I had a slight backlog on my TED videocasts and I went through a few them today. One of the videos I watched was Joseph Pine’s 2004 TED talk. This was before he had published the book Authenticity with Jim Gilmore, but this presentation is pretty much on the same stuff that’s being talked about in the book.

The book is essentially about authenticity becoming our (the consumers) primary buying sensitivity. First goods, then services, and now even experiences have become commoditized, so marketers have no choice but to offer authentic experiences. Or at least sell their experiences as more authentic as the competitors’. I had blogged about the book when it came out and I was going to revisit the subject at some point, but I never got around to it. But this is a good reason as any to revisit the subject.

One of the main tenets that stuck with me with the book was this little 2×2 diagram that Pine also had in his TED talk. It’s a screencap, so apologies for the quality.

The diagram has two axis: “it is what it says it is” and “it is true to itself”. What they mean is best illustrated via examples. The “Fake Fake” is rather self-explanatory, but for “Real Fake” Pine says that a tour at Universal Studios is a good example of this: it is real and it is what it says it is (being in Hollywood and a real studio), but it’s fake in the sense that it’s not really “true” to Hollywood because it offers a view behind the scenes, removing the veil of mystery behind Hollywood films. With “Fake Real” Pine says that Disneyworld is the perfect example: it’s not what it says it is – “It’s not a magic kingdom”, as Pine says – but it’s wonderfully true to itself in the sense that the experience is so wonderfully immersive and passionate, that it really captures the feeling of “magic kingdom”.

Which brings us to “Real Real”. When I was watching the TED talk it hit me that for cultural brands, of course, the goal is to embody both categories of “real”: they are both what they say they are and they are true to their selves. The “Real Real” distinction is a new way to conceptualize and complement Douglas Holt’s distinctions of brand literacy and brand fidelity.

Holt says that brand’s should demonstrate an understanding of its supporting demographic’s “populist world” and its custom’s and idioms (literacy). The brand should also understand its place in this populist world and play to it (like Harley does to biker culture and Apple to the creative industries). This is where the “it is what it says it is” comes to play: a brand must neither overstate nor deny its place in the populist world. Examples of brands trying to claim a stake in a subculture and failing are too numerous to list (especially brands trying to ride the hip hop craze in the late 90s), but the shoe brand Timberland tried to do the opposite, it tried to deny its place as a hip hop icon and suffered for it. As for brand fidelity, Holt argues that brands should honor their roots and sacrifice pandering to the masses by thinking populist world first. I think this can be seen as “staying true to itself” in many ways.

In short: brands should first understand what they are and what they mean to a given populist world (build brand literacy) so that they can “be what they say they are”. If no such links to relevant subcultures exist, then a brand should look to build and nurture meanings that have the potential to become such connections. Once the brand understands itself and its place, it should look to nurture this connection (show brand fidelity/be true to itself) and not alienate its core constituency as the brand grows in popularity.

Easier said than done, though.

The cultural dynamics of so-called new retro products is something that I’ve tried to get my head around for a while now, and now that Adidas has a new website out for Adidas Orginals, I thought I’d discuss the topic a bit. I’m a certified Adidas fiend, I think I have over eight adidas track jackets (both old and new) and seven pairs of sneakers, so this is as much self-analysis as it is brand analysis.

Adidas is one of those brands that can boast to have true cultural icons in their offering. For example, the Adidas Superstar, which was made famous by Run DMC in the 1980s, or the Copa Mundial, which was THE soccer shoe in the 1970s all the way up to the 1990s. Their three stripe design has remained iconic on track suits and shoes alike.

It’s my educated guess that their ageless design contributed heavily to their popularity at second hand shops and flea markets, which started sometime in the 1990s. I’ve personally paid over 60€ at a second hand shop in Berlin for a used, worn down track jacket that I just HAD to have (am I right, ladies?).

I have three theories as to why having an original design became a identity badge. One option is that Adidas’ business and cultural meaning changed in the 1990s so that the “old” Adidas designs became a way to protest the new direction (for example, Adidas had ditched the old classic logo in 1991). Another option is that old designs became a way to distinguish your worthiness as the brand’s fanatic: if anybody could buy new, and rather similar designs than the old ones at any store, then old ones are a way to create scarcity and exclusiveness for the brand. A third option is that a culturally relevant subculture took the old Adidas designs as their own, and this cultural meaning appealed to the rest of the population.

The truth is probably something relating to all three, but my guess is that the latter two are the strongest drivers for the trend.

It didn’t take long for Adidas to pick up on the trend of their old stuff being in high demand and gear their efforts to ride this trend. In time, Adidas had launched Adidas Originals, a separate line from the new mother brand that deals exclusively in classic designs. Adidas Originals even has their own concept stores around the world, and they have plans to add more of these in the future.

For Adidas, the goal with Adidas Originals has always been to convince people that they are the same thing as finding similar designs at second hand shops. It’s a nearly impossible proposition, but to me they’ve managed to sell people the idea that buying an Adidas Original is “good enough” quite well. They’ve also managed to create some scarcity for the designs, which was essential with second hand finds, by having a large collection of different designs but keeping the designs as limited editions.

In advertising campaigns they’ve celebrated their heritage with old Adidas icons (such as Gerd Müller and Run DMC) to create a credible link between new and old. The website they’ve just launched is about “celebrating originality” and Adidas’ 60 year heritage as a brand. They’re constantly balancing between having it as a retrospect, but also going forward with promoting the new and retro designs.

It’s an interesting exericise in meaning management from Adidas, and I think they’ve handled it quite well.

Nowhere was this more apparent than in the restaurants. Whenever we stopped in front of a restaurant to check out the menu, it was nearly identical to the one next to it. Practically all restaurants in Rome had the same pastas (arrabiata, pomodoro etc.) and pizzas (margherita, quattro formaggi etc.) on their menus. After three nights of dining out, I was more than ready to try something different – anything but Italian.

The reason for this phenomenon is obvious: Rome attracts hundreds of thousands of tourists every year (especially American, as I observed), and they expect a certain “authentic Italian experience”. The trouble is, what tourists perceive as authentic or Italian is often quite clichéd and limited, because they know so little of Italy beforehand. That’s why restaurants trim their menus to match the tourists’ expectations.

This leads to a very interesting phenomenon: as all the restaurants race to meet the tourists’ expectations, they become basically identical, cannibalizing each others’ market share and of course, their collective authenticity. I even thought of a name for this phenomenon: involuntary franchising. After just a few meals eating out in Rome became as special as eating at a McDonald’s.

There were more examples, of course. Touring the Colosseum with hundreds of other tourists listening to a dry and unenthusiastic presentation through hand-held speakers felt about as remarkable as a sitcom re-run. The lack of exclusiveness often killed the authentic experience (like I said, I loved St. Peter’s because for some reason it wasn’t very crowded that day).

I wonder if it were be able to tour the Sistine Chapel at night in a group of, say, 10 people at 1000$ per head? THAT would be something to tell home about.