Friday 27 March 2009
Monday 23 March 2009
Initial work for YCN brief. PRETTY BORING.
Background
Launched in 2000, asos.com has become the largest independent online fashion and beauty store
attracting four million visitors a month. asos.com has developed a loyal fashion following of people that
regularly visit the site to get the latest fashion pieces, style news and outfit inspiration.
asos.com has four “shops” onsite; menswear and grooming, womenswear, beauty and asos Red which
sells discount designer brands at a fraction of the cost.
Brand Value
— Authority. Staying one step ahead of the fashion zeitgeist whilst giving customers what they want when
they want it.
— Choice. Over 18,000 products online at any one time and representing over 600 brands covering high
street, designer and premium brands. A wealth of choice in one easy-to-shop online fashion store.
— Value. Great value, directional own buy product complimented by leading fashion brands.
— Best friend. Communication should feel personal.
Target Market
Fashion forward 16 to 34 year olds.
Challenges
Although awareness of asos.com is fairly equal amongst our target audience (males 40% females 44%),
asos is still seen by many as a female brand. Although men in the target market are comfortable shopping
online, they would be more likely to be shopping for electronics or music.
Pretty boring so far. I have another idea that feels more personal & witty though.
Launched in 2000, asos.com has become the largest independent online fashion and beauty store
attracting four million visitors a month. asos.com has developed a loyal fashion following of people that
regularly visit the site to get the latest fashion pieces, style news and outfit inspiration.
asos.com has four “shops” onsite; menswear and grooming, womenswear, beauty and asos Red which
sells discount designer brands at a fraction of the cost.
Brand Value
— Authority. Staying one step ahead of the fashion zeitgeist whilst giving customers what they want when
they want it.
— Choice. Over 18,000 products online at any one time and representing over 600 brands covering high
street, designer and premium brands. A wealth of choice in one easy-to-shop online fashion store.
— Value. Great value, directional own buy product complimented by leading fashion brands.
— Best friend. Communication should feel personal.
Target Market
Fashion forward 16 to 34 year olds.
Challenges
Although awareness of asos.com is fairly equal amongst our target audience (males 40% females 44%),
asos is still seen by many as a female brand. Although men in the target market are comfortable shopping
online, they would be more likely to be shopping for electronics or music.
Pretty boring so far. I have another idea that feels more personal & witty though.
Saturday 21 March 2009
Friday 20 March 2009
Sunday 1 March 2009
Magic Tea
I was recently doing some research and came across the term 'commodity fetishism' as coined by Karl Marx. 'Fetishism' in this case refers to the classic definition, a religious 'fetish' - an object, usually a doll, which is believed to possess power. As consumers we believe in the power of the things we buy.
It reminded me of a metaphor for the beauty industry-as-religion, I think it was Naomi Wolf who was discussing this - an interesting point although The Beauty Myth was appallingly lacking in proof or convincing research and full of leaps of faith.
She identified 'beauty' as a religion, 'ugliness' (and particularly the substance of fat) as evil/sin, and the various beauty 'rituals' as, well - its rituals.
It's not just the beauty industry that works in this way - although it is possibly the purest example - consumerism in general draws many parallels with religious faith. It seems that, as modern and cynical as we may feel, the need for magic, ritual and faith remains, and has been re-appropriated in the bosom of consumerism.
This week we were putting together a short educational film about drawing. 'The Story Of Art' by E.H. Gombrich and also James brought up points about cave paintings and drawings in primitive cultures having actual, real uses
in their eyes - images to ward off evil spirits, or to help with hunting - images with uses as valid as those of the huts built to keep out the weather, according to Gombrich.
We've always loved rituals, perhaps needed them. Is the faith and pleasure and belief we feel when we lovingly apply a cream to our face any less ridiculous than, for instance, a wiccan ritual with candles and stones? (I briefly moved piles of stones around and played with ouji boards as a teenager myself, but did not have grounds enough for any sort of belief).
In Sainsbury's earlier, I was buying things I did not need, and desperately trying to resist the urge to buy things because they cost 20p less than before i ever wanted them. I noted that they've now moved the impulse buys to where the queue waits - overpriced bite-sized biscuits, novelty items, cakes and wine.
I saw a selection of herbal teas in the health shop on the way home. Roobois - good for your mind, body and soul.
They're selling ethical righteousness and spiritual beliefs. Nothing unusual there. What occurred to me though was the direct reference to magical ritual that lies in the tea-making process. Infusing a special selection of dried leaves in hot water, watch the steam rise as if from a witch's brew, and then imbibing it, half-suspicious of its actual properties, but willing to have faith in its power (Chamomile is calming. Roobois is good for your mind, body and soul. Don't you know?) Magic won't work without faith. You have to concentrate, to believe - and the packet and the myths surrounding whatever particular tea we're making provides us with fuel for belief. So add hot water and leave it to do magical things and drink it down and you will have a good mind, body and soul. Advertising supplies 'proof' of its power so that we can take pleasure in the ritual.
We want to believe in the magical properties of the things we buy: herbal tea, anti-wrinkle creams, 'beauty' treatments - creams, potions, we do. In the same way we want to believe in religion. But the methods of getting us to believe are more sophisticated - they have to be, because we have a thousand times more sources of information, and we have a huge array of different versions of exactly the same product from which to choose. Hence, pseudo-science: microbeads, pentapeptides, scientific studies, the word 'dermatalogical' in everything, computer-generated graphics of brightly coloured layers of skin, strange orbs everywhere. 'Consuming' a substance is often an important part of religious ritual - magic potions, the body of Christ, etc. We consume tea and health foods for the same reason. Bath and shower products for women are often fragranced with fruit, or chocolate, or 'strawberries and cream', or are named as a 'souffle', a 'cream'. We bathe in them in place of eating them (because eating is evil). So, in a way that is more real than we might first realise, we are 'consuming' them. Cigarettes are 'consumed' in this physical way, also. Smoke has to do with magic - fire is magical. Consumer products: the fetishes of our magic rituals.
I have some hair wax product of some kind which has an interesting selling point. It claims to contain 'fibres' which are activated by 'clapping'. This made me believe that it must be a really good thing to have: it must do something amazing.
Why? Because there is a ritual involved. I am involved in the process of making it work. Clap to activate: like one of those impressive light switches. As I clap, I imagine the amazing way in which the product has now been 'activated' and is 'working'. Even though I have absolutely no way of knowing whether or not it has done anything at all.
Same with eye creams, moisturizers, firming lotions, anti-ageing products... and a vast array of products outside of this category which rely on the same principle, but in different ways.
When historians look back on our culture, our beauty rituals, our tea-making, will be no different to the rituals that we look back on now and find archaic and naive.
Now, I am going to have a cup of tea.
It reminded me of a metaphor for the beauty industry-as-religion, I think it was Naomi Wolf who was discussing this - an interesting point although The Beauty Myth was appallingly lacking in proof or convincing research and full of leaps of faith.
She identified 'beauty' as a religion, 'ugliness' (and particularly the substance of fat) as evil/sin, and the various beauty 'rituals' as, well - its rituals.
It's not just the beauty industry that works in this way - although it is possibly the purest example - consumerism in general draws many parallels with religious faith. It seems that, as modern and cynical as we may feel, the need for magic, ritual and faith remains, and has been re-appropriated in the bosom of consumerism.
This week we were putting together a short educational film about drawing. 'The Story Of Art' by E.H. Gombrich and also James brought up points about cave paintings and drawings in primitive cultures having actual, real uses
in their eyes - images to ward off evil spirits, or to help with hunting - images with uses as valid as those of the huts built to keep out the weather, according to Gombrich.
We've always loved rituals, perhaps needed them. Is the faith and pleasure and belief we feel when we lovingly apply a cream to our face any less ridiculous than, for instance, a wiccan ritual with candles and stones? (I briefly moved piles of stones around and played with ouji boards as a teenager myself, but did not have grounds enough for any sort of belief).
In Sainsbury's earlier, I was buying things I did not need, and desperately trying to resist the urge to buy things because they cost 20p less than before i ever wanted them. I noted that they've now moved the impulse buys to where the queue waits - overpriced bite-sized biscuits, novelty items, cakes and wine.
I saw a selection of herbal teas in the health shop on the way home. Roobois - good for your mind, body and soul.
They're selling ethical righteousness and spiritual beliefs. Nothing unusual there. What occurred to me though was the direct reference to magical ritual that lies in the tea-making process. Infusing a special selection of dried leaves in hot water, watch the steam rise as if from a witch's brew, and then imbibing it, half-suspicious of its actual properties, but willing to have faith in its power (Chamomile is calming. Roobois is good for your mind, body and soul. Don't you know?) Magic won't work without faith. You have to concentrate, to believe - and the packet and the myths surrounding whatever particular tea we're making provides us with fuel for belief. So add hot water and leave it to do magical things and drink it down and you will have a good mind, body and soul. Advertising supplies 'proof' of its power so that we can take pleasure in the ritual.
We want to believe in the magical properties of the things we buy: herbal tea, anti-wrinkle creams, 'beauty' treatments - creams, potions, we do. In the same way we want to believe in religion. But the methods of getting us to believe are more sophisticated - they have to be, because we have a thousand times more sources of information, and we have a huge array of different versions of exactly the same product from which to choose. Hence, pseudo-science: microbeads, pentapeptides, scientific studies, the word 'dermatalogical' in everything, computer-generated graphics of brightly coloured layers of skin, strange orbs everywhere. 'Consuming' a substance is often an important part of religious ritual - magic potions, the body of Christ, etc. We consume tea and health foods for the same reason. Bath and shower products for women are often fragranced with fruit, or chocolate, or 'strawberries and cream', or are named as a 'souffle', a 'cream'. We bathe in them in place of eating them (because eating is evil). So, in a way that is more real than we might first realise, we are 'consuming' them. Cigarettes are 'consumed' in this physical way, also. Smoke has to do with magic - fire is magical. Consumer products: the fetishes of our magic rituals.
I have some hair wax product of some kind which has an interesting selling point. It claims to contain 'fibres' which are activated by 'clapping'. This made me believe that it must be a really good thing to have: it must do something amazing.
Why? Because there is a ritual involved. I am involved in the process of making it work. Clap to activate: like one of those impressive light switches. As I clap, I imagine the amazing way in which the product has now been 'activated' and is 'working'. Even though I have absolutely no way of knowing whether or not it has done anything at all.
Same with eye creams, moisturizers, firming lotions, anti-ageing products... and a vast array of products outside of this category which rely on the same principle, but in different ways.
When historians look back on our culture, our beauty rituals, our tea-making, will be no different to the rituals that we look back on now and find archaic and naive.
Now, I am going to have a cup of tea.
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