Why I'm carving "LV" on my wallet.

       Teaching fashion marketing has changed me forever. I like the subject, the students, and the intellectual challenge. It has also changed my world view.

       Here's one example. A week or so ago I was reading about the U.S.-Japan women's soccer game. Not really reading so much as fascinated by the color photo.  It showed American Abby Wambach and Japan's Saki Kumagai head to head with the soccer ball. Did I notice the joy of victory or the agony of defeat on their grimacing faces? 

       No. I noticed that Ms. Kamagai was wearing beautifully colored nail polish. Even in battle her nails were a  work of art.

       A couple of Sundays ago I attended the Picasso exhibit at the De Young Museum here in San Francisco. It was from the National Picasso Museum in Paris, an extensive show through all of the artist's periods --- starting way before his Pink Period and including household decorations and sculpture.

       Which painting caught my attention most intensely? It wasn't a painting. It was the photos of Picasso right before the entrance to the exhibition. What he was wearing, how he presented himself with his family and friends. I made mental notes and now know how to dress if I want to become a famous Spanish painter.

        Fashion, of course, is an art in itself, and has a challenging place in commerce, as well. I'm caught up in both. 

        The tensions between art and commerce, style and emotion, cultural artifacts and sexual attraction, tradition and trends --- these create the ecology of fashion and I'm thriving in it.

         I look at a beautiful woman these days and what's the first thing I see? Beautiful legs terminating in espadrilles.

I love people who love fashion, but why are they so fickle?

        I wish I had met Kennedy Frazer 25 years ago, when I was younger and more flexible. She was the fashion critic of the New Yorker since 1970, and fashion's given her much to criticize. Please remember, criticism is a gift.

       In her piece "The Secret Power of Dress", Ms. Frazer says "we hardly notice the technical details of clothes and have only vague impressions of cut, cloth, and trimmings. Dressing and the choice of clothes is for most women an emotional, illogical business."

       Maybe that's why fashion advertisements are emotional and illogical.

       In a fashion marketing class I taught a while back, I asked the students to please explain a Dior ad I had found. It showed a close-up of a beautiful woman with a shoe on her head. Repeat: shoe on her head. The students couldn't explain it, so I decided to call Dior in New York.

       The advertising manager wasn't in, but the assistant was. I told her I was calling about the woman with a shoe on her head. "I need someone to explain it," I said. "Explain what?"asked the assistant. "Explain why the woman has a shoe on her head," I answered calmly. "Oh, that was the photographer's idea. He said it's never been done before,"she calmly explained.

       I was beginning to lose my calm. "Why is a shoe on a woman's head a good way to sell things that normally go on the feet?" I asked. The assistant had an answer: "It's art. And  Dior is selling art." I had a question: "Are your customers buying art or are they buying shoes?" She said I'd have to ask the advertising manager.  I thanked her for her help.

      Back to Ms. Frazer. She writes about spending a good deal of money on fashionable clothes. "The shopper is often panic stricken as the dress is carried away to be wrapped, but likes to grip the handle of the box on its return. The dress worn three times becomes as friendly as a pair of slippers, or else an embarrassment...If, for many women, the choice of clothes is an anxious, irrational affair, it is made doubly so by our craving to be fashionable."

      Does this sound like art to you? Do we put Dior and other fashion brands on a pedestal? Is there really room for a pedestal in our closets? Well, there's probably a great place for that pedestal in our psyches.

How to be anti-social.

       Everyone talks about social media these days, but actions speak louder than words.

       A lot of advertisers really don't know how to act in public, and social media is the worst place to prove it. Here are some examples of where they go wrong:

       1. They crash the party. Everybody else is here to share and learn, but these advertisers want to turn your group into an infomercial. We instantly turn into human delete buttons.

       2. They're hard of listening. One of the best things about social marketing is that you can learn what your customers think about you, the good and the bad. That might be the best way to think of social media---as listening posts. You'll get new ideas for product improvements, language you can use in videos, and find out what people see as your shortcomings. Some companies like Gatorade have whole departments that listen, not talk.

       3. They consume social media, but don't really contribute. First you listen; then you contribute. That's the order. Contribute ideas that can move the discussion forward; add thoughts that can give people another  valid way of looking at things; offer tips, suggestions, and empathy, or a place where others can. It's not so much being uncommercial as being a friend to consumers, the way Johnson & Johnson does with their new mom page.

       4. They interrupt. We social media users don't appreciate commercial intrusions. It's the surest way to bring everything to a halt. Now, we understand that YouTube needs some income, and so we put up with the ads because their service is so terrific. But be careful on Facebook and Twitter. What you really want to do is help. Do something for a charity. Support the arts. Start a sweepstakes that will reward people. Offer an online game relating to the interests of other users. Teach something valuable.

     5. They think of social media as more media. It's not, really. Certainly they allow you to reach people, many times by their specific interests. But you can't just use social media any way you want to just because you're the one paying. On social media, think of yourself as a host who prides herself on a lively party. And if you can't be that, at least be a good guest. But don't come in blasting on your megaphone.

     That's not difficult, is it? Remember, the world is not about Facebook, or social media. The world is about people. What they're interested in, not you.

Who's the real public for those public service ads?

       Some of the best ads on TV are public service ads. Also some of the worst.

       That's because of the way they're handled by advertising agencies. They're usually done pro bono, and when you work for nothing, that changes everything.

        For some agencies I worked for, pro bono work was a blessing. It gave creative people a break from tough, rigid clients. It also gave them a chance to win awards for the agency, when their regular clients' requirements didn't. So they put their best people on it, and let them show off in a world of show-offs.

       For other agencies, public service work was a pain. It always seemed to come at a busy time, used up resources, upset the normal work flow, and diverted attention from clients. So they put their interns and "kids" on it, and the results were, well, uneven.

        I always loved working on public service advertising. The clients were usually grateful, and let you do your thing. Illustrators, designers, and photographers could be leaned on to contribute their efforts, and we creative people were given free rein to do what we thought was right. Even if it was wrong.

       The work can be gratifying. One public service client of mine was the U. S. Department of Health and Human Services. We did the anti-smoking commercials for the government. They only wanted smokers to work on their account, and pack-a-day Harv headed up the crew. When we held meetings, secretaries were  afraid to come in the conference room, because the smoke was so thick. The most famous commercial we did was with Brooke Shields when she was about 16, explaining exactly how she felt about boys who smell from cigarette smoke.

       I've also done work for the United Way (Saul Bass did the logo for us); the Red Cross; The University of Michigan; the ARC; and even the Oakland Ballet and the Oakland Police Department. And the question always comes up: how do TV stations decide which public service ads to run? The answer might surprise you.

       It's not the client or the agency; not even the top dogs at the networks or stations. It's usually left up to the dead-tired engineer on duty, who has a shelf full of them. He picks the ones he personally likes to see, and plays them over and over again.

       Now you know why our Brooke Shields commercial was one of the most frequently-aired commercials in America.

The man with the carmine red mind.

          Fletchie was my first ad agency copy chief. His real name was Douglas Fletchmore, but to the writers, Fletchie seemed more appropriate.  He lived by day in a small office furnished sparingly. His desk, two hard chairs, a glass filled with red pencils, and an ash tray for visitors. No other sign of human life.

          Hover by his door and he'd say one of two things. Either "not now" or "what've you got?" If it was the first, you'd come back in three hours. If it was the second, you'd plunk yourself down and show him what you've written. When it came to grabbing a red pencil, he was the quickest draw in town. He'd look at my hard-wrought ad writing, rolling his red pencil thoughtfully between his fingers.

        "Good," Fletchie would say, "Good." Then he would dive in. "But what if we just did this." He would proceed to cross out my headline and write in one of his own. "You did a nice job," he would say, "but if we change that, we'll have to change the next sentence." Red pencil, new sentence. And so on, until my copy looked like it was bleeding to death. Which it was.

        When the surgery was over, Fletchie would hand me back my copy. "Good job, Harvey, get it typed." I never knew whether that meant job security or a death sentence, but I was glad to get out of there and show everybody so they'd feel sorry for me.

         I asked my friend Dennis about the situation. Dennis said, "He does the same thing to me. I just type words on paper. Doesn't matter what they are. They're red-pencilled to oblivion anyway."

         Having a boss is never easy. Fletchie was always very gentle and calm. When I quit the agency to go somewhere else, I got a call from Fletchie a year later. He asked me to come back, for a nice raise. But I still shiver when anyone --- colleague or client --- picks up a red pencil. Once I told Dennis I wished Fletchie would do that with Hemingway.

        Hemingway would tell him what he could do with that red pencil.

     

Everything was great till Cinderella.

     The president of Cadillac's and Pontiac's ad agency liked me. Up to a point. We couldn't really get close  because he owned an El Dorado and I drove a Tempest convertible. The only place those two met were in the agency's lobby.

       I liked him because he knew the purpose of advertising. He even wrote a book about it, and gave copies to all of us  employees. I was impressed, never realizing that Bill Bernbach and Leo Burnett, two truly monumental figures in advertising, never had time to write a book. They were busy writing ads.

       In addition to running the Cadillac account at the agency, the president also supervised the Hush Puppies account. Hush Puppies are the soft, brushed pigskin shoes that became a big hit with artists in Greenwich Village. Today Hush Puppies would heavily use social media to get the word out. At the time, television could do the job the best.

      My art-diector partner Marty and I were given this challenge. The agency would give us carte blanche to do an "out of the box" commercial for Hush Puppies. The agency would pay for it to be produced before the client even heard about it. If the client liked it, it would go on the air, and Marty and I could do another one the same way. If the client didn't like it, the deal would be over.

      We jumped at the challenge. The first commercial we did was called "Barefoot", about all the ways our feet help us and why, "whether you have men's feet or women's feet", they deserve Hush Puppies. I wrote it on a yellow pad on the floor of my bedroom, and Marty did the storyboard the next day. We produced it, the client loved it, it went on the air and won awards.

      Then we did another commercial the client loved, and it won awards, too.

       The third commercial we created was about a spoiled American "princess" from Brooklyn. It was the Cinderella story about the glass slipper found after the ball. "It's not mine, Mr. Leotards-from-the-Prince; I only wear Hush Puppies!" she said.  The jig was up. So was the gig. The client didn't understand it, didn't want it on the air, and probably wanted it out of his office. Marty and I were in shock, and the agency lost all the production costs.

       Marty and I went on to other things, spending months getting new clients for the New York branch of the agency. But there was one thing I learned for certain. In advertising, it doesn't take long to turn back into a pumpkin.

 

The write-to-work state

     Annie, a friend of mine in Toronto, got the word to me on Linked In that I've really got it made...sitting in cafes in Berkeley and writing.

      Annie isn't wrong. But then, writers always have it made. All they need are a pen, paper, and a brain. The rest just happens. Sort of.

      There are times I've written ads or commercials on hotel beds, airplanes, the St. Francis Hotel lobby, Canadian railroad stations, museum luncheonettes, and on the floor in my house, watching TV. (One commercial I wrote on the floor of my bedroom --- about why you owe your feet comfortable shoes --- went on to win my first Addy.)

       When students tell me they can stare at their laptops for hours and nothing happens, I remind them that laptops can't write and maybe they should close them and just let their minds wander for a while. Or even better, just to think about the customer, and what she's interested in and how you can help her.

       There are a lot of writers and art directors who are into techniques, instead of ideas. They're always looking for something that's never been done before, such as the first car commercial that doesn't show the car. (Someone tried that for introducing the Infinity. Nobody showed up at the showrooms. The client changed agencies.)

        One of my friends at DDB in New York tried for months to create "The World's First Engine Transplant" for the VW. It was a parody on heart transplants, and the idea was for the VW to reject another car's engine. He couldn't make it work, and that's probably a good thing.

        Writers all have tricks to get their juices flowing.  Mine is to imagine Woody Allen talking to Annie Hall. Once I get that out of my system, I try other directions...Bob Newhart, a whispering Marilyn Monroe, two detectives, three bank robbers, and so on.

        The main thing is to read and write every day. It's fun and Annie's right. Be an art director or copywriter and you've got it made. Just be prepared for it to take longer to finish your latte.