offering. It’s an apparently inoffensive slice of life campaign, featuring farmers who supply McDonald’s with their beef, potatoes and lettuces. It won’t win any creative prizes, but it’s professionally produced and does a job in stressing an increasingly important element in consumer decision-making: the integrity of provenance.

Pulse and respiration still normal? I’m surprised. Because these ads have created near apoplexy in the USA. Apparently, it’s not what they say (which appears to be accurate enough) but what they leave out that should shock us to the marrow. By means of soft, bucolic imagery, McDonald’s has fooled us into believing it is part of a “farm to fork” movement transporting wholesome vegetables and prime beef cuts directly to our local fast-food outlet. Whilst – wouldn’t you just know it – skilfully omitting all mention of the wicked middle-man who, by perverted alchemy, buys up all this wholesome produce and slices and dices it into the fatty fries and bloating burgers that we more naturally associate with McDonald’s. A case not so much of Golden Arches as Arch Hypocrite.

Far be it from me to defend the fast-food industry, but isn’t this criticism a little harsh? Not, it seems, when the ad campaign emanates from The Great Satan – seducer of little children, agent of obesity and chief representative of all that is most reprehensible about international capitalism.

Given such an unsavoury reputation, you might think McDonald’s on safer ground with this lightly amusing piece of comparative advertising, which pokes fun at its rival Burger King. Small boy in a playground despairs of ever tasting his beloved McD Fries because they always end up being filched by his bigger brethren. Then he hits upon a novel and successful stratagem: hide them behind a BK bag, and nobody will ever want to eat them –

The ad – not unreasonably – won a bronze in the recent Epica Awards. But maybe because it was produced in Germany, it also created a major sense of humour loss, which resulted in humiliating retraction:

“McDonald’s has broken the rules of comparative advertising by degrading the Burger King brand in the TV commercial ‘Packaging.’ McDonald’s and Burger King have agreed that [the spot's] distribution and broadcast … will be stopped,” said a statement from Burger King.

Apparently, the agencies responsible for the ad, Tribal DDB and Heye & Partners, had put it out on the web without seeking permission from their client. It has since attracted hundreds of thousands of viewers on YouTube.

At least McDonald’s is popular with someone.


The way back to La Dolce Vita – ‘legality menus’ served without Mafia topping

January 8, 2012

Regular readers of this blog may recall me recounting the heroic exploits of Libera Terra, an organisation dedicated to freeing the Italian food industry from the baneful influence of the Mafia.

Now I have fresh news to report. Scrupulous gourmands can be assured that not only their pizza, pasta, olive oil, breadsticks and Sicilian wine are untainted by organised crime: the restaurant in which they might aspire to eat them is now also being managed with a clean pair of hands.

Not any old upmarket restaurant either. We’re talking here of Rome’s most famous eaterie, the Café de Paris in the via Veneto – which once played centre-stage in Fellini’s La Dolce Vita. Of late it had fallen on evil times. In place of jet-setters, diplomats and businessmen, its core clientele had become mobsters. Something closely related, no doubt, to the fact that leading ‘Ndrangheta clan the Alvaro family (for which read Calabrian mob) had taken an unhealthy interest in the place.

A criminal investigation launched in 2009 led to the restaurant being put into administration, under legislation that empowers the Italian state to confiscate property owned by mobsters and to restore it to legitimate ownership through such entrepreneurial organisations as Libera.

For long-suffering restaurant manager Marcello Scofano the change of ownership comes as a huge relief. “We went through tough times. Because we rely a lot on foreign customers, the negative reputation abroad had a negative impact on our revenues,” he is reported as saying in La Stampa.

To celebrate a new era, and cement an ethically-cleansed alliance, Scofano has launched what he calls a “legality menu”. And guess what? It consists of dishes exclusively prepared from food grown on Libera’s confiscated estates.

As I said previously: Libera, it’s the ultimate Fairtrade kitemark.


Will Nick Brien succeed in steering McCann off the rocks?

October 13, 2011

McCann WorldGroup is critical to the performance of Interpublic, the world’s fourth largest marketing services group; it provides about one third of its revenues.

Just recently it hasn’t been doing very well, a worrying state of affairs both for IPG shareholders and McCann’s chief executive of about 18 months, Nick Brien.

The fact is, it has not won any major new business under Brien’s stewardship. Worse, it is in deep trouble with two of its core clients, Nestlé and L’Oréal.

Last month, Nestlé expressed the depth of its displeasure by assigning all of McCann’s signature Nescafé business (nearly everything, globally) to rival Publicis Groupe. Reportedly, that’s $25m revenue down the Swanee.

Now comes news that McCann has screwed up its already troubled relationship with beauty house L’Oréal (which, by the way, is about 30% owned by Nestlé).

The Nescafé affair might – might – be written down to bad luck. Clients do move on eventually, even ones like Nestlé that have been with McCann for several decades.

The L’Oréal fiasco (for such it is) can, on the other hand, only be ascribed to McCann’s managerial incompetence. Stay with me, the story’s a bit complicated but bears retailing.

L’Oréal and its Maybelline brand are even bigger business for McCann than Nescafé: together they account for $100m a year IPG revenue, of which 80% comes out of McCann (according to AdWeek).

Historically, the relationship has been somewhat complicated by the fact US creative for Maybelline is handled by another IPG agency, Gotham, although McCann is responsible for adapting and distributing that work throughout the rest of the world.

Thinking, no doubt, that the account could be more efficiently run as a spin-off unit with its own profit and loss account, Brien and his lieutenants have spent the last year, and an enormous amount of money, creating something called Beauty Village.

Beauty Village was set up at the instigation, and with the full collaboration, of Cyril Chapuy – now global brand president of L’Oréal Paris, but formerly in charge of the Maybelline brand.

Client endorsement enough, you would have thought. But apparently not. No one had checked upstairs with the ‘C Suite’ at L’Oréal, with the result that Beauty Village has now had to be razed to the ground, despite all the hullabaloo a couple of months ago attending its launch.

Fairly or not, the buck for this disaster is going to stop with Brien. Already there is innuendo that the former media man has not got the client-handling skills it takes to run an organisation like McCann.

Whether that is actually true I’m not so sure. Media men may be direct rather than placatory by nature, but that has not stopped the likes of Tim Bell and Rick Bendel (formerly COO of Publicis Worldwide, now marketing supremo at Asda) succeeding in more senior roles.

Besides, there may be a silver lining to the cloud now settling over Brien’s head. At first sight the Nestlé and L’Oréal affairs look like unforced errors playing into the hand of Maurice Lévy, head of Publicis Groupe (core clients, both, at Publicis Worldwide). But Lévy has troubles of his own, with the Nestlé relationship at any rate.

For one thing, he has just lost Carter Murray, his key Nestlé point man, to WPP – which poached him as president-CEO of Y&R Advertising North America. Murray managed to raise Nestlé to Publicis’ premier and most profitable client.

For another, Lévy appears to have overplayed his hand by winning the £250m Ferrero European media business last month. Yes, it’s only media and, yes, a small part was already handled by PG media arm Zenith Optimedia. But now that Ferrero has upped the ante, Nestlé is feeling distinctly uncomfortable about sharing a media agency with its most deadly European rival.


Tony the Tiger at 60 – frosted in time?

August 31, 2011

Congratulations, Tony, on reaching your 60th birthday. You’re still one of the Gr-r-reatest ad icons of all time, no doubt about it. The wonder is you’ve managed to survive the punishing lifestyle of a rock-star entertainer almost unscarred. Not only have you outlived Elvis, you’ve done more botox makeovers than Tom Jones and Colonel Gaddafi combined, and yet unquestionably you look a lot fitter than either.

Sometimes I do worry, though. How many more happy returns can you have? You see the trouble is all entertainers – no matter how versatile, how willing to change with the times – have a shelf-life. Even with an agent as market-wise as Leo Burnett behind you, there will come a time when the Tony schtick no longer connects with contemporary audiences.

I was reminded just how far you had come in your career by a glimpse of one of your early performances. It was an ad from 1962, I think.

Goodness me, how permissive we were in those days with the sugar drug. Why, you and your gang (you did a lot more group appearances then) were pushing it with more abandon than an LSD love-in. The gig was Kellogg’s Sweet-eatin’ carnival time and you were all at it, shamelessly trying to get kids to ingest the stuff with the seductive promise of a brand-new shilling(!). There was Yogi Bear dancing on his Sugar Smacks, Noddy being twicicles as nicicles on his Ricicles, some stick insect who looked a bit like Uncle Sam doing an All Stars routine, and Coco on his Pops prancing about in an ethnically insensitive ‘Black and White Minstrel’ mask. Most of all, though, I remember you fronting the act – a leaner, younger, more whimsical version of yourself admittedly, but clearly identifiable with today’s butch, muscle-bound football persona if only because of the stripes.

They’ve all passed into history now. But you, a reformed user and pusher of the sugar drug, how did you survive and go on to be a leading healthy lifestyle advocate?

Well I guess it’s because you’re smarter than the average Yogi Bear. Even though the health police are out to get you for covertly promoting a sugar-coated cereal to young children, you always manage to stay one step ahead of the law.

I caught up with your latest act the other day and have to say your audience manipulation skills are undimmed by time. Which, sadly, is more than can be said of your moral message.

There you were on American television (ESPN sports network, I think) – Dad, Son, and Tony – tossing a ball about in the backyard, every inch the healthy football aficionados. Then it’s cut to the kitchen for some post-game flakes underlined by the suggestively saccharine voiceover: ”Share what you love with who you love.”

All these loaded associations – sport, sugary foods, kids – are close to the line these days. If not illegal, they soon will be. But here, Tony, you and your impresario Kellogg have been very clever. The campaign is not ostensibly aimed at children at all. It cashes in on the brand nostalgia of dads, who have probably known Tony all their lives. It just so happens that more and more American men are doing the shopping these days. And that’s what you are tapping into. Or so you say.


Mafia-free pizza – the ultimate fairtrade product

August 23, 2011

Ever worried that “fairtrade” may be just a label, camouflaging unspeakable exploitation and corruption beneath flimsy ethical sticking-plaster? If so, the latest Human Rights Watch report on South Africa’s booming wine industry will have confirmed your worst suspicions. HRW would have us believe the Paarl and Stellenbosch we glug so freely is produced by workers living in pig-sty conditions.

So where should the ethically squeamish turn for food and drink of unimpeachable integrity?

Fear not: I have the answer. Out with that Stellenbosch and in with Placido Rizzotto, a wine made exclusively from grapes grown on a mafia don’s confiscated vineyard.

And if Rizzotto (named after a famous Sicilian union leader bumped off by the mob in 1948) isn’t to your taste, then how about some bottles of Calabrian olive oil, or Pugliese breadsticks?

All courtesy of a consortium called Libera Terra (Free Land), set up in the last decade to farm the estates of convicted mobsters.

Libera Terra’s success has been based on a simple proposition. However delicious those sun-dried tomatoes, artichokes, mozarella and focaccia, you can never be quite sure where they come from. Organized crime has its grubby paws on quite a lot of the Italian organic food industry. Particularly in the south, home of Cosa Nostra, the Camorra and the ‘Ndrangheta.

Legislation passed about 13 years ago has begun to change all of that. Organisations like Libera Terra were encouraged to come forward and exploit confiscated mafia estates for social benefit. Something like 4,500 estates (not all of them farms – villas and apartments as well) have been expropriated and passed into the hands of student cooperatives during that time.

Libera Terra acts not only as a kind of kitemark, offering quality and ethical reassurance, but also as a marketing agency for groups of approved co-operatives.

The latest financial update to come my way suggests a turnover of about $6m. A figure the more remarkable given that it has been achieved in the teeth of torched mafia-free vineyards, vandalised farm equipment and systematic intimidation by the relatives of jailed mafiosi.

All very well, you say, but where do you get this stuff? Ah. Until recently distribution has been confined to Italy – mainly through specialist outlets, but one or two supermarkets as well.

Now, however, Libera Terra is branching out, with a marketing push in the rest of Europe. I gather Germany is the principal target. The Germans are so right-on about these things that they have published a list of 400 Sicilian businesses which refuse to pay the pizzo (mafia protection money). The idea is to give German tourists the option of shopping only at places that don’t line mafiosi pockets.

Whether Britain is also in Libera Terra’s sights I have no idea. For those who can’t wait to eat their pizza minus pizzo, I suggest tackling the organisations’s website, where a number of products can be bought direct (although only by businesses it seems).


Kraft split raises more doubts about value of Cadbury takeover

August 4, 2011

On hearing that Kraft intended to split it operation into two, the first image that came to my mind was that of the Grand Old Duke of York.

Hopefully (for the sake of shareholders if no one else) Kraft chief Irene Rosenfeld’s grasp of tactics is superior to that of the benighted generalissimo. But we cannot be sure at this stage and nor – judging by their confused reaction – are some of Kraft’s investors.

True, one of the most tiresome of these – corporate raider Nelson Peltz, who has been endlessly belabouring Rosenfeld for Kraft’s dead-in-the-water share price – thinks it’s a great idea to split the lumbering behemoth into a fast-track candy and snacks company centred on emerging markets (and by implication double digit growth) while leaving the dreary North American grocery business to slumber on as a “yield centre” with a no-hope share price.

According to his logic, Rosenfeld has been playing a long and crafty (sorry) strategic game, in which the $19bn Cadbury hostile takeover was only the first move. Rosenfeld needed Cadbury for its dominance in emerging markets, so she could reshape Kraft’s existing snack lines into a global growth business. Warren Buffett, another long-time Rosenfeld critic, seems to have adopted the same line, albeit in more muted language.

Having met Rosenfeld, I can attest that she indeed a very sharp cookie. But whether she has been that crafty I – and rather more importantly, many members of the investment community – have reason to question.

Undoubtedly she has been limbering up a dramatic piece of financial engineering for some time. But maybe that’s all it is: one last, opportunistic, throw of the corporate dice to get two of her most irksome and powerful critics off her back.

Here’s the flaw in the grand strategy theory. If Rosenfeld had the idea of capturing access to developing markets all along, how come she so successfully managed to jettison all the senior people who knew anything about exploiting them? I am of course talking about virtually the entire senior tier of Cadbury management, which formed a queue to the exit within months of the takeover in early 2010.

I am afraid Kraft lifer Tim Cofer – if that’s who ends up getting the top job at Kraft Snacks and Candy – simply won’t cut the mustard by comparison.

If Kraft, in buying Cadbury, was merely parlaying itself into the world’s emerging markets, it chose a peculiarly clumsy and perverse way to do it.


Will Cadbury’s Bond quit Kraft in the wake of Clarke’s defection to Premier Foods?

July 14, 2011

The City has given Mike Clarke, Premier Foods’ incoming chief executive, the most rousing welcome imaginable: a 35% increase in the beleaguered conglomerate’s share price.

Maybe institutional investors were simply cocking a snook at his predecessor, Bob Schofield, who saddled the company with a mountain of increasingly unmanageable debt. But I don’t think so.

Clarke comes well recommended as a capable pair of hands, and for good reason. A former Coca-Cola and Reebok man, he has run Kraft’s $12bn European operation since early 2009. As such, he was entrusted with the delicate and difficult task of hitching Northfield Illinois’s lumbering HumVee to Cadbury’s Roller – something he achieved with surprising adroitness, given the circumstances.

Clarke’s departure will not be welcomed by the dwindling number of Cadbury executives who opted to stay on, post-merger. His successor Tim Cofer, who took over the confectionery division in the wake of Tamara Minick-Scokalo’s unscheduled departure last year, is seen as a bit of a Kraft clone who doesn’t really “get” Europe.

More materially – I’m told – Cadbury’s most senior remaining executive, Trevor Bond, coveted the top job given to Cofer. Bond, who used to be in charge of Cadbury’s UK operation, initially made a successful transition to overseeing Kraft’s European division. But with the career ladder wrenched away from him, he may well feel it’s time to turn his back on life in Zurich and return to his Birmingham roots.

If he goes, will the last Cadbury executive standing please switch off the light?


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