Murphy's Marketing Morals Part 9

29th September 2008

Absence does apparently.

Make the heart grow fonder, I mean.

Look, I apologise.

There I’ve said it.

I’ve been neglecting you of late.

I realise it’s hard for you. One minute incisive marketing thought and cutting wit at the touch of a mouse. And then. Silence.

The cat’s got him.

The mouse, cat, analogy puts me in mind of my rodent problem. My cleaner, Straight Talking Gill thinks I've got a rat in my gallery. Not that I'm a lousy housewife or anything! Look. I like spiders, okay.

But truth be told the kids’ Christmas stockings are still up there. In the gallery I mean. And okay there may be a half-opened selection box or twelve among the discarded wrapping paper.
And M'Lord.....I present the evidence. A giant red Chupa Chup lolly.
Gnawed. All round the stick end. Through the paper and everything.
But I'm onto it. Satan cat is now a Freeman, er cat, of Gallery City.
And the mouse-rat thing’s days are numbered. Trust me.

Anyway. Back to the point.
I was apologising for leaving you advice less. For two whole weeks.

I'm truly sorry blog fans.

You’ve missed me, I know.

Thousands of you ....look I've always been a popular girl. Quiet at the back! Not that sort of popular.

Okay, okay, truthfully....there were actually dozens of people who contacted me in distress.....

Alright..... seventeen of you missed my acerbic wit.....my Mum, my Aunty Nora, both my children, my ex-husband. Sorry, that one’s wrong, he can't read. The Lovely Gerry. Okay, so I make him read it, but it still
counts...., and various long-suffering friends and a few hangers on, have all emailed to find out why I’ve not blogged recently.

Truth is, I’ve been too depressed by Freaky Friday, disastrous Thursday and not much better Monday to
Wednesday and, as a consequence, I’ve missed a couple of weeks. The urge to share just didn't take me.

It’s been a life-changing experience for me all this crunching credit.
At least, so far as money is concerned. Or spending it anyway.

Really. In fact, I’ve decided I’m coming out of funds. I'm clipping my hedges and my oeics have squeaked their last.

No, really.

Money-wise, I'm now in shoe boxes. Under the bed.
It’s not done much for my interior design regime truth be told, but at least my money is safe. Dusty. But safe. See. I told you I like spiders.


Until the children work out where the cash is of course, at which point I’ll be boracic.

But since the fruits of my previous über consumerism still need occasional maintenance, I still have to visit retail emporiums. In this case, a posh watch from the poshest shop in London.

So there I was in the Fine Jewellery and Luxury Watch Room in Harrods last week. Ooh, get me!

And I was amazed. At just how much cash was being flashed. Well, black Amex cards anyway. And there was a cacophony of Russian being spoken.
One bloke even had a bodyguard to hold his mobile phone. Too heavy for an oligarch to manage obviously.

So, the marketing moral? People are still spending if the brand suits their lifestyle, so stick to what you know. Well it’s horses for courses.
Bit of an animal theme going on today isn't there?! What I mean is that when times are hard only us mortals tighten our belts. Topshop, Sainsbury’s and M&S beware. But posh shops are still raking it in. Because really rich bods earn more interest on their gazillions a year
than we could hope to earn in a lifetime. They've still got plenty of money. Ergo they still shop.

So fear not the credit crunch if you are a luxury brand, I say. In fact, rejoice in the fact that Joe Public isn't clogging up your posh aisles with his cheap coat from Uniqlo. And lowering the tone with shoes that aren't quite Paul Smith. Or ruining the über-rich ambience with a frankly common demeanour!

So Selfridges, Liberty, et al keep up the good work and fill your coffers with all the wonga from rich aristocrats from the UK and exotic far-flung shores.
For me? It’s still the highlight of my week to visit Harrods and wander about the hallowed halls dreaming of bags and frocks and shoes and jewellery and cake. Even if I can only now afford the cake.

Blog biog: Nicola Murphy. 44. Ravishingly beautiful (short sighted). Very clever – MBA/PHD in marketing (likes the sound of own voice)). Founding partner in River.

Posted by River, 29th September 2008

Murphy's Martketing Morals - Part 8

12th September 2008

Oh my bloody God.

Stuart Rose. Stuart Rose. So good they named it. Sorry him. Twice.

Ahem. Stuie Rose. As I like to call him, now we’re acquainted, is after my salient marketing advice.

Okay, get up off the floor...where's your dignity. Rolling about on the ground with your mouth hanging open is not a good look. Unless you’re a dog.

It’s simply not a laughing matter. This is a serious gig for me okay?
It proves I’ve arrived.

One of the UK’s top retailers is looking to moi for thought-provoking titbits of marketing knowledge. Oo er get me, eh?

And you lot on the world wide web get my little gems for free.

No, not those biscuit sweets with icing sugar tops...they're iced gems...no, no, my thought gems...you get to read my blogs. For free.

So back to Stuie. To be accurate, I don't know for a fact that the twelve minutes an M&S person spent on the new River website was actually him okay. This tracking lark is fab.

But, really. Who else could it be?

He is the only one who doesn't actually have anything to do all day, right? The only person at M&S without portfolio ie with minutes enough spare, to read my blog.

Look my Grandma Rhoda had the sight. So I know it was him.

You’re sceptical. I can feel it.

But there's other evidence okay?
And after all, actions speak louder than words.

You’ll remember that in an earlier blog (whadaya mean you don't read them all?), I berated Stuie for his food porn ads (18th August). Old Dervla (and by the way what kind of a name is that?) Kirwan getting all breathy over the spuds.

Well. It seems note has been taken, and Dervla is out.
And the new voice of M&S Food is...um...David Jason. Ta da!

Now I admit it’s a leftfield choice...more field in Thamesmead than field in Richmond, admittedly...than I would have perhaps advocated.
Okay. I think it’s an interesting. Slightly off the wall. (Agency speak for bloody awful. What were you thinking?) choice. Because really. What does it say about the brand?

As an M&S customer I'm confused. How does David Jason in tweed marry up with supermodels Erin O’Connor and Lily Cole?

Traditional food values meet trendy fashion basics? Hmm. Mismatch.

Now don't get me wrong I loved Only Fools and Horses. I only caught the reruns obviously. Being so young. Ahem. And I love Frost. Don't you just adore a man in a hat? Er no...


And that's my problem actually. He’s lovable Old David isn't he? But he's not exactly aspirational. Or even, well, modern, is he? So I'm afraid I don't get it.

What was the ad agency thinking?

In Frost he plays a sad single who consumes microwave meals. Hardly M&S territory.

Are they going for the everyman stance perhaps?

Or the old lady vote?
Oooh I like that David Jason me...

See, my mum loves him. Him and Parky. And Bruce Forsyth. But she's seventy-nine. I rest my case.

So thank you Stuart for heeding my advice on your ads. I'm beyond flattered. Really I am.

But please, next time, can you run the choice of replacement past me before you sign them? Not my mum.

Blog biog: Nicola Murphy. 44. Ravishingly beautiful (short sighted). Very clever – MBA/PHD in marketing (likes the sound of own voice)). Founding partner in River.

Posted by River, 12th September 2008

Of VPs, VPLs...and veracity in magazines

11th September 2008

Hello…

lemonhead here…well for the moment that is...my hair I mean. Keep up. As I explained in my last blog, I had the chop. Titian waist-length to blonde crop. I was thinking Agyness Deyn. Apparently in reality the effect is more cadaverous than even the 5ft 11in, size 8, catwalk bombshell.

Let me explain.

There I was panting down Bond Street in my trainers and Ghost black dress. Not a look I’d recommend but practical when you are walking the five miles from home to the office. No the credit crunch has not severed my relationship with the London black cab community...just wanted some exercise and the opportunity to commune with my good friend (she who must be obeyed because she was put on this earth to be so….Nicola Murphy, River’s chief exec of course.) She who should be on the ticket. US presidential that is….ballsy woman, very successful business person, great mother, hunter, new business for River that is, no bear skins on her sofa yet though, and fellow director.

Anyway back to Bond Street – yes please. There I was trying to look calm and cool having hacked apace across Hyde Park and Park Lane discussing such strategic matters as, is there life after 40...clearly neither of us can tell you that yet, is navy the new black, obviously if you’re Alexander McQueen A/W08, will the so-called recession affect our brilliant business, should we admire Sarah Palin, John McCain’s new VP and hockey-Mum or revile her (likes big guns and some argue has painfully put her pregnant 17-year-old daughter in the spotlight but, on the other hand, is impressively anti-establishment and a warm family person) when I was accosted by a mild-looking female pedestrian. She stopped me in my tracks as she put her arm on mine. “My God!” she exclaimed…you’re stunningly beautiful and obviously highly successful and intelligent…No. “My God!”…don’t you look just like…Audrey Hepburn post a bleach…..No. “My God!” surely you’re related to... Agyness Deyn…your hair and youthful complexion…No. “My God, don’t you look exactly like… Paula Yates.” Yes. I did say cadaverous did I not. Sadly, because I really liked Paula Yates, it’s a reference that is often made. Sadly, because she’s dead and what a waste of such an energetic and vibrant life. In my embarrassment I flushed and muttered indecipherably. Only later did I think of various witty responses that I should have made: “Yes, same habits but sadly not the same profile.” Boobs I’m referring to. I have none. “Yes, my good friend here has just dusted the earth off her spade. No that’s not mascara under her eyes…just a spattering of grave mud.” “**** *** *** ***** Take your hand off my arm and don’t touch me, I’m severely autistic and suffer from Tourette’s syndrome.”

But I’m not a quick thinker when it comes to the spoken word. Watching the Republican National Convention made me think how verbally dextrous politicians are. Maybe it’s years of self-editing. Maybe the bite of huge ambition makes word-hypocrisy worthwhile. There were a series of eminent republicans hailing Sarah Palin as a great co-runner. They themselves having been rejected because being men they could not pull the disaffected Hillary devotees. They could have been nuns in the confessional...not a flicker of disingenuity, dishonesty or downright lying. Here was the woman who may be a future president of the United States (McCain has had health problems after all) and rather than shouting, It should have been me, there they were prostrate, begging her to step on them on their way up.

Her suitability was being questioned by the media. Call herself a good mother. How could she commit herself to the presidential election fray and neglect her young family and maternal duties. Why was her 17-year-old pregnant daughter Bristol having the baby and getting married...surely only because Sarah is Pro Life. Obviously she couldn't be a credible VP candidate. Only six months ago she asked what was a VP? VP not VPL...And so it went on. I'm not a republican but I am secretly impressed. I like powerful women and I don't think abortion is a feminist issue. I admire anyone who can stand in front of a convention and the world and talk credibly and powerfully and be true to themselves. That's why I like magazines.

They are not about on-the-spot verbosity. The editorial word is considered and crafted. Customer magazine or newsstand the words are true to themself because every successful magazine has its own very particular tone of voice and every magazine has its very own editorial mission. I recently heard some eminent, in his lunchtime that is, newspaper travel writer inveighing against British Airways inflight magazine, High Life. BA were on air explaining why they rated their magazine. It researched very well with customers, communicated various BA messages properly and was appreciated as a damn good read. What tosh, said the very important newspaper travel writer. Everyone knows inflight magazines are a load of marketing rubbish. They're all about the carrier and corporate nonsense and you only read them because you're bored out of your seat and you've got multiple joint ache, even in your ear lobes. Not true said the BA exec. Some of the country’s most eminent journalists write in them, your colleagues, mate, and our customers are actually quite discerning and intelligent people who only do things they want to do, particularly when they fly and have some free and valuable time on their hands. Oh no, intoned the very, very important travel writer, never forget that the only true journalism, by definition, is the articles that someone somewhere wants to prevent being published. Methinks this very very important travel writer has not looked around him and seen that here in the 21st century communication and words take many forms.

Good writing is true because it engages the reader and immerses them in a carefully crafted journey. It doesn't have to be two thousand erudite and impenetrable words on the ins and outs of conspiracy theory and the latest political wheelings and dealings. That of course has its place. Consumers, our beloved magazine readers, are not stupid. They understand the nature of verbal communication whether it be a TV ad, a web blog, a Wikipedia entry...or a beautifully written article in a magazine. If they like it they read it, and engage emotionally and are delighted. If they think it’s tosh they don't. Fair deal I say.

Blog biog: Jane Wynn. Age: none of your business. Ravishingly intelligent (self-deluded). Very talented - axiomatic as is Editorial director River.

Posted by River, 11th September 2008

Angelica's back...

10th September 2008

...and trying to lose weight - visit her blog here 

Posted by River, 10th September 2008

Night train to Hydra

2nd September 2008

So there I was on one of the idyllic Greek islands. Hydra for your information. South Saronic Gulf. Lots of Venetian influence. Tiny cobbled alleyways. Clattering donkeys. Blue-shuttered white houses. Honestly, it’s gorgeous. At night, strings of lights hang between café awnings in the small port and you get bad attacks of boat envy as squillion-euro motoryachts come into berth. Uniformed crew and chrome polished in places the sun don’t shine.

Couldn’t live like that I tell myself. Husband just pointed out it’s slave labour. All that elbow grease and humble pie, paid for in nada wages. Husband is walking up and down the quay having a maybe-in-my-next-incarnation-I-can-come-back-as-a-Greek-oil-magnate moment. He’s got the moobs and the tan, though don’t tell him I told you. And he’s quite liking the Missoni-clad, bejewelled, be-boobed, canary blonde, champagne glass in hand, up on the poop deck. I tell him it’s bad for your skin, all that sun and sea air. Puts years on you. So even if you can be tendered off the yacht to shop til you drop you won’t look good, no matter what designer label you’ve got inside your very tight jeans. One, you’ve got a Greek bottom. Two, you’ve got crocodile skin, on your face not just your handbag. Three, you’re married to the man paying slave labour wages to the crew and your bad conscience will show on your face, eventually, believe me. Karmic justice….you can’t be stinking mean and filthy beautiful.

What am I doing? If I’m not deflecting yacht-envy, I’m lost in thoughts about some boho (yes, I did say boho not bobo) Greek island existence. I find myself staring at white linen, mid-calf, yes, yes mid-calf, dresses that probably started existence as bedsheets. I can see myself flip-flopping along the quayside, earrings jingle-jangling and, the worst is to come, ankle bracelet aquiver. Could even finish it off with a tongue piercing. Donkey ride the 450 steps up the mountain to the authentic – read ropey electrics – white windmill and voila, or daxi as we say in Greek, I fit like a native. Sadly, I can’t afford the yacht, didn’t need to tell you that really, even sadder still not even the donkey ride. State of the euro. Donkey ride that is. Miserable exchange rate or not I can’t even begin to afford the motoryacht... and I’m not stinking mean or filthy beautiful either. Though mass plastic surgery and a personality change could help here. Until then I’m stuck with me. Or Lemonhead as my children now refer to me. Because here’s another fantasy that’s reared its obsessive little head. Used to have long, Titian red hair. Four years of tortuous growing. Gone on a whim. Short blonde crop. My hairdresser said Aries was cusping Scorpio so I had no choice. The desire to make a life change and become Agyness Deyn was just too overwhelming. Well, alright her mother then. Hull, the town of my growing-up, not age, is sadly all Agyness and I have in common. Anyway, back to life aspirations.

Here dear reader is where magazines finally come into it. Indeed into their own. After all, I’m editorial director of River so I have to justify my existence don’t I? As Pascal Mercier writes (page 42 Night Train to Lisbon, the phenomenal international bestselling novel. No, you’re not going to get a book review though it is a bloody good existential read): “Given that we can live only a small part of what there is in us, what happens with the rest?”

Had I been able to purchase a copy of Greek Island Idyll (doesn’t exist but should), I could have whiled away my holiday reading about many fantasy lives in Greece rather than lusting after shapeless old bedsheets and body piercings. My husband could have indulged in yacht-porn – mine-is-bigger-than-yours images of big boats I mean, of course. Had I been able to buy the latest issue of Vogue on my Greek idyll, I could have looked at Agy on the catwalk and imagined being her without actually having to have the chop. Similarly, take River’s splendid Harrods magazine. I could have poured over the gorgeous August issue and dreamed of strutting my stuff in Naeem Khan's stunning brocade evening dress aloft the Harrod’s rooftop. In my dreams! In my dreams indeed, for that dear reader is the power and the point of magazines. They’re our dreams, our fantasy lives, they allow us to indulge all our schizophrenic selves. Some say they are a luxury, credit crunch nipping. I say they’re a necessity. They keep us entertained and ultimately sane.

Blog biog: Jane Wynn. Age: none of your business. Ravishingly intelligent (self-deluded). Very talented - axiomatic as is Editorial director River.

Posted by River, 2nd September 2008

Murphy's Marketing Morals - Part 7

1st September 2008

So there we were watching football.

Snore. Yes, I know. You wouldn't have thought I'd be a football aficionado would you? Or someone’s football bitch.

Well, I'm neither. But this particular viewing experience beats the Sports Bar in Haymarket, as we are in a bar all right. But. In a bar. In Italy. Balmy evening. The lovely Gerry is in his element but he knows I'm bored stiff and it’s only five minutes in....so that’s big brownie points for me. Much guilt for him. And it’s worth a new handbag at the very least. And I've got my eye on the new Jimmy Choo. That Tamara Mellon might go through men like a dose of salts but she makes a lovely bag.

If you know what I mean.

So this football lark.

Fiorentina versus Juventus. Serie A. Opening game of the season.

No, I don't like football as a rule. I'm more of a Formula One type, me. Better entertainment. Less visible sweat. Enough said.
But these football guys have got much. Much. Better thighs. And normal sized necks. So it’s deathly but a few glasses of wine and a pizza and I'm persuadable. Not forgetting old Tamara and my new bag obviously.

If the right team wins I’ll get the shoes, too.

Anyway, to the marketing point of the story. For there surely is one.

Suddenly (without sounding all Frederick Forsyth) in the middle of a play, natch, up pops a bottle of Becks. On the pitch. Next to the player who's got the ball. Eh??

What's that all about? It’ll be in full kit and playing next.

This is Sky Sport, Italy. The only other ads are on the advertising hoarding on the perimeter of the pitch. And frankly they look a bit amateur.
And yet there's a bottle of beer smack, bang, in the midst of the action.

And next an ad for Donna Loka Scarpe e Borse.....Shoes and Bags if you're not up on the lingo. Eh? I get the link with beer. Drink beer, watch football, shout at the telly. But shoes and bags. Tenuous to say the least.

Now Italy’s not what you'd call sophisticated in marketing terms, let's face it. Earlier, we were assailed by a Fiat 500, old shape with a tannoy on top. And the bloke shouting into it extolling the virtues of kitchen
gas! The very thing for heating food, apparently. Well, I never. Who'd have thought it.

But still. There are marketing standards and footballing beer bottles do not meet them.

And yet how does that even happen at all here? The marketing industry in Italy is very regulated. Stringently so. Except where semi-clad women
are concerned. Boobs ok. Financial services not.

No really.

For example, as a lawyer or a similar service provider you can't advertise in or on public media. You have to rely on reputation. Word of mouth. Or a tiny little plaque outside your residence. So your only custom is from the eagle eyed.
But get your boobs out for anything from the obvious. Calendars and cars. To the frankly odd. Dog food and bleach. And that's ok. Only in a Catholic country, eh? I'm fully paid up, so I can say that.

Equally, there is little or no dm here. Especially in the South. Unless you are the Church. Apparently, even God needs a bit of a push now and again.

But even God can't get a Catholic lawyer, or any other denomination, a look in on Sky Sports but Becks beer can not only advertise but play, too! Extraordinary, eh?

And not really in the spirit of the beautiful game is it, let's face it?
Players get roundly harried if they go clubbing before a game. And fall pissed out of Chinawhites. Page three lovely on each arm. Actually, maybe that's where the shoes and bags come in, come to think of it. The
page three lovelies. When clothed and fully accessorised obviously.

But does it make Becks beer more synonymous with football? Does it show that Becks respects football? And those who play it? And importantly their fans? The potential punters for the very beer they are flogging.
Popping up at a crucial moment and interrupting viewing pleasure?

Hmm. No.

And does it even work? Do punters leap up to buy a bottle when they see it flashed across a crucial four four two?

I think not. Not one bloke got up while I was watching.

I'm not being sexist, I'm the only girl here. Well me and Tamara.

So, the marketing moral.

Choose your medium and your placement within it with care.

I.e. Not during the actual game on the pitch. When I'm trying to watch the thighs. Sorry. The play. But in the ad breaks. Or on the hoardings. Or....long shot this.......on the shirts. Otherwise your sponsorship
smacks a bit more like disrespect. Like you are mocking the game. More like contempt for the very serious job the players are trying to do. Get the small white ball in the other side’s big net thingy.

So Mr Becks. Put your bottle on the shirts next time. Or is that a Euro too far?

Posted by River, 1st September 2008

Let battle commence

26th August 2008

If you haven’t already, go and check out www.mygazines.com, one of hottest subjects in publishing at the moment. At first glance, you’ll be shocked by the blatant copyright infringements but look a bit closer at the site and maybe things aren’t so black and white.

The basic premise is that users upload scanned versions of print magazines for anyone to view. You’ll see the latest issues of anything from FHM to The Economist and all for ‘free’ and it’s understandably sending print publishers potty with rage. Publishers across the world, Time Warner to EMAP have all stated their intentions to get the site closed immediately and teams of lawyers are readying themselves for battle as we speak.

Normally, it’s a fairly straightforward process to get something like this shut down, however Mygazines is registered in the Caribbean island of Anguilla and hosted in Sweden, by the notorious PRQ. The Stockholm-based PRQ is owned by the founders of BitTorrent tracker site Pirate Bay and is known for hosting other such websites. P2P (Peer to Peer) networks like Bit Torrent have been around for ages, their users swapping copyrighted music and movies willy nilly. The movie and music industry hasn’t had much joy in shutting down P2P networks so it's pretty doubtful that anyone’s gonna shut down Mygazines anytime soon.

If this was 1997, Mygazines would probably be shaking in their boots right now, but it isn’t, and if our short history of the web tells us anything, these publishers are simply wasting their time. Even if they do manage to shut this one down, either Mygazines will relaunch under a different name or a plethora of other sites in this vein will launch. The publishers are in fact causing the problem by publicly stating their intentions to shut the site and getting Mygazines all this publicity.

It's all a bit hypocritical anyway...Publishers are perfectly happy to talk to advertisers about pass-along readership when the format is print -”oh yes our research shows that our magazine is read by 4 people giving us a readership of blah blah blah” - yet here’s a website proving pass along claims and they want to shut it down. Uh?

Rather than destroying Mygazines, perhaps they should be actively working with them. Gaining an understanding of the benefits of content distribution via a social network will be invaluable knowledge in years to come.

So get your ringside seat and watch this space, because a battle is about to commence that could well define the future of online content. I for one, can’t wait!

Blog Biog : Ed Burgass, Head of Digital. Born to fish, forced to work. 

 

Posted by River, 26th August 2008

Retail therapy???

26th August 2008

So there we were. Milan airport. Connecting flights. A four hour wait between flights...one from Southern Italy...the next to London.

That's not so bad right? A chance for some retail therapy.

Gucci, Prada, Louis Vuitton, a splash of duty free.

A nice Italian lunch with a couple of glasses of champagne. That's me, not the kids. They prefer the hard stuff.

Read a few magazines. Relax a little.

Well that was the plan.

Except we are at Milan Linate. Not the proper one. Malpensa.
At Milan Malpensa they've got real shops. Acres of them. Even their inferior shops are a million times better than the shops here. Well what passes for shops here.

Think I'm exaggerating? Well if you came here to buy a capsule wardrobe you'd be stuffed. No there isn't an excess of fur and feathers for the taxidermy minded! I'm talking women’s fashion.

Mens. Kids(ish). But no women’s. What's that all about? You can make like Elle Macpherson and clothe your bod in sexy underwear. Well underwear anyway. But that's it. No outerwear. Good job its a hundred degrees outside.

And no handbag shops. Not one. How you can call yourself an airport without designer bags is beyond me. Although I did see a few designer old bags to be fair.

There is a Tie Rack though. See. Told you it was bad.

And to illustrate the point, the sunglasses concession should be in a suitcase on a beach in Jamaica being hawked by the Looky Looky Man. No really.

It’s that bad.

But I know you're thinking that if all else fails the duty free shop never disappoints the world over though does it? They always have one of those with enough booze, chocolate and tobacco in it to sink a battleship. Er no. Not at Linate they don't. It’s being reconstructed. Bit like the designer old bags.

So if retail therapy is off the agenda it will have to be a food experience to while away the hours. The airport map shows a couple of snack bars and a Harrys Bar Restaurant. Now I've been to a few Harrys Bars in my time, the world over, and I’ve had some good times. Hell, I even remember a few of them. So off we set, hopefully, through the airport. Which in itself makes Heathrow Terminal two look plush by the way. And arrived.

Harrys Bar, Linate Airport.

Oh how we laughed. Harry was nowhere in sight. Hiding. It was the shame. It does that to some people.

Words cannot describe. Wilting plants. Brown decor. A bit like Pizza Hut before the makeover. Brown trousers on the waiting staff and brown checked shirts. Remember those? I do. I was one of them paying off my student loan whilst at uni. You got a free pizza every ten hour shift. And a drink. Brilliant corporate generosity. But you had to hide while drinking it. Customers don't like to think that waiting staff have needs. Like basic hydration.

Anyway Pizza Hut pah!. I got the sack. But that's another story.

So back to Harrys. Tableclothes. Tick. Beige. Cross. There was also a printed menu. Tick. Things were looking up. The kids were starving so we just ordered. I didn't look at the prices. That bit was the entertainment.

Two pastas. Microwaved. Only in Italy eh? The home of pasta.
My daughter Ali liked what wasn't stuck to the plate.
A chicken breast and potatoes for Archie who only operates in basic food groups. But if it really was a breast it was from an anorexic chicken. And it was covered in what Archie termed....ugh what's that white stuff? Two fruit salads. Don't you adore grapes with pips? Two Sprites and a still water.

So now for the fun bit. As if eating it wasn't penance enough. Go on. I’ll spoof you for the bill. How much?

Forty seven Euros and change. The Sprite was the biggest laugh. Five Euros forty a bottle.

So good job there weren't any decent shops. We had no money left to spend anyway.

So the moral of this story. Check your destination. Exactly. Milan Airport sounds like wall to wall Armani with Simonata thrown in for the cheeky end of the scale i.e. Malpensa. Linate on the other hand is the Arctic of shopping. It’s the Priory for shopoholics everywhere.

Our only fix was a mobile phone charm. No really.
And I can buy designer togs on The Great Wall of China so I consider myself somewhat of an authority on shopping.

A word of advice then. Avoid. At all costs. Pardon the pun.
Go to the right Milan Airport and only that one. If you have to connect via Linate cancel your trip. It’s not worth it.
Stay home and shop on net a porter. The only thing they don't sell is the phone charm.

But I think that's a bit of a blessing.

Posted by River, 26th August 2008

Desire

20th August 2008

I love handbags and I celebrate the wonderful and sometimes weird relationship women have with them. What is the fatal attraction of a handbag?! Is it the style, colour, the oozing sex appeal or the price!

I clearly remember my growing love affair with handbags. My first handbag, aged 6, tan, Little Miss Sunshine on the front, practical over the shoulder handle, I loved it, really loved it! Why didn’t I keep it?!

This was the start of what was going to be a beautiful relationship with bags and a clear example of desire.

Shopping and logical thought are often worlds apart. Why do we buy what we do? It is often about pure desire, rationalised either before or after purchase i.e. desire created through marketing, advertising and media as a whole.

For example, the ultimate aim of Harrods Magazine is to create desire, through information and presenation. Ultimately, we intend that such desire will result in purchase.

As such, Harrods Magazine is positively impacting on customer behaviour, with an enormous 67% of readers making a purchase as a direct result of reading the magazine. Even Jane Wynn (editorial director) went running out of the River office to get her hands on the Burberry ‘Shackle’ exclusive (only to find it had sold out!) Fundamentally, Harrods is the most famous store in the world, stocking the finest products and worldwide exclusive. The magazine reflects this sparkling personality by successfully creating the necessary desire at the necessaary levels.

If you ask me, there is nothing quite like a trip through one of the Rooms of Luxury. Yes...two rooms packed with bags!

Blog biog: Beth Hodder, 31, Account Director (with special thanks to the man that purchases 95% of her handbags!)

Posted by River, 20th August 2008

Murphy's Marketing Morals - Part 6

20th August 2008

So there I was. Lost.

And not in France. Although there is a song in that.

Nope. Italy. Italia. Roma. Spaghetti. Carbonara (seriously it is a place not just a food experience...I know, I passed it three times) as I looked for that familiar blue and yellow sign.

I was in search of Europe’s biggest, newest, Ikea. I'd been there before. To the store I mean. And even to this particular one, too. Southern Italy. Puglia. Red hot. Little car. What do you mean it’s an extra thirty euros for air con. Stuff that. Oh how we laughed!
Hindsight is a wonderful thing.

How hard could it be? Follow the motorway. See the big blue tower. Leave the motorway. Follow the signs to the store. Croydon with sun thrown in. Except it wasn't.

I was experiencing my own personal Groundhog Day.

I was driving from Locorotondo to Bari. Forty-five minutes tops. Except it took three hours.

I could see the store from the motorway, like a desert oasis beckoning a thirsty Bedouin. But could I get to it? Could I heck as like.

It shimmered like a desirable flat-packed wardrobe. Just out of reach. And three hours later I still hadn't located all the screws.

It became my own personal Holy Grail. It of the cheap tea towel and budget chair. I could smell it. Meatballs and lingonberry juice. But I just couldn't get there.

That's because the Italians just don't do signs.

Or at least they do. But they are all pointing the wrong way. Or they peter out. Or they disappear to fox you. Or I'm stupid. Or, more likely, I need a TomTom that doesn't take a fancy to every lay-by and dead end. But that’s another story. And a few choice expletives later. My Italian swearwords are coming on a treat.

So eventually. Not one to give up, me. I found it.

And to round off a joyless driving experience it was right next door to McDonald’s. Of course there had been hundreds of golden arches so I could have saved hours of fruitless and frustrating searching had I only known it was right next door.

But none of the signs said that. Oh no. Why make it easy for your customers to locate your stores, eh? It’s character building to get thoroughly naffed off in pursuit of a few cushions and a whistling kettle.

So I arrived dear reader. And was instantly soothed by the airconned warehouse echoing off into the middle distance.

After two hours. One of them queuing. More checkouts and till staff would be good. Or isn't that very Swedish Mr Kamprad? I ventured back out into the sunshine proud owner of more lamps, novelty ice-cream scoops and tealight holders than I know what to do with. But it’s so cheap! It’s just your brain doesn't register that you don't actually need the stuff. You are bewitched by the price.

And that's when it happened. As if my day hadn't been taxing enough already. I nearly got run over in the Ikea car park. Not a very noble end as ends go. I certainly hadn't envisaged meeting my maker dragging a crateload of cheap crockery.

There I was. Pushing my overloaded trolley, blue bags swinging off all available nooks and crannies.......when some daft Italian bloke, shouting away on his mobile and reversing swiftly out of his parking space, hit my trolley and knocked it, and very nearly me, flying.

Ok I wasn't injured exactly, but it was a close call. To be fair, I hadn't spotted him either. I couldn't see over the top of my fake sheepskin carpet. But still.

The humiliation. Surrounded by broken glass and china and a tangle of twisted metal that had once been a trolley.

And then my day changed beyond recognition. I had a positive customer experience. Out of the bowels of the store rushed two orange polo shirts.....why not blue or yellow……? Anyway. And they collected up all my broken bits like helpful Oompa-Loompas from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.....and replaced them all free of charge. They collected them while I sat at customer services with a cinnamon roll and a glass of lingonberry. Good for shock apparently. And then loaded them into my little red oven and waved me off.

Brilliant. They even berated the ponytailed Italian on my behalf.

Now that's what I call customer service.

So if they can just sort out the signs so customers can actually find the store. And open up more tills so you can actually pay for what you've bought. And impose a ban on poor drivers.

Well it would be a damn near perfect retail experience.

Viva Ikea! Or should that be Italia!

Posted by River, 20th August 2008

Murphy's Marketing Morals - Part 5

18th August 2008

So there we were talking about tomatoes.

No I've not turned into Diarmuid Gavin or Alan Titchmarsh. And anyway, I'm taller. No it was tomatoes in context. Got you wondering now haven't I? Patricia Cornwell’s got nothing on me. Bet on it.

Well a few summers ago, but who’s counting. Age is a state of mind. And mine’s in a state. But still.

So, these tomatoes. They were red, ripe and juicy looking. And you wanted to reach into the ad and pick one right off the plate. But it’s not just any plate. It’s an M&S plate. And they are most certainly not any old tomatoes, no siree, they are M&S tomatoes.

Unless you live on Mars where there is water but definitely no TV, you must have seen those ads? Or rather heard them? It’s that clever slogan that you remember. It conveys exclusivity and specialness. Plus it strongly implies pride in the brand, and so inspires consumer aspiration. Much better than the previous ‘exclusively for everyone’. Exclusively for the bin you mean. Stuart, what were you thinking?

So in a time of contracting wallets and crunching credit are M&S correct to continue with their strategy of extra-special grub for extra-special folk?

When we the humble consumer are counting our pennies and when they and other food retailers are reporting figures that are sliding as the shopper discovers the delights of Aldi and Lidl, both up with a climbing marketshare, should M&S be banging the same old advertising drum? Quite so hard.

And yet, here's something new. Their latest ‘a meal for two for a tenner’. Pardon me but doesn't that throw even more in the spotlight that usually M&S Food is horribly expensive?

You know I'm right. You get half a trolley for two trolleys of Asda goods. That Andy Bond knows his.....cheap.....onions.

And is the promotion really working? Persuading current customers to buy more and new customers to convert? Or are loyal M&S customers reaping the short-term benefits with a loss of sales and profit to the company? After all, if they can still afford to shop there then they're loaded let's face it. While new consumers to the brand are nipping in to bag two meals’ worth and shooting back to Asda for their regular shop? A lost leader to lose the plot methinks. Stuart has maybe let being Chairman go to his head, as well as to his wallet. He can afford to shop at M&S but can the rest of us? Without taking out a second mortgage I mean?

So therein lies the marketing moral. In hard times what's a CEO or Marketing Director to do? After all, what works best? More of the same......everyday low prices, every little helps, try something new today....or tactical promotions that highlight just how very expensive your products really are? By offering a brilliant, short-lived deal that shows just how much money you the retailer are usually loading onto your prices.

I know where my money isn't.

M&S can keep their tomatoes.

I'm off to Netto to buy all my fruit and veg for the same price as one punnet of M&S’s finest. And I’ll have enough left over to pay for the petrol to get there.

Posted by River, 18th August 2008

Practice what you preach?

18th August 2008

Environment. Carbon Neutral. Low C02. All buzz words, all very now, so please can someone explain why every time we enter awards whether it is the APA, PPA, BSME, or another, do we have to gather, package and post our own body weight in entry print outs and magazines?!!!!

Whilst publishers at River are constantly looking for greener alternatives for their clients through recycled paper stocks, polys, and digital solutions our governing bodies are sending us back to the dark ages.

E.g. here at dream magazine we maximise Honda’s environmental credentials by being carbon neutral. Honda pay to off-set C02 production and is actively involved with the carbon trust...we even off-set flights linked to competition prizes!

Irony has it, enter an award’s category such as best environmental innovation or Editor of the Year, pack it full of all our environmental credentials - the 100% recycled paper, bio degradable poly, dedicate content to explain how being eco-friendly doesn’t sacrifice colour and the best bit our new digital magazine solution which we hope to convert a large proportion of readers to at the cost of ABC figures...and STILL we have to send a bulk of magazines and printed entries for judging.

Ridiculous, yes.

Green, no.

Blog biog: Beth Hodder, Account Director. Now much greener than she used to be!

Posted by River, 18th August 2008

Murphy's Marketing Morals - Part 4.1 and

11th August 2008

So why is it that ads are conversation pieces nowadays? The stuff of
common parlance. Dinner party conversation to you and me, and oft better
conversational fodder than the programmes themselves? No, really. And
yet, they don’t make us buy stuff.

There I was watching something banal on Monday night. With lots of
actors in it that had been in other soaps before. Playing the same
character, different colour hair. Or no hair. Or facial hair. Over. And.
Over.

When up popped Grant Mitchell. In the commercial break. EastEnders hard
man. Remember him? Hmm. Rebekah Wade, what were you thinking when you
dumped him? Must be all your hair. You couldn’t see just how gorgeous he
is through your big, red curly hair curtain.

Anyway. There he was. Grant. Advertising Sky. And talking about his Nan.
Eh? She’s got whatever it was he was talking about apparently. Still
with me? Lord knows what it was. And all I could think about was Oh My
God! He’s posh. He’s posh in real life!

It’s becoming a bit of a theme for me, isn’t it? Posh people. Not that
I’ve got a chip. Common, me?

And later in the same ad, Felicity Kendal. A stranger pairing I confess
I’ve not seen in a while.

And both advertising the same whatchamacallit.

And all I could think about when I saw her wasn’t...isn’t she posh. I
already knew that. But. WHAT has she done to her forehead? Now you and I
know ladies, exactly what she’s done. Botoxed it? And honestly, she looks like she had her own dose and that of the next two people in the queue. And Grant’s Nan’s to boot.

Maybe she was going away for a year and asked her doctor for enough to
last. A Long. Long time. Tefal. Really.

So I’ve no idea what Sky product they were extolling the virtues of. I
was mesmerised by his voice. And her head. Two big fat appearance fees.
Okay, so Rupert can afford it. But still. Hundreds of thousands of
pounds wasted.

Her head. His voice. His voice. Her head.

And that got me thinking... As a Marketing Director you want your brand
to be synonymous with the best of the best. Look lowly consumer celebs
buy Brand X so count yourselves lucky you can too.

But choose the wrong celeb and the message gets garbled. We remember the
actor in the ad. Or their forehead! But not the product. Daft.

It makes for amusing tittle-tattle over the canapés for sure but it’s
hardly the point is it?

Where have all the proper ads gone? The boring, repetitive ones by
Procter & Gamble and Unilever. Nanette Newman in a field full of
scouts with hands that do dishes, brandishing the bottle of Fairy?

The ones we hated. But by God you remembered the product. And the
annoying jingle. And you bought the brand. Not because of Nanette. No
relation to Grant’s Nan. But because you remembered the brand.

Non-clever ads. Obvious ads. About products. Not celebs.

In those days we talked about the telly for the programmes. Remember?

So the marketing moral? Get your ad agency to go back to basics. Simple,
obvious messages. Product first and second. Celeb last.

Dinner party conversation will doubtless suffer but, hey, we can just
drink more. There’s nothing more interesting to a drunk than himself,
after all.

Less celebs. Lower appearance fees. Ergo cheaper, more effective ads.
Felicity will have to go back to making programmes to make the same
crust. Or less. And if it’s less, her wrinkles will thank you for it.

Posted by River, 11th August 2008

now Murphy's Marketing Morals - Part 4.2

11th August 2008

So there we were talking about hair.

Not ‘down there’ hair. And if that was your first thought, then I'd advise a shrink, as in a psychologist. Or a wax. Or both.

Or burn all those magazines. It’s time.

In the US, you probably can get both simultaneously come to think of it. Wax and therapy. They seem to cater for the majority of whims and foibles over there.

No, I mean hair on your head. Or not on your head if you are bald, obviously. Not that I have anything against the follicly challenged at all. I had a bit of a thing for Yul Brynner truth be told, altho that might be because he had lovely manners. Even when he was shouting at the
governess in The King And I, he always called her Mrs Anna.
And my partner. Not Jane. She's got loads of hair. No. The lovely Gerry. He's bald, too. But more of that another time.

Anyway. Hair. Head hair. It says a lot about a person. Makes a statement.

Glossy, well groomed, and regularly trimmed. Attention to detail. Personal pride ergo... a completer finisher.

Short back and sides. I mean business, (or equally a bun if you’re a lady or one of those martial arts guys. Not to be sexist or martial arts-ist. Eh?).

Carefully tousled. Look at me, I'm sexy. Or I've just got up and I can't be naffed to comb it. Or I buy TIGI products. Bed Head. There's hours in an agency Think Tank for you! Hmm. It’s obviously a teenage thing.

Mohican. Be afraid. Or I'm an exhibitionist. Or in the case of my eight year old, Archie, I’ve nicked my dad’s hair gel!

A number one. I hate everyone. Or, these days, I've got nits.

Hair envy. Let's face it. We’ve all felt it.

Is that why we spend a fortune on our hairdressers? Or is that for the conversation, AKA free counselling? Or, more likely, the access to gossip. Come on, be honest.

Ooo no, she didn't? Well. You could always tell she was a wrong 'un.

You're despairing of me ever getting to the point. But this is it. I’ve just been to the cinema. The Dark Knight. Brilliant. And in the trailers, appropriate to the film. Which they weren't. But that's a whole other
blog.

Anyway.

Two hair ads came on. Herbal Essences. You know the one. The girl in the shower giving it YES YES and YES a bit more. Maybe there really is something in the brush off... No sorry, I can't come out tonight. I'm
washing my hair. You know what I'm saying...... Good time guaranteed with every wash. Harry didn't need to waste his cash taking Sally for brunch. A bottle of HE would have hit the spot...

And the L’Oréal one or is it Garnier?....give yourself highlights at home one. Or is it low lights? It’s lights anyway. What they don't tell you is that ideally you need a friend or six to avoid ending up looking like
a badger’s....ahem....tail. Or worse, Davina McCall. You know what I'm saying. And all this... Because you’re worth it.

If you’re worth it, why not pay a few extra quid and go to a proper hairdresser’s, I say. Before you end up looking like an extra from the The Mallen Streak. Catherine Cookson will sue.

So hair. And the marketing moral. Why don't they make straightforward ads that sell products properly nowadays? Why do they sell additional benefits and not the real benefit?

Do you want clean hair. Or to get a bit shouty in the shower. And be subject to an ASBO if you wash every day. That didn't get any airtime did it? The anti-social implications of Herbal Essences? Or the possibility
of resembling Davina McCall. Enough said.

When I was at Procter & Gamble, we were told features and benefits sell. Not superficial, nonsensical add ons.

My favourite ad is the Ronseal one. It does exactly what it says on the tin.

And you can't say fairer than that.

Posted by River, 11th August 2008

Passionate about Promotions (and biscuits)

8th August 2008

Aside from being the resident biscuit queen, those who know me might say I am a little bit anal and somewhat of a perfectionist, I have on occasion heard the term ‘OCD’ mentioned...

Well, it’s completely true and I don’t deny it.

I just like things done a certain way...the right way, my way.

Anyway it’s these very principles that I apply to my role at River Publishing.

As the Group Promotions Manager (AKA Head of Freebies) it is my responsibility to oversee the promotional content for every single one of our titles, source promotions, reader offers, cover mounts and giveaways and write the legal blurb (officially known as the terms and conditions). It feels like a 3 man job but with my multiple personalities we’re are probably over-staffed.

How do I know I am good at my job? Simple. I said so – and I am never wrong.

Our competition response rates speak for themselves. The recently acquired Co-operative magazine attained 45,420 responses, a record 9.38% response rate! (Just had to blow my own trumpet on that one).

Thank god the Royal Mail introduced PIP (that’s shafting charging us by size and weight), as our handling house used to get comp entries on everything from used pizza boxes (gross) to worn (that’s cheesy rather than holey) socks!

My job is quite varied and whilst no two days are the same it is very busy – despite what my daily biscuit consumption may portray!

Basically I look after every element of the promotion process from inception to completion.

Now I know most people think I just bend over and parp out promotions on some sort of conveyor belt. Not true. A hell of a lot of work goes into getting there. Research, a sales pitch, direct mail, organizing artwork and copy, liaising with the internal design team, organizing competition entry mechanism (and monitoring of such) copy sign off, dispatch of printed copies to relevant parties, evaluations, notifying winners, dispatch of prizes and of course writing promotional terms and conditions.

Of all of this, letting winners know that they have won a prize is one of the nicer parts of the job. We did a wonder bra promotion once whereby I had to call up each winner for her bra size. That was interesting. Can’t wait until we do a promotion for Jock straps. I may offer to deliver and fit those personally!

One of the single most important parts of my job, is ensuring that there are enough biscuits for the t's and c’s (teas and coffees). There’s nothing more nerve-racking for me than a peckish publisher. I also have to ensure that the other t’s and c’s (terms and conditions) are perfect. You can have the best promotions in the world but it would all come crashing down around your ears for so simple a mistake as not getting this element right.

I am always aghast at the blatantly negligible terms that I see in rival publications and as with the recent knuckle rap the telephone industry has received for poor practice, its just a matter of time before this sector of the industry falls under the magnifying glass.

As we look after a number of consumer facing brands such as Superdrug, Weight Watchers Magazine, Bonmarché and The Co-operative Group, any errors in this area not only cause damage to River Publishing as a company but also to the brand and reputation of our clients, and that in my book is unacceptable.

Here at River Publishing the Promotions Team recognizes the importance of every single one of these issues and therefore strives to achieve 100% effort and compliance in all areas.

So compliance, accuracy, value and a good cookie are my trademarks.

Have a look at any of our magazines and you will see exactly what I am talking about. Me – I’m off to scoff another bikkie.

Blog biog: Angie Morris, mother of 2, (3 if you count her partner). Angie hates tea, coffee and any form of peas. Usually has a good stock of biscuits at her desk.

Posted by River, 8th August 2008

Murphy's Marketing Morals - Part 3

6th August 2008

Mornin' campers. Rise and shine. Hi-de-hi.

It's that time of year again. You work like a dog all year to save up to get away...and then you work like a dog to squeeze into a bikini on the beach.

I'm lying about the last one. Truth be told they still harpoon in so many places these days, I'm scared to venture out semi-clad.

So, there we were contemplating a well earned rest. Weighing up the veritable merits of a break under canvas...the delights of an authentic experience. Tea in a tin mug and a sausage in a bun. Those were t'days me lad...versus two weeks of the Redcoats answer to Britains...not got...Talent. With a donkey derby thrown in.

How had it come to this? Had the credit crunch ground up and spat out all our other hollie options this great British summer? Were we truely contemplating a UK break? Sans the sun?

Apparently so.

When its bad for some though, others benefit threefold. You can stick your foreign travel where the sun does shine. Ask Graham Parr (the Pontins boss to you and me).

Now look, I'm not a snob.

I've been to a Pontins holiday camp.. .I've experienced the brand. Touched its points and traversed its customer journey.

Once.

It was a hen weekend in 1992. I can't remember much (in any detail) at all ok? Too many rum and blacks and too much Gloria Gayna. At least she survived! I'll never be the same again. Nor will the hen. Divorced. Then he married her sister. Nasty business.

Anyway. Pontins. Recent research says that a whopping 70% of Brits are forgoing sun, sea and sangria this year for a break in Old Blighty. And how do I know this? I read it in a promotional feature in a magazine.

That's marketing that is.

Build awareness...and they will come. Make the price attractive and put it in a brightly coloured star device...and they will come sooner. I know book sooner makes better sense okay, but come sooner scans better!

Come to Pontins it said and listed the delights on offer. And the price. That's what made me look twice campers. The price.

Cheap.

Lots to do. And a club for the kids so you can pretend they're not with you and really enjoy yourselves.

A whole dps - that's a double page spread to us publishing types - of promotional copy selling fun, fun, fun.

How could we resist? And if we couldn't afford the price tag we could win a Pontins family holiday by entering a competition in a panel on the side. Data capture. Clever.

So, did we book the under canvas experience or the holiday camp dear reader? It was a tough call for sure.

Songs around the camp fire with smores...that's a marshmallow with biscuit and chocolate for the uninitiated...and a sausage or two. The delights of the outdoors and the wind in our hair. And let's face it, whistling through the tent flaps no doubt.

Or...karaoke, a snooker ladder and a bunk bed with optional duvet. Ten quid a week surcharge. And a load of X Factor rejects for entertainment.

The latter. Obviously.

Why so?

Its the power of promotion and price put together in an editorial format.

A bit like Ainsley Harriet tells it in those dishwasher tablet ads. When you need more power harness the right tools. In this case I'm not talking an electric hedge trimmer, but rather, promotional copy in an editorial format.

It's more believeable to the reader who already trusts the magazine he or she is reading. They paid good money for it after all.

Smart that bit. Its sales copy that emulates real copy and the competition is a thank you for reading it, thrown in for good measure and positive effect.

The double whammy is that phone entries can offset production costs too (with the correct legals of course).

So, utilise the power of magazine promotion if you want more bang for your buck Mr Marketing Director. The customer pays for the copy and the prize and gives you their name and address to boot. It worked for Mr Parr.

And it worked for me. I'll think fondly of that star-like logo when I'm belting out 'I will survive' on the karaoke. Safe in the knowledge that I'll be the recipient of many offers from the nice people at Pontins in future years. So I can come back again and again. As often as I like. Or not.

Ok. That's it. Shoot me now.

Posted by River, 6th August 2008

The lunchtime legend is back

5th August 2008

Hoping was not enough - Angelica's back...and talking elephants

http://thelunchtimelegend.blogspot.com/

Posted by River, 5th August 2008

Murphy's Marketing Morals - Part 2

29th July 2008

So there we were talking about whether Marco Pierre White is sexy or not.

Jane, business partner, fourteen long and dark years. But she's enjoyed it. Well, she said Phoar not arf! Or, to be accurate, since she's more than a bit posh...ooh goodness, yes.... incredibly. And went all unnecessary. While I made sick noises and pretended to throw up in the waste bin. I'm well known for my grown up, lady like demeanour. Infantile, moi?!

What had prompted this intellectual exchange dear reader? Had we seen Mr stick your three Michelin stars where the sun don't shine on TV, read an interview, gasp, pressed the flesh and actually met him?

None of the above.

It was marketing wot' done it!

We two...opinion formers that we clearly are...in the process of... ahem...getting down with the kids...had been asked to write a postcard each for a Central St Martins students' art project.

Entitled Love Secrets.

You fill in a postcard, second class stamp, to put you in your place lest you think said student really gives a stuff about what floats your boat. Or your partners. Or. Actually I'm going to stop right there.

You snail mail...that's DM to the initiated...your insight back to Student, who doubtless sticks it on the inside of a tent and flogs it for a sqillion quid. Or am I mixing that up with Tracey Emin?

Anyway. That's where Marco. Can I call you Mr White? Comes in.

Jane. Business partner. Posh. Long suffering. Keep up. Well her love secret was a direct request to Mr Marco. Which, to be honest I'm not sure her husband will be too chuffed about. But there you go! You're intrigued now aren't you? But I'm not one to dob in a mate, unless there's alcohol involved, so you'll have to wait until Student erects his or her tent to discover Jane's Love Secret. Assuming you can afford the doubtless toppy price tag of what passes for modern art these days of course.

Marco, if you're reading this I'll tell you in person obviously. I'll be the one face down in front of you on the floor, with the tall redhead mowing me down.

So the marketing moral of this story?

Good old postcards can still elicit a response.

And, gasp, are still utilised by other demographics. Not just grannies responding to competitions in Saga Magazine.

Sorry Mum.

The Yoof of Today doesn't just rely on the internet when weighty life conundrums need to be debated. DM is not dead. It's hiding...Too often under a second class stamp. But it's heart is still beating.

And in a corner office in Leicester Square a heart is also beating for Marco.

Posted by River, 29th July 2008

Agency Attitude - Part 1

24th July 2008

Newsflash. Barbie has a sister. Did you know?

And no, its not Sindy.

If you thought it was then you’ve given away your age right there! You are as young as me.

Keep up. Sindy has emigrated from the UK and lives in a trailer park. She shuns the bright lights now...No really.

She and Barbie don't talk anymore. Something to do with a two timing incident and the misappropriation of a pink nail polish. Way back in the early nineties.

While we're on the subject of feuds...Barbie doesn't speak to her half sister either.

Why so? She got fed up with her younger siblings copycat ways apparently.

You may have heard of Barbie’s sister actually. Assuming you’re a fan of lawyery gossip. Her name is Bratz.
Bratz is everything Barbie despises in a toy.

She's pouty, flirty and very naughty. Her pink trailer is full of half used make up and brassy plastic underwear, not ponies, like clean living outdoorsy Barbie.

She is the ying to Barbie’s yang. Although they do have the same upturned almond shaped eyes and long blonde locks. Funny that.

Barbie is a successful woman in her own right. She's been married to Mr. Mattel for years. Whereas Bratz swings with the times. She's got a sugar daddy to pay for her japes and his name is Bryant. Carter Bryant. No it’s not a made up name. He's American.

The problem is. And here's the rub. Bryant used to work for Mr. Mattel.

And the point?

Copyright. That's the point. And in the case of Barbie and Bratz... it’s copyright war.

The battle ground in this spat is unfortunately for Bratz, in California. Those Americans love a bit of paternity sleeze! Eddie Murphy ain't got nothing on this.

We are talking paternity here too. Of a doll. And this Dollies daddy isn't taking the accusations of infidelity lying down either.

Seriously though. It will likely prove an expensive paternity suit with the time of conception the pivotal argument.

Only in the States eh?

By contrast its shockingly different this side of the pond.

Both apropo copyright on products, and also, sadly for us UK agency types, on marketing campaign work.

Soho bars are full of half cut pitch teams crying it should have been me into their sixth Pina Colada. Then when the winning campaign is aired we find the business development director on the same bar stool complaining bitterly of copied pitch designs.

The client beauty parade is too often a trawl for ideas with which to feed the incumbent.

Bitter moi? No but I’ve seen it happen.

And the marketing moral?

Be brave enough you agency types to demand a pitch fee. Agencies should be paid for creative thought. Even outside of a contract.

Ask for a full debrief whether you win or lose.

And refuse to plagiarize another agencies designs.

I’ll eagerly await the influx of agency led stories in Campaign naming and shaming.

Yeah right.

But you see. That's the point. Until we respect our work and our right to own our creative thought, we will always be a supplier and not a partner.

Think about it.

Now. Can someone help me off my high horse please? I’ve got a drink waiting at the bar with my name on it. And its not my first.

While I'm waxing lyrical...and this side of coherent...do you remember those weekend wrestling bouts when Sindy was a girl? With Grannies beating Mick MacManus over the head with their handbags?

I'm thinking of taking it up.

Kerpow! Barbie babe. You go girl!!

Posted by River, 24th July 2008

Murphy's Marketing Morals - Part 1

22nd July 2008

So, we got this direct mailing through the letter box and even though it was a tacky flyer and not a well produced, entertaining, thoughtfully sent, excellently targeted customer magazine......natch!.... I read it. Or more accurately my children rescued it from the recycling bin before I could hide it underneath a Waitrose wine box. Brought round by a friend obviously. I don't drink.

(First blog I've written actually, so if it’s the first and last you’ll know the Blog Police took me away for lying.)

So, this flyer. And the power of the letter box message, have brought me here….

Bracknell Ice Rink.

And that's how I come to be gliding effortlessly around, arabesqueing my heart out......oh ok .....being shown up by my eleven-year-old and eight-year-old who are whizzing off, no fear, looking like they've been at it for years.

While I, dear reader, am crawling...can one crawl on blades?....around the rink clinging onto the sides. And not easily either. My fingers are freezing. Who’d have thought it would be cold in an ice rink, eh?!

But that's not the half of it. That piece of DM. Curse it. That piece of inferior quality DM, in fact. It led to my current humiliation ...and cringe..... most probably a place in the Bracknell Post.

Am I the next Jayne Torvill I hear you asking yourselves? It wouldn't be a surprise, for sure, to those that know my athletic prowess. But no. I'm famous today for falling spectacularly on my proverbial and splitting my jeans. Not a titchy tear but a waistband-to-knee job.

Pants on parade.

If the Ultimo scout had been out today scouting in Bracknell....

Look, it could happen.

It would be me modelling their new underwear range now. No question. Not that Mel B.

So the marketing moral of this story? Don't forgo the letterbox and invest only online when acquisition of new customers or product trial is your goal.

I read it. I came. I tried it. I hated it. I might sue. But you get the picture. It worked.

DM still works. And I've got the bruises to prove it.

Blog biog: Nicola Murphy. 44. Ravishingly beautiful (short sighted). Very clever – MBA/PHD in marketing (likes the sound of own voice)). Founding partner in River.

Posted by River, 22nd July 2008

Angelica Starhausen...god help us all

22nd July 2008

We don't know how it happened, but River seems to have collected it's very own superfan (or if you prefer, stalker) - the lovely Angelica Starhausen. By all means visit her blog (by clicking the link below) and, if you dare, feel free to drop her a line...

Enjoy

http://thelunchtimelegend.blogspot.com/

Posted by River, 22nd July 2008

What the hell are folksonomies?

14th July 2008

A ‘folksonomy’ is a type of classification system for online content, created by an individual user who tags information with freely chosen keywords; as well as the cooperation of a group of people to create such a classification system.

Although the original concept of user-generated tagging of web material had been around a while, 2004 set the scene with the launch of sites such as del.icio.us and Flickr. Originally, ‘folksonomies’ related to the anthropological study of ‘folk taxonomies’ which examined classification systems originating from social knowledge. Whereas traditional taxonomies are classifications applied in a hierarchical (and methodical manner), independent of personal feeling, folksonomies are based on the subjective categorisation of the individual who tags something.

Simply put, folksonomies help individuals to store and re-access web links in much the same way as the bookmarking function used in browsers. One of the principle examples of a folksonomic application, del.icio.us, was created when programmer Joshua Schachter became frustrated by being unable to remember where good articles on the Web were, and so produced a program that let him tag web links for easy access…and so del.icio.us was born, a site to enable individuals to keep an online record of their personal trawls. Furthermore, studies which examine the nature of the inputted tags have found that the majority of labels containing information are relevant only to the tagger – such as ‘mywork’ or ‘toread’ - suggesting that the majority of users bookmark principally for their own benefit.

As del.icio.us and other folksonomy-based tools grow, they benefit from the same type of collective intelligence as Google PageRank - as more people use the service, the more widespread the tags become, and the better they describe what they link to. In theory this should make folksonomies useful places to sift through information (a hotly contested issue), firstly by describing the content, and secondly, the number of people who have tagged a link suggests the quality of its content. A folksonomy, therefore, can potentially provide an alternative to the search engine.

The construction of groups using folksonomies is also important for their use as information-finding tools. Words have different meanings and values in different social settings. If you type something into Google, PageRank displays the most ‘popular’ usage of your term; but what if you do not value what is most universally popular? If you type in the same request but this time searching within the folksonomy of a group you belong to who share your interests, you should generate results closer to your definition of the term because others, who hold similar opinions to you, have been tagging links on this basis. Words can also have different meanings in different social groupings. For instance, many del.icio.us users seem to have a strong technical background: the list of the most popular tags used on the site include ‘blog’, ‘web2.0’ and ‘design’. If you enter the word ‘design’ into Google search, the results are a list of graphic designers/museums; put the same search into del.icio.us, and the top links are to computer software design sites. The del.icio.us site itself acts as a large group of people who share similar interests; searching from within the links created by this collection of people thus makes the information returned to you more relevant and meaningful.

Through utilising network and groups which create tagging systems with specialised, socially-constructed vocabularies, folksonomies cater for the niche.

Posted by River, 14th July 2008

What the hell is a wiki?

17th June 2008

Knowledge sharing through collaboration

A wiki is a web page which anybody with user privileges can log in, edit and save. Technically, wiki's use simplified hypertext markup – a language which strips HTML down into its most basic elements... to you and me you can log on, edit and save.

The first software was called ‘wiki-wiki’ as an alliterative substitute for quick ('wiki' is Hawaiian for 'quick'), avoiding the term ‘quick-web’. The first wiki was created in March 1995 by programmer Ward Cunningham; by 2005, it contained over 30,000 pages. Since Cunningham released his software, the format has been taken up by public and private projects alike, Wikipedia being the most obvious example.

Thanks to their extreme openness wikis are intrinsically collaborative, inherently good at organising and creating knowledge in specific ways. Wikis are best suited to summarising a debate or collecting knowledge on something; they are not so useful for presenting opinions (even though many people do...). As they depend on cooperation, wikis tend to encourage people to contribute objective material from a neutral standpoint.

Since anyone can edit everything, their content has the potential to be ego-less, time-less and never finished, thus changing the traditional publishing notions of authorship and ownership. Unlike blogs, they value consensus above individual authorship and importance of information over chronological display. Underlying this open system is the concept of ‘softsecurity’ or open moderation; vandalism, for instance, is amended quickly and easily because many people are openly involved at the same time.

Essentially, a wiki is a good example of the collective intelligence of the Web at work: it has the capacity to focus many minds on the completion of one task. The emphasis on collaboration and consensus does not mean wikis lack the contentious debate of the blog. Wikis therefore lend themselves to the purpose of communication in order to produce something which usually exists within fairly well-defined limits: encyclopaedic knowledge; perpetually updated lists; meeting plans, agendas and minutes; even producing a book or magazine. These are things in which collective decision-making is an advantage and conclusions need to be reached.

The level of collaboration and interaction which occurs between the users of wikis is such that they might be regarded as communities. The architecture and functions of the wiki software mean that these communities are formed for the specific purpose of creating, sharing and organising information. They might be based on a pre-existing group of individuals – such as a school or a corporation – or they might be groupings which evolve because of their use of the wiki space. Most of the millions of wikis already in existence are designed for small, well-defined groups of people, such as corporate team members collaborating on presentations or project calendars. Wikipedia, on the other hand, is an example of an online community built around the wiki. Although anyone can edit it, fewer than one per cent of all users carry out half of the total edits.

In the case of Wikis, as with all the other examples of 'Web 2.0' we will be discussing in the 'What the hell is series', social networks and communication are by-products of other forms of information gathering or production. What does it mean for the development of the Web when tools are designed for social networking as the primary end goal of human communication?

Posted by River, 17th June 2008