I’ve been given guideline directives. A 44 page brand guideline book and a 26 page copy guideline book stand out. The brand guideline book was a minutely detailed straitjacket and the client’s past advertising suggested its rules were inviolable forever. The copy guideline book invited me to write exactly the way I like to – and was in direct defiance to the agency brief I was given as a freelancer (dilemma). You probably hate guidelines too. Rob Morrison has a fascinating viewpoint about that. Here it is:
If you’ve worked in adand more than a minute, you’d have heard it a thousand times. In briefings. In reviews. In presentations. You may have even uttered it under your breath yourself.
“The brand guidelines are too restrictive.”
Why? Because your latest idea works better in a different colour, with a different typeface, or with different photography style. It works better as animation not live action. Or in mono. Or in 2D. And, it probably does. But here’s the problem.
Brands are fragile. Really fragile.
As much as we all position ourselves as experts, none of us really know what ties our audience to the brands in our custody. It might just be that colour, typeface or photography style we’re railroading against. Let me give you an example.
I like to think I’m pretty brand literate. I’ve been part of this silly business for 25+ years. I’m also pretty brand loyal. I buy Levi jeans and Doc Martins. I wear Ben Sherman shirts and Ray Ban sunglasses. And don’t get me started on my loyalty to sporting teams (no really, don’t).
I was also intensely loyal to my brand of beer. In pubs across this city I ordered it, almost exclusively. A brand which took cues from craft beer. Two-colour label. Faux Aussie heritage. Retro carton. In bottle shops I sought it out. Bought cases of the stuff. It was like that comfortable pair of jeans, shoes or sunnies. It fit.
But not now.
In what I can only assume was the lightbulb moment for a new marketing director, they changed the label. It now looks like it was designed in Powerpoint by a Year 9 student (no offence to all my Year 9 readers). The proportions are all out of whack. They’ve added a nasty metallic foil. Same price. Same size. Same formula. Same taste. But it’s just wrong.
So, I’m out.
Now, my ego is not so large I think my behaviour is matched by every other drinker. I don’t really believe that same brewery marketing director is losing sleep over signing off their new packaging. But it is a lesson in how every variation can have a negative impact.
Here’s an example with a larger sample size.
For years I worked on the Optus business – when the Optus brand equaled animals. All sorts of animals. It was a set of handcuffs most of us in the creative department hated. Conceptual work was restricted to asking; “What animal is a good analogy for this service?” Is it fast? Leopard. Is it bigger? Elephant. Is it good for kids? Pick a tadpole, cub or egg. Originality was really difficult.
Even when the account moved from George Patts to M&C the animal analogies remained. For years, creatives wrestled with new ways to deliver old analogies. And there was some terrific work done. I tip my hat to everyone who worked in that tiny little playground of the brand.
Years later (putting my own ego aside), I could finally see why others fought so hard to keep animals at the core of the brand. It gave Optus a consistency. It glued all their communications together. It gave them a genuine difference.
So, next time you argue to break a brand guideline, just double-check whether it’s actually a good idea long-term.
Or are you in danger of throwing away a loyal drinker with a new label?
Cheers.
Rob Morrison is a rarity in advertising – a grey-haired creative. Rob’s experience includes time as a Creative Director at Ogilvy, BWM (now BWM Dentsu), George Patterson Y&R (now VMLY&R), Campaign Palace and Wunderman. He now runs his own consultancy – morrison.collective.
Here are two more opinion pieces from Rob Morrison: