Jude Hammerle
Over the past fifteen years, as I clawed my way grudgingly to whatever level of maturity one calls this, two realities overtook me.
First, I grew to understand that I am part of something much bigger. Specifically, there are forces that make things work, and my instinctive judgment is not one of those forces.
Second, I began to see my heroes for what they are. My heroes have always been brands, and what they are now is much, much less than I remember them being. Even those with increasing sales have ceded large measures of their cultural significance.
Coke, Pepsi, 7Up, Dr. Pepper. AT&T, IBM. GM, Chevy, Buick, Oldsmobile and Pontiac. Ford, Lincoln, and Mercury. Chrysler. Mercedes Benz. Burger King. Macy’s, Sears, Kmart. Hilton, Marriott, Hyatt. Coors, Miller, Heineken. Seagram. Firestone. Schick. Hasbro and Mattel. Barbie. Toys R Us. Nabisco. Sony. Adidas and Reebok. ABC, NBC and CBS. The NBA. The Yankees. America Online. Pan Am, TWA, American, United. The Senate. The Oval Office.
This pantheon of shrinking brands is most noteworthy in light of their past opulence. These were the champion spenders! They had the resources to live large for all eternity. Good people invested those resources with the advice and consent of other good people schooled in the art and science of persuasion. But something went wrong. These hard, glittering badges we collected at no small cost are now soft and tarnished–some beyond remedy.
Implicated in the decline of these great brands are myriad narrow tactical ideas that have masqueraded for too long as strategy–ideas like hip, smart, clever, elegant, proven, human, fresh, retro, artful, stylish, glamorous, trendy, talented, proud, productive, worldly, technical, historic, quirky, American, global, definitive, flashy, cool, glitzy, surprising, educated, authentic, effective, professional, original, noble, extreme, fabulous, magical, soulful, fashionable, unique, new, and many, many others.
This book presents in words and pictures my contention that the prevailing concept of branding strategy is defective. A brand is not a single point in perceptual space, and the boundaries of that space are not a playground for subjective judgment. A brand is not a narrow idea to be hammered home with the force of $millions. A brand is different things to different people, all at once. Am I suggesting that your brand should be all things to all people? Actually, I’m insisting that it must be more things to more people, or risk joining the burgeoning ranks of the less significant. To bolster my dissent, I will propose a new approach to strategy that works much better.
In scientific terms, How Sex Sells is a hypothesis supported by observations. In the parlance of art, this is the work of an Impressionist, sketched quickly with broken strokes of unmixed color. The important colors reappear frequently, so even inveterate skimmers should get the gist of my solitary, cathartic scream.*
This post is an excerpt from How Sex Sells: The Persuasive Power of Identity, a work in process.
* Okay, so maybe I’m an Expressionist.
Posted by Jude 
