I find myself reading a lot about brands these days. How to make them, break them, save them, sell them. The head hoo-has in charge are always using relationship words like Love and Passion and Commitment to describe the way people “feel” about their brands.
I've been puttering around this earth for almost 30 years, and in that time, only two brands have managed to capture my unwavering loyalty. The first is Marlboro. The second is Saucony. For those unfamiliar with Saucony, they make one of the best high-stability running shoes on the market. If you don't know that Marlboro makes cigarettes (the very best cigarettes!), then even my emergency crash course, "Pop Culture for the Criminally Clueless" can not help you. Get ye to a nunnery. Go!
My allegiance to these two brands blossomed in the same place, at the same time. High school. Cross country season. Senior year. I would smoke the beloved Marlboros in my car while driving to and from my cross country meets. Those were beautiful times. And though I’ve since quit smoking, few images capture my essence better. Eau d’Amanda: I’m a bad ass and I don’t care. But look! look! watch me run faster than her and her and him!!
And, on the off chance you don’t already know this, Mom, Dad, it was me who burned the cigarette holes in the DRIVER’S SIDE door of my Volkswagen Golf. Not my inconsiderate, ill-parented, filthy chain-smoking friend Pam. (So rude! So disrespectful! I let her drive my car and then she pulls a crazy stunt like this!) There is no Pam.
Anyway, just this past Friday afternoon, I was discussing, OK, BRAGGING, about my profound commitment to these brands. How I still carry a torch (figuratively) for the Marlboros and how Saucony and I are practically soul mates, blah blah blah.
Less than 24 hours later, my feet ran off with the sexy Mizuno twins from the UK. I’d gone to Fleet Feet Sports with the intention of purchasing a new pair of Sauconys, and within minutes the sales girl had convinced me that that the Sauconys and I were all wrong for each other. The Sauconys were trying to be supportive, see, but, really, they were TOO supportive. Assisting me with problems I don’t even have. Turns out, the Mizunos are actually a much better fit for me. But she didn’t just tell me this ... she showed me, using a brilliant technique called the foot and stride analysis. (Note to Ethel and Annie: My stride, which they analyzed on VIDEOTAPE, is perfect. So, guess what? It’s not me. It’s you!)
Now, thanks to Banshee Boy and the Gasblasters, I got exactly one hour and forty-seven minutes of sleep last night, so bear with me while I muster up some profundity for you: When it comes to brands, loyalty is just another word for nothing left to choose.
Just ask my cheating feet.
When it comes to family, loyalty fits the bill. It is suppressing the urge to stuff styrofoam peanuts in your ears and scream obscenities while rocking the banshee boy to sleep. Night after merciless night.
I’m sure they’ll buy that in this morning’s marketing meeting. Sure.
I've been puttering around this earth for almost 30 years, and in that time, only two brands have managed to capture my unwavering loyalty. The first is Marlboro. The second is Saucony. For those unfamiliar with Saucony, they make one of the best high-stability running shoes on the market. If you don't know that Marlboro makes cigarettes (the very best cigarettes!), then even my emergency crash course, "Pop Culture for the Criminally Clueless" can not help you. Get ye to a nunnery. Go!
My allegiance to these two brands blossomed in the same place, at the same time. High school. Cross country season. Senior year. I would smoke the beloved Marlboros in my car while driving to and from my cross country meets. Those were beautiful times. And though I’ve since quit smoking, few images capture my essence better. Eau d’Amanda: I’m a bad ass and I don’t care. But look! look! watch me run faster than her and her and him!!
And, on the off chance you don’t already know this, Mom, Dad, it was me who burned the cigarette holes in the DRIVER’S SIDE door of my Volkswagen Golf. Not my inconsiderate, ill-parented, filthy chain-smoking friend Pam. (So rude! So disrespectful! I let her drive my car and then she pulls a crazy stunt like this!) There is no Pam.
Anyway, just this past Friday afternoon, I was discussing, OK, BRAGGING, about my profound commitment to these brands. How I still carry a torch (figuratively) for the Marlboros and how Saucony and I are practically soul mates, blah blah blah.
Less than 24 hours later, my feet ran off with the sexy Mizuno twins from the UK. I’d gone to Fleet Feet Sports with the intention of purchasing a new pair of Sauconys, and within minutes the sales girl had convinced me that that the Sauconys and I were all wrong for each other. The Sauconys were trying to be supportive, see, but, really, they were TOO supportive. Assisting me with problems I don’t even have. Turns out, the Mizunos are actually a much better fit for me. But she didn’t just tell me this ... she showed me, using a brilliant technique called the foot and stride analysis. (Note to Ethel and Annie: My stride, which they analyzed on VIDEOTAPE, is perfect. So, guess what? It’s not me. It’s you!)
Now, thanks to Banshee Boy and the Gasblasters, I got exactly one hour and forty-seven minutes of sleep last night, so bear with me while I muster up some profundity for you: When it comes to brands, loyalty is just another word for nothing left to choose.
Just ask my cheating feet.
When it comes to family, loyalty fits the bill. It is suppressing the urge to stuff styrofoam peanuts in your ears and scream obscenities while rocking the banshee boy to sleep. Night after merciless night.
I’m sure they’ll buy that in this morning’s marketing meeting. Sure.
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