Enduring values.

On Monday evening I traveled up from home in my usual four hop route – car, plane, train, taxi – a four hour stint but one that usually passes with little incident. It is the ironically the homeward leg that is occasionally delayed or fog bound. Monday however was as smooth as you could ask for, until I arrived in York Road and paid the cabbie.
Perhaps it was the fact that I had two bags or was abstractedly distracted by some passing thought, but no sooner had I crossed the street it dawned on me that my faithful briefcase was still in the cab. Which was racing 50, 80, 100 yards away before turning briskly onto Waterloo bridge. Where is the slow traffic when you really need it? With that heart-sinking feeling of stupidity and hopelessness, I stood in the middle of the road mouthing quiet prayers of hope and despair to no one in particular.
Perhaps he will glance over his shoulder and see my flapping arms. Perhaps look back at his passenger seat and see my lonesome bag, and turn back? A forlorn hope. And of course why would anyone except for budding S Holmses’ take note of a drivers number or registration plate. I certainly didn’t.
As the gravity of my thoughtlessness sunk in – the loss of my flat keys, paled to despair of losing an old leather friend – a moment of hope flickered. On paying my fare I asked for a receipt and by some chance it was the till type rather than a hand scrawled variety. Wishing expectantly for some record of the driver’s identity I fished it out of my pocket. Alas, the receipt was merely an amount and date. What a worthless trophy.
I slumped in a chair in reception and phoned directory enquiries for a central Black Cab number to report my folly. The dope on the other end kept asking where I was looking for this taxi. Despite repetion she failed to grasp the idea that despite taking a cab from Victoria to Waterloo I wasn’t looking to return the journey, I wanted the central cab office. A idea beyond her.
So I tried again. This time a sensible Scot (that is why the Scottish accent researches the best for phone line assistance) directed me to the Hackney Carriage answer phone, which in turn suggested Lost Property should be registered on line.
After dragging my daughter Rosie half way across town to so I might borrow the spare flat keys, I trudged into the office and completed the on-line registration, not with the Hackney Carriage Company as expected but linked to the less than inspiring Transport for London site.
Tuesday morning, caseless, I caught another cab and asked what the human procedure was for lost property. He advised I ring the number from the label on the side window – something that I had never noticed – and I got through to a nice London girl who took the trouble to accurately list the bag description and my meagre contents of note book, various papers, i-phone charger, keys, hairbrush – nothing of any value but somehow of special significance to me as they were attached or rather enclosed by my familiar case. She explained that all lost property needed to be handed into a London Police Station and then it would find its way to Baker Street Lost Property office. If my briefcase was indeed found, this procedure would take around two weeks but as we are entereing the Christmas period, be prepared for three or four. Sigh.
With growing sense of loss I returned to the office around three, with gloomy thoughts of some less than scrupulous passenger picking my bag up, rummaging through the contents, disappointed that it yielded no value and lobbing the thing away. After all the taxi driver hadn’t bothered to look inside, find my business cards and ring me, so why should I believe in any happy outcome?
Blow me! The fresh batch of email brought glad tidings from a PC Joseph that “property pertaining to you had been handed in at West Central Police Station, Saville Row.” What a piece of unexpected and joyous news. And how appropriate that my case should find its way to the swankiest of stations, not 100 metres from where it was purchased in Burlington Arcade some fifteen years ago.
After hot-footing over to the Station, the inconvenience of a 20 minute wait in the grim holding reception was eased by the happy sight of my trusty brown bag (instantly recognisable despite being wrapped in clear cellophane like Exhibit A) sliding towards me under the grille. Perfunctory form filling and signing complete, I clutched the freed leather to my breast like a long lost friend.
Surprised, relieved, pleased as punch, I sat smirking in another cab, somehow once again complete.
The lasting impression of the experience, beyond being more vigilant in taxi’s, is a combination of pride and being, well, impressed. Would I have got my bag back in less than 24 hours from any other cab company? Would I have got it back ever? It is very heartening to find the London cabbie really is everything we want them to be, the salt of the earth type that you really can trust. And that in combination with the Boys in Blue have it within their powers to act promptly and decisively to save some careless member of the general public from further distress.
I’ve always been a decent tipper, and do you know what, they deserve it. God bless’em all.

Waitrose. Wearing the Emperor’s new clothes.

When Waitrose, the ‘upmarket’ grocer, recently launched its first value range, it heralded the initiative to counteract the perception that its product costs more than other rival grocers, such as Aldi, Lidl, and Asda. The knitted brows at Waitrose management felt that it was suffering, being regarded as a shop for treats instead of the weekly shop.
So it has introduced 1,400 ‘Essential Waitrose’ valued added lines, 200 of which will be new, and the remaining 1,200 will be existing products trim in new packages.
New packages? . . . rather new Emperor’s New Clothes. For this new range seems a massive confidence trick. How do you reduce cost of product? Slash the print and packaging spec and chop secondary costs in one fell swoop. All very commendable you may say, in these prudent times.
Yet the moves begs an inevitable hypothesis – if we are to still regard Waitrose product as possibly superior to some retailers, and that this Essentials range will comply to all such standards, why did Waitrose not sell a range of ‘essential’ products, un-gilded by design or fancy, in the first place?
The reality is, that the marketing machine behind packaged products is so tightly controlled, that customers have been drilled to believe the classier the design the better the product. Or in monetary terms, add more to earn more.
The constant churn (deliberately odious word) of packaging design adds cost to product way beyond what anyone really wants.
Turn the grocers clock back 40 years and everyone was prepared to pay a bit extra for hand-wrapped personal service. But taking off the shelf, scanning and bagging yourself, all for a trolley-load of overblown, over packaged, dustbin fillers, hardly seems a fair exchange.
Earlier this year I took M&S to task with the following observation, which I make no apologies for repeating . . .
“A few weeks ago I witnessed an exceptional and amusing incident in M&S Islington. After paying at the checkout, one typical Islingtonesque female customer, calmly stood and stripped all the outer packaging off her purchases and handed the excessive pile back to the dumbfounded cashier. I chuckled whilst those queing behind me only glowered at the delay.
This little display presents a great opportunity for the retailer who makes a genuine commitment to selling food and stop selling packaging. How refreshing it will be when we are invited to shop by simple menu/ingredient list label, rather than picture book. How rewarding for the retailer who claims the position of genuine responsibility and a chance for real differientiation from the competition.”

So no Waitrose, it isn’t enough to ‘do your bit’ with a range of Essentials.
To really make a difference the brand statement should have been a store full of essentials. The banning of all superfluous packaging and just the good product to build the value story. In fact they should have gone even further, to advocate the refillable pack – anybody’s empty pack, and reduce the waste of shelf space, production and transportation costs to a minimum. Then we could celebrate the Store, its marketing and commercial team, their good sense, good citizenship and good practice. Now that would be of real Value.

Lest we forget

This time each year we are given the text book sample of the emotive potential of brand symbolism, Remembrance Sunday.
Whilst the Poppy was never devised as a ‘brand’ idea it communicates in a evocative way that few commercial or good causes ‘brands’ ever replicate.
The simple reason is that the story behind the symbolism is true.

The indelible association of the blood red petal and the thousands of men, fallen whilst still in the first flush of youth is hauntingly poignant. That the poppy will only surface from disturbed ground, a further quirk of fate that has become the symbol of regeneration and hope, .
Lest we forget it was Major John McCrae, a Canadian Doctor who articulated the poppy as a symbol of hope and consolation, as he endured the desperate sense of loss amongst the carnage passing through his dressing station.
“If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders Fields.”

I trust we will never have cause to celebrate the futility of death so eloquontly. Yet as a reminder to the gravity of our art there is no equal.
Truth is the mirror that every identity should reflect upon. Be it a badge of honour or a personal signature, imagery and symbolism must stand for something. We are not in the business of frippery or style whim, expressing a recognisable meaning is the overriding objective in identity design.

Inspired to greatness

This month saw the publication of ‘Inspired; Stories of Sporting Greatness’ by Sir Steve Redgrave. The book is not about his own journey, the five Olympic gold medal haul that frankly defies belief in terms of commitment, consistency and sheer bloody mindedness. Instead it identifies the traits of greatness drawn from some of of his favorite sportsmen including Muhammad Ali, Lance Armstrong, Tony McCoy, Jonny Wilkinson, Sir Bobby Charlton and Shane Warne. Nor is this book about a one-off effort, it is testament to the quality that lives within the psyche of the truly great – preparation, belief, overcoming adversity, obsession, competitiveness, teamwork, luck, star quality and perseverance.
It is this subset of factors that form the chapter headings, and it is with these that I mused, if designers were transposed as the heroes, who would take the leading roles? Or is that the traits are so universal any success story would tick the same boxes? So the musing goes a little further . . . what unique factor does the truly great designer possess?
Is it Communicator? Seer? Artist? Aesthete? Pragmatist? Wit? Writer? Come to think of it, these are some worthy titles.
At the risk of looking backwards (it is difficult to measure true greatness in less than 20 years, using the Redgrave measure) I offer a few personal heroes for your approval, some of whom I paraphrase (with apologies) for expedience.

Pragmatist -Milton Glaser
‘Never be afraid to use a cliche´ if you can find a new use for it.’

Aesthete – Eric Gill
“Culture, if it is to be a real thing and a holy thing, must be the product of what we actually do for a living — not something added, like sugar on a pill.”

Wit – Terence Conran
“Perhaps believing in good design is like believing in God, it makes you an optimist.”

Seer – Raymond Loewy
“The main goal is not to complicate the already difficult life of the consumer.”

Motivator – Dieter Rams
” The best design is as little design as possible.”

Artist – Paul Rand
“Design is so simple, that’s why it’s complicated “

Writer – Bob Gill
“There’s no such thing as “good design” or “bad design”. The design is good if it does what you want it to do. It’s bad if it doesn’t.”

Rock star – Robert Brownjohn
a student asked him “What is graphic design?” to which Brownjohn replied “I am.”

Collaborator – Jay Smith
“Howard, you have just nicked my idea again.”

Get well soon, Michael Peters

Well, last night after seemingly week’s of excited deliberation, the winner of the 50th anniversary of the Prince Philip Designer’s Prize was finally announced. No we didn’t win, nor did we expect to, particularly when we were up against people who have stretched themselves and people’s imaginations in design media far more tactile and publicly understandable than the concept of branding.
Yet (perhaps unsurprisingly) the prize went to Andy Ritchie, the designer and manufacturer of the Brompton folding bicycle. A worthy winner and very nice chap. But maybe rather a one-trick pony, at the risk of sounding churlish. Don’t get me wrong, this REALLY isn’t sour grapes, the experience of the evening and the pride in our nomination was enough for Jay and I, it just seemed on the scale of world influence that a bicycle was a rather pedestrian step – if I may mix my metaphors. Design prizes are inevitably a celebration of the past but usually mark a breakthrough for the world at large. Personally speaking a product that costs upwards of £500 quid doesn’t meet my universal criteria.
Another issue. I was brought up to understand design as a rather selfless art. That the delivery of a good, practical, aesthetically pleasing, communication or product was for the benefit of others, not as a business in its own right. Running a factory that produces your single idea lacks appeal, despite its profitability. This thought was brought into focus during a discussion after the awards with HRH Prince Philip himself. He asked Jay and I if we ever came up with new product ideas for ourselves? I guess we do, but not in a driven commercial way. Polishing our craft has always been a rather more altruistic ideal and we are too curious or not academic enough to stay in one sphere.
Being essentially a graphic designer, I guess I was unsatisfied that Michael Peters didn’t win. In an emerging brand world, Michael is a risk taker and a dream maker. From early on he preached the word on the value of a strong visual personality, that has turned ‘nothing brands’ into assets that every company now desires and values. Furthermore he has schooled and given opportunities to dozens of designers, some who have gone on to make names for themselves. Two of his ‘children’ were Howard Milton and Jay Smith. We owe him the huge debt of gratitude for the adventure and most importantly wish him a speedy return to his usual self, from his current sad and debilitating illness. That will be prize enough for us.

Free pitching debate?

That old chestnut . . . Birmingham City Council have fallen foul of the design community by asking interested agencies to to provide logo and identity design proposals and a whole raft of rationale for sub-branding, design application and a proposal for style and language for fun.
Actually, its in the pursuit of a ‘world class’ identity for the Library of Birmingham, due to open in 2013. And the princely carrot for the lucky winner – a contract worth £30,000.
I’m not sure what modeling icon Linda Evangelista would say, seeing that way back in 1997 she wouldn’t get out of bed for less than $10,000, but it seems there are some hungry folk around who will bite BCC’s hand off for a chance to play their game.
Or roll the dice. For surely the crux of this and every other unpaid chancers pitch, is that a lottery of decision making will probably accompany such a proposition.

Either Birmingham City Council are ignorant to the toil involved in achieving a cogent design identity, or they are just cynically exploiting young and desperate design teams who in the current climate will grasp at any straws.
A misguided BCC spokesperson seems to think it perfectly normal for such behaviour when tendering for “a contract of this size and high profile”. Someone should put him right. Firstly, in the world of brand influence, Birmingham’s Library is hardly up there in risk-taking reward with say, the Science Museum or the holy Olympic grail. Furthermore the project fee is more in the Miss Evangelista ambivalence camp than the life-changing department.

So who’s to blame? There are no guidelines for the BCC to follow and no charter or trade body that the design world collectively adheres to.
And hands up who hasn’t actually pitched something for free? Maybe not a full-blown identity solution that’s on the table here, but perhaps a bit of insightful thinking or a cursory critique of problem? Or be honest, a little more?
How big, how important, how tempting does the opportunity need to be to actually trigger offering our skills for free? Of course its all a matter of degree. What’s one mans free advice is another’s bread and butter.
Thirty years ago when Smith & Milton started out we would sell, sell, sell and sell ourselves to get a foot in the door and if that occasionally meant something for nothing, well that seemed the way things worked. What’s more, if we toppled a ‘trophy’ design company in the process, then the success was even sweeter. In the agency world when it comes to competition the money goes out the window.For us it was a only means to an end, a kick start to making a name. Once in play we have never shied from extolling our worth.
So lets get realistic. No one can build a business on free pitching, but if you have time on your hands and mouths to feed, no end of industry indignation is going to change it.

Branding Beckham

Last year Smith & Milton embarked on a unique challenge, to build a food brand endorsed by someone with absolutely no food credentials – David Beckham.
Of course Becks brings a whole raft of well known characteristics, traits and ideas to the pot . . . but whilst being a national sporting icon, married to a Spice Girl and being smoulderingly good looking in his CKs is not a bad start, it isn’t exactly what pops into your mind in the middle of the Tesco frozen section.
So putting David gently to one side we started where all good product ideas should start – with the product. The central idea is a range of frozen family/kids meals with something extra. This turns out to be Omega3, the Superfood fish-oil extract, giving “evidence that long-chain omega 3 fatty acids in oil-rich fish, as part of a healthy lifestyle, can help to maintain heart health” quote.
So as easy as 1-2-3, together with a touch of energy, it steered the inspiration of the new brand – GO3.
A product name however, is often the easiest of decisions given that unless you are slavishly driven by logic, you can get away with most things, if you make them visible and prevalent enough.
Of course trying to construct a superChef out of him was ridiculous and trying to raise his profile as an arbiter of healthy eating, an equally lengthy and unnecessary task. So balancing the sporty,spicy, pin-up Beckham with convenience foods seemed at first sight, more pass and move than route one (If you will forgive this sole football pun). No what we needed was to understand exactly why DB had got involved with Findus in this venture at all.
Then of course the answer became plain. Posh ‘n’ Becks are simply healthy, body conscious parents who want good food for their kids. They also happen to be fabulously wealthy, have an army of cooks and servants, but that is really missing the point. They are basically very responsible parents and if they can spread a bit of good sense elsewhere, so much the better. Not to do down Health food or even junk food, its just that very few manufacturers seemed to have grasped that ‘health-ier ‘ food is an attractive convenience option.
It was acknowledging this in Beckham that suddenly put him in another perspective. A bloke that actually cares about stuff that usually only Mums think about – doing the right thing (in the food sense) for his kids. We reckon that made him a pretty COOL DAD.
Cool Dads are a rare thing, but if you are a kid and you’ve got one, then some stuff will rub off, and if that’s how to look after your body, well – that’s a good thing. With David B it is no good going further down the football route – we don’t know how long he’s got – but his influence as a successful and genuinely nice guy has still got plenty of global mileage.

Design wise the range is pretty cool too. White packs , big GO3 mark, a typical handsome shot of Beckham and accompanying food pix vying for top billing. Yet at the risk of this all becoming too worthy, a few helpful tips on the food benefit are added by a comical stable of cartoon characters. All proven kids stuff.
We may not have re-invented the wheel but we have turned it to open for a new breed of food spokesmen.

Is branding the wrong word?

Ask anyone today about ‘what is a brand?’ and you’ll get a whole lexicon of reasoning punctuated with a good smattering of names like MacDonald’s, Apple, Disney and the ubiquitous Coca-Cola used in evidence. This general consensus seems that we subscribe to a universal idea that a brand is a big thing. It is bigger than a name, it is bigger than the people, it is bigger than a logo. It is an idea about a company/product/person/thing and the neatest way to sum it all up is to call it a ‘brand’.
I however, am not so sure.
When I first got into this design game, brands were not a prevalent thing. Product and company ruled the day and the arch exponent at the time – Wally Olins – called the ‘big’ aspects I have already listed as – Corporate Identity. There seemed a perfectly sound logic to this, in that the big fish for the design world are of course the corporations and to land one which requires an identity make-over is the primary business goal. Coupled with this of course is the reasoning that ‘corporate’ is derived from the latin ‘corpus corporis’ meaning of course, a body. Now whilst body as a word may come with a whole canon of meanings that are not particularly helpful to us, it does provide one overiding point; that a body, be it company or individual is a complex and many faceted thing. So as far as I was concerned, I understood what Wally O was talking about.
Brand on the other hand was an altogether less contentious and easy to comprehend word – “to mark (goods, cattle,slaves, or criminals) with a brand” agree most dictionaries. A simple and understandable concept – branding in its crudest form was a red hot piece of metal seared into the skin or fabric, to claim ownership.
So why have the ‘communicators’ allowed such a clear idea to be sullied and muddled by adding such suffix as – image, leader, name, loyalty, messenger, awareness, management etc and dress it up as something bigger than a corporate/body? Brand is not a verb. Branding is a singular act and though there may be a brandee, a brander and a branded, it should all add up to the same thing – the mark of ownership.
I blame Wolff Olins. The benchmark business who achieved clear personalty in its clients Corporate Identity, are no longer in the business of Corporate Identity. They are, quote, ” a brand business”, and what’s more they are a 3-sided brand business, being experts in ‘Brand strategy, Brand-led innovation and Brand expression’. Today Wally Olins under his new guise as Saffron sees it as ” a new brand world”. Poor old Corporate Identity doesn’t get a look in. In fact so unfashionable is the idea of it that the very term is missing not just from the Olins stable but from the very dictionaries that state what a true piece of branding is. How confusing is that?

False nostalgia

Amongst the tactical ploys that brands are trying right now is ‘forced nostalgia’. The idea that we are all wallowing in some jolly boat that laps up the tide of yesteryear as some sort of security blanket. What you can never replicate in this, is the memory. Unless you have actively experienced sepia photographs, the Blitz, cobbled streets and grainy film stars, this type of nostalgia is just a style veneer. Seeing Dame Vera Lynn challenging the Arctic Monkeys for the number one spot in the album charts, at the age of 92 is an perverse example. Now countless Mums and Grannies are receiving “We’ll meet again” from innumerate kids who think all old folk hold Dame Vera dear. Not all memories ring true.
But the vanquishing of something like Woolworth’s (a favourite topic of this blog) does raise a tear of regret. Part of losing an old friend like Woolies, is that we miss our relationship with them, however long ago that was. We miss the chirpy persona, the promise of discovering something new (or cheap), the casual meeting up with mates around the CD’s on a Saturday morning or the obligatory habit of nicking something off the Pick ‘n’ Mix (Sour Cherries in my case). It may have been crap at the end, but it was our crap and we still have the memories. Woolies made it because it established a distinct personality over the years. That the management failed to capitalise on its uniqueness contributed of its downfall.
A similar sense of loss occurred when Safeway got quashed. Once the UK pioneer of US supermarketing, Safeway were years ahead of Tesco and as such
projected modernity and a personality brushed with a whiff of glamour. Look what we have in it’s place – Morrison’s, as devoid of personality as its
aseptic stores. Without a character that we can relate to, there are some brands that will never win a place in our affections, however loud the false bell of nostalgia may seem to chime.

Prince Philip & Smith & Milton

Those who know Smith & Milton will be aware of its checkered history, the highs and lows, yet above all its ability to remain as enduring as the design it has created for countless brands. But to many, the world in which Smith & Milton live is generally transient, ephemeral and largely difficult to endow with any true sense of worth when explaining what we do, at smart dinner parties.
We have always put this down to the fact that we just simply do “everyday stuff” and while important to the companies we service, as a life’s achievement it doesn’t really compare to making some critical medical breakthrough or championing the less fortunate.
So it was a huge and flattering surprise for Jay and I to find ourselves nominated for this years Prince Philip Designer’s Prize.
As a title it sounds grand enough, Buckingham Palace as a venue for the judging and the award event itself will also be a treat, but it is criterion set for the award itself that is the most warming. . . “Prince Philip Designers Prize, awarded annually to recognize a lifetime contribution to design” say the organisers at the Design Council. Match that to past honoured winners which include grandees of British design James Dyson (1997), Terence Conran (2003), Norman Foster (2004) – and the whole thing is a rather humbling accolade.

Of course Jay and I don’t really expect to win, being are up against household names like Jeff Banks and Wayne Hemingway plus our old mentor Michael Peters who would make a worthy recipient. But for once the old English sporting adage of ‘it’s not the winning, but the taking part’ really strikes some resonance.
Eitherway it is a wonderful excuse to go shopping as I know my girls are already planning their Palace party pieces.

So I want to personally thank the Design Business Association for putting our names forward, they who acknowledged that our work lives in a hard commercial world and eschews the fluff and frippery too readily associated with transient ‘graphics’. We will do our best.

www.designcouncil.org.uk/en/Design-Council/Files/Landing-pages/Prince-Philip-Designers-Prize/