The future isn't what it used to be.

       There's another television show heading our way to keep us in the "Mad Men" mood. It's ABC's new "Pan Am", about Pan American World Airways in 1963.

       It's being sold to advertisers as the first time that television has taken a dead brand and made a regular program about it. Maybe we're about to find out why.

       Pan Am was a big, prominent airline with a magnificent history. Its Clipper flights to South America made it world famous, and its flights to Paris, Rome, Israel and everywhere else made it world-wide. There are plenty of opportunities for drama in the airline industry, of course, and plenty of opportunities for romance with the crew. NBC is playing in the same '60s ballpark this year with its "Playboy Club". 

       Dennis Riney, executive V.P. of Brand Logic, a consultancy in Wilton, Conn., told Advertising Age that "Brands like Pan Am and Playboy are emotional signposts that transport us back to an era when America was number one. Now that we're not even AAA-rated, we long to experience the swagger of the Rat Pack Era and a lusty, boozy lifestyle we used to call class." I'm not sure that's what it is.

       It's good to see old styles and traditional values back in play in good old-fashioned soap operas. It's fun to wonder if we'd be like those people --- or lucky enough to be like them. It's comforting to think of life as a little slower, our needs a little easier to satisfy, our relationships just as involved.

       Of course, life didn't move any slower in those days. Life seemed just as fast, just as hectic, just as hard to get a cab at 5 o'clock.

       We Americans are eternally hopeful and romantic, and love drama, no matter what the latest surveys and  economic data say about our expectations. 

       That's good news for us in the fashion marketing business and us in the advertising business. We know that people are constantly ready for the next new thing, even if it's old. We love to recycle our fantasies, slip away a bit from reality, and dream.

        I was one of the "Mad Men" in Chicago, I belonged to the Playboy Club, I flew on Pan Am. Now I'm ready for the next episode. 

       

       

Getting a job was always harder than making the ads.

       One of the cool things about starting in advertising in the days of "Mad Men" is that nobody ever heard of "Mad Men".

       The week I started my first job in Chicago, the agency I was with ran a full-page ad in Advertising Age. The headline read, "It pays to look both ways: Madison Avenue and Michigan Avenue". When you were looking for a job in New York or Chicago, the ad agencies were all on those two streets.

       The first place I applied for a job was a big agency called Needham, Harper and Steers. I sent in a resume and got back a letter from Dick Needham. Boy, they really liked me! When I showed up for the interview, I found out that Dick wasn't the boss, he was the son, and his job was running the training program. He said there were no openings because times were tough. Not even a comment about how they'd keep my resume on file in case something came up.

       The next place down the Avenue was the Leo Burnett Company, the largest ad agency in Chicago. I called and got an appointment with the personnel manager. (Humans were personnel back then, and apparently didn't want relations.) The personnel manager was very dapper, very polite. He spent a full 15 minutes with me, handed me an apple, and walked me to the elevators. (He handed me an apple because every visitor to Burnett gets an apple. When the agency started in the Depression, Leo was told he'd be selling apples on the street in two weeks. Today, they give away tons every year.)

       At the elevators, Mr. Personnel gave me this advice: "Kid, pick another line of work. You're not cut out for advertising." Semi-crushed, I threw away the apple the minute the elevator got to the lobby. But I learned something important. Never go to the personnel department when you're looking for a creative job. Go right to the creative director or his assistant.

       I crossed the street to the London Guarantee Building and went up to ask my Uncle Ed for a job at his ad agency. His secretary, Ms. Frazier, said he was busy. In a few minutes he came out and said, "I can't see you now, Harvey. We do so much of our business by appointment these days."

      I called and met with Ed the next week, and he gave me a job at $400 a week --- if I did okay on the Myers-Briggs personality test.  I probably flunked the test because I heard mumbling about how they better let me stay because I was the boss' nephew. I assume that after going over my test, Mr. Myers would no longer be speaking to Mr. Briggs.

      That's okay, I was hired. On my first day, Bob, the executive art director, asked me to write a headline for his visual of a hand pouring a bottle of Wish-Bone Salad Dressing into an empty crystal carafe. I blurted out "Lie to Your Friends". He loved it, he used it, and I was a keeper.



     

Sex and the single ad.

       Every time I critique a fashion ad that has nothing going for it except a beautiful model in beautiful clothes, someone in my class blurts out, "sex sells!". And I see a lot of nods.

       I ask them what, exactly, does sex sell? Followed by, and who does it sell it to?

       The first thing that comes to my mind are those calendars on the wall in the auto repair shop. They're usually the voluptuous-model-of-the-month with some snappy slogan about shock absorbers or ball joints. Do you think the mechanic orders a brand of ball joints simply on the basis of the model for October? I grant you the calendar went up because of the model, but the car parts?

       A sort of kissing cousin to those calendars are the ads for Guess. They always seem to feature the last girl in the world you'd introduce your boyfriend to. Do you wear Guess? How come? I thought sex sells? Why don't all ads use sex as the main motivator --- do you know something they don't?

       Another question: are Bebe ads as sexy as Guess? Which sells more? Is it in proportion to their sexiness? If sex sells, one might hypothesize that the most sex would sell the most. Why, pornography would empty the whole warehouse!

      There have been studies on the subject of sex in ads, and in general, its effectiveness is relative to the product's appropriateness to sexiness. Perfume is often worn to attract a potential mate, so it's relevant when that is the goal. I'm not sure anyone wants sexy windshield wipers.

      Here's what I believe marketers should think about:

      1. Beautiful people attract attention. No doubt about it; we want to know them and be more like them.

      2. Sexiness attracts attention, and provokes a response. The response may be positive or negative for the advertiser depending on the appropriateness of the sexuality in the ad.

      3, If people want to buy a product to make them more sexy, advertising and promotions can help them pre-experience that. Victoria's Secret does that very well.

      4. We often need a rational basis for buying something in that category. Victoria's Secret tells you  about the design, and how it results in more comfort.

       In short, sex does help sell some people on some things. But it's not the answer to everything, and in most cases it may be the wrong answer.

       Perhaps we should also know who's designing and photographing all these fashion ads. Does their attempt at sexuality appeal to men or women?

       Finally, we should keep in mind that we don't want customers to just have a weekend romance with our products, or just take them to a movie now and then. We want our customers to marry them and live happily ever after.

The bunny I was on thin ice with.

       The headline read "The Bunny Is Back". It was about the new NBC television show, "The Playboy Club." I knew it well.

       When the Playboy Club in Chicago first opened, it cost $25 to join. I joined because they gave you a beautiful bunny-like key that opened the club's front door. I soon showed up with a date I was trying to impress. There at the door when I opened it was a statuesque blonde, in her blue satin ears and a bundle of white yarn pinned on as a tail. There was a name tag pinned on her shiny blue tunic.

       The bunny got all smiley and said "Harvey, Harvey! It's me, Linda." I looked down at her name tag and indeed, it said Linda. But Linda who? She continued squealing, "It's me, Linda Dorfman, from elementary school. We were next to each other for years!"

       Being the shy, retiring type, I was mortified. All I could say was, "I didn't recognize you, Linda. You've...grown." This was the Linda Dorfman who I used to go ice skating and have hot cocoa with in Lincoln Park. I hugged her. My date was not impressed.

       The new TV show is no doubt a response to "Mad Men". Those days, so near and yet so far, seem to be endlessly captivating. We've changed so much in in our style, and certainly in our attitudes about women and relationships. Somehow new generations still see themselves in the story, drinking and typing and having a pretty good time getting by.

       It's interesting to me that while computers, smart phones, iPods and iPads seem to have changed everything, television constantly reminds us how much hasn't.

       We're still interested in the same things that all generations have been.  Relationships, intimacy, emotional episodes, values, and lifestyles. As much as we think we're more evolved, it's a good bet we aren't.

      For all of us in marketing (and in many ways we all are),  it's important not to believe we're so sophisticated that we out-fox ourselves into thinking we're more advanced, more enlightened. We're probably not. We're the same as everybody, including our customers.

     Hugh Hefner knows that, which is why his magazine and his vision of the good life still have appeal. As for me, I'd simply like to hug Linda Dorfsman one more time.

   

How come you can see it but Sears can't?

        During the last quarter, Sears closed 29 stores and said it saved $48 million. Sales are weak at Sears, and customer traffic is declining. Why can't they stop the bleeding?

        Sears said its revenues are down primarily because of decreases in electronics. C.E.O. Lou D'Ambrosio says they've got great plans for the future, though, with "many innovative" ideas in the appliance area and, of course, a new apparel line from the Kardashian sisters. C'mon, Sears! Open your eyes and smell the coffee!

       Any college student can tell you what's wrong with Sears in a 10-minute walk through any department. The experience isn't very pleasant. The stores just feel cold, hard, and certainly devoid of any sense of theater. Shopping here may save you a few bucks, but even that's no fun. A young person would be hard-pressed to say "This place is for me!"

       The thing I like about Sears is that there's plenty of space in their parking lot. The cars are all huddled by the other stores. On a wet day I just walk through Sears to get to where I really want to go. Good thing I'm not allergic to linoleum.

       In a memo, Mr. D'Ambrosio wrote, "In any journey, there are always highs and lows, and the critics and skeptics will always say what they want to say."

       Maybe Mr. D'Ambrosio should take a journey to a Target store. The contrast is spellbinding. Target was the brainchild of department store people at Dayton-Hudson-Marshall Field's. They know the importance of the experience. The cheerful stores, well-designed merchandise, a surprise at every turn, the contemporary displays, the efficient check-out and customer service departments, the charity and community relationships.

       Target makes Sears look like a museum exhibit of "Yesterday's Department Store". Please don't touch the exhibits. Sears owns Kmart as well, and those stores have their own problems. Certainly no real competition to Walmart, even with their Martha Stewart stuff.

       Sears, of course, has long been famous for their Kenmore appliances, Craftsman tools, Diehard batteries, and their tire and auto centers. When I was in Chicago, I was creative director on a large chunk of the Sears account, but how often would you go to a department store to buy a hammer? Sears is doing okay online, which is probably an extension of the popularity of the old Sears, Roebuck catalog in rural areas.

       Retail isn't what it used to be. Except at Sears.

     

When the old guard let its guard down.

       In the "Mad Men" days of advertising, there was a silent war going on. Well, not really silent. It was more of a grumbling war.

       The old guard, mostly men toughened by in-fighting, politicking, and long lunches, went by the "rules" of advertising: headlines that name the product and the benefit; copy that explains the features and gives the "reason why"; and a tagline, or slogan, that gives the conclusion you want consumers to reach. According to the old guard, art directors were there to "lay out" the ad, making it attractive.

       That's when I came in, along with other upstarts who read the New Yorker to learn how to write, saw the new kind of ads coming out of the Big Apple, and wanted to join in and do better.

       I remember when my friend Marv was brought into the agency from a greeting card factory. The creative director said, "Fred has been here for years. He's got a big office and I'm putting you in with him for help."  Four months later, Marv went in to talk to the creative director. "Remember four months ago you put me into Fred's office for help? Well, I've given him all the help I can." Marv got his own office, I got promoted, and we were on our way.

       It was just in time. I was tired of account executives telling creative people, "There are no dull products, just dull writers". Tired of being told by art directors, "Just leave it on the corner of my drawing board and I'll do something with it later."

       When I was first made a copy supervisor, the art supervisor was an older guy named Toby. He was a lot of fun, and always had an agency story to disarm my ambition and high spirits. He had been in World War II, and then lived in his car while attending Art Center in Los Angeles on the G.I. Bill. He never wanted to just sit down together with a writer and make an ad --- a new way of working that was making its way west from the Creative Revolution in New York. Every time I'd say, "Toby, we've got a new assignment", he'd simply reach into a pile on his desk and say something like, " I want to use this great illustration of a chicken! Write a headline for it."

       We had only one woman art director in the department in those days. She was always busy on projects that called for the woman's touch. Whatever that meant.  Everyone wanted to work with Barbara, so suddenly every project needed the woman's touch.

        The old guard slowly crumbled. Their lunch hours started to get longer and longer. The list of requirements for creative assignments got shorter and shorter. They started saying things like "do whatever you think", and then retired to talk about the good old days.

        Then again, isn't that what I'm talking about?

     

Can brands tweet too much?

        The other day a student told me she thought some advertisers are overdoing it with social media. Every morning at 5:30, I know how she feels.

        When I open my computer, I face 75 to 110 messages. That's before the water boils. I'm  over-Facebooked daily, and people in online groups are pretending to start discussions when they're really trying to recruit or place people for jobs.  Do they really think this is a way to win friends and influence people --- by tweeting hard-sell messages?

        My friend Dave, who runs a branding company, tweets every day. He has over 1,200 followers. Instead of trying to sell them in 140 characters, Dave tries to help them, and give them things to think about. One day it might be about a promotion opportunity that car dealers are missing out on, and the next day, a new idea a home builder in Denver is trying out. Or a new PR tactic for medical centers. Dave appears to operate on a principle that's rather simple: if you love someone enough, there's a good chance they'll love you back.

        The kinds of tweets and postings and messages we can do without are the other kind. The all-about-me kind. "I just bought a swim suit --- they were half off." There's nothing for me in there.  Now, as much as I like to see swimsuits half off, why do I want to know this? Do they have the kind I like? Where is this sale? Is that my kind of store?

        Print ads and TV commercials fail for the same reason. There's nothing in them for the viewer. Leo Burnett, the head of his own huge ad agency in Chicago, once defined a good ad as one that's easier to read than turn the page. I believe that's true. By easier to read, Leo meant an ad so interesting and relevant to you that you just had to read it. No decision --- you just read it.

        Whenever I find myself captivated into reading an ad, I try to figure out why. An intriguing photo, a shocking statement, an unexpected promise, a striking question, a great offer? Often it's all of the above.

        We go to social media (or any other media) to get something out of them. When we don't, we have a right to be upset and complain. Or simply not pay attention. Call it self interest, call it self respect.

        If all someone wants to do is bombard you with his favorite subject, him, please realize he won't get a positive response from you, like Dave would.

        As I always tell my clients, you pay the same amount for a bad ad as you do for a good one.