Of sticky logos and octopi.

Recently, SG was tasked with creating a fresh new identity for an established Wichita church. The client required a new logo that would support the new, unified direction in which the church was heading. Before coming to us, the church struggled with numerous, disconnected subministry identities and a logo that had morphed into a hybrid version of its original design.

Old, hybrid logo

To ensure that leaders’ voices were heard and opinions counted, we hosted a two-hour, guided ideation session. At the completion of the ideation, we knew that we needed to create an identity that was attractive to a younger crowd, while paying respect to and not offending an older audience.

We launched the logo design process. After a number of sketch rounds, we arrived at a logo that was both strongly progressive and rooted in tradition. By combining hand-lettered, modern type with the historic Celtic cross, we were able to create a look that appealed to a wide age spectrum.

New Logo

Our work, however, was not done. We needed to devise a strategy that incorporated 17 distinct subministries into the at-large identity.

This might sound like a strange analogy, but this church identity needed to become a swimming octopus—I know, bear with me. The church’s many subminstries needed to become the tentacles and the logo the octopus’ head. As the octopus propels forward, the tentacles need to work in conjunction behind the head.

To create this swimming octopus, SG created a consistent format for the subministry names in combination with the logo, allowing the subministries to work with the main organizational identity rather than against it. This created a main-brand focus that allowed the smaller ministries to point back to the church’s main identity.

Subministry Logo Example OneSubministry Logo Example Two

When building an identity for an organization that is made up of smaller entities, creating a concise, consolidated logo will help you build a sleek, sticky brand—your very own swimming octopus.

What’s in your gun?

Lone Ranger MaskSilver Bullet
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia:
The metaphor of the silver bullet applies to any straightforward solution perceived to have extreme effectiveness. The phrase typically appears with an expectation that some new technology or practice will easily cure a major prevailing problem.

Read. Read. Read. Read everything. But as you begin planning for 2008, we encourage you to consider replacing the search for illusive, magic silver bullets with more practice at the range firing time-tested ammunition and developing repeatability.

The times have rendered us completely impatient. Results can’t come fast enough. Change doesn’t happen quick enough. I remember way back in the late 80s, during the total quality revolution, when we needed “change agents” to overcome inertia and we operated in frozen fear of change. Fast forward 20 years…change is everything…just look at Madonna. In contrast, The Rolling Stones have changed very little (except getting sober, maybe).

Here’s my point in this diatribe of mixed metaphor…I fear the perceived need for change and magic silver bullets has everything to do with our lack of results. We need to commit to do a few, proven things consistently this coming year, like the Stones surely have done for the past 40 plus. I believe the results will follow.

In 2008, patience will still be a virtue. And magic bullets will still be for Lone Rangers.

High-yo Silver!

There’s something terribly wrong with the heavenly bed.

We just returned from delivering our daughter to a college in South Carolina and celebrating our son’s 16th birthday at TPC Sawgrass in Jacksonville. Tasked with booking hotels for the eight nights we were away I prescribed a nice balance of mid-priced hotels with a few affordable luxury nights to prevent the travel blahs. I was especially anticipating our return to a well-known hotel flag for its heavenly bed, a sleep experience that’s built on multiple layers of mattress, bedding and pillow bliss. At 11 p.m. on our first luxe night, I called to beg the night manager to strip our bed. An unheavenly odor permeated the sheets, making sleep impossible. The next day, we were moved to another room; regrettably, the not-so-sweet scent followed us across the hall. A self-professed cleanaholic with a sharp nose, I recognized the problem. It gets really warm inside a heavenly bed, with its thick duvet and many layers of upscale linens. The duvet traps perspiration. Follow that line and you begin to conclude that hotels can’t cost effectively launder a duvet on a daily basis as it does sheets and pillow linens.

The heavenly bed points to an important discipline for strategic marketers, brand managers and CEOs: calculating what can go wrong. It’s a marvelous thing to be a person of vision, even better to see the line to the finish. But after the first flush of a new vision passes, it’s time to start the homework—to count the costs, understand the risks, study the competitive environment, jog around the whole vision with a few experts to look for both opportunities and pitfalls, and then, most important, slow to walk a mile in the brand consumer’s shoes. What is the consumer experience? What will the consumer say is great about this new vision of product or service brilliance? What will diminish his experience or worse, cause his confidence in my company to falter?

Several weeks before our not-so-heavenly bed experience, I booked two more room nights at this same hotel for an end-October visit back to South Carolina. It really is a beautiful hotel, but now I’m torn: cancel the reservation or travel with a bottle of Febreeze.

Curiously enough, this particular “pea” in my sleep experience was hinted at as early as 1749. I found this on Wikipedia when I Googled “duvet”:

“In Westphalia, an English travel-writer observed with surprise in 1749,
“There is one thing very particular to them, that they do not cover themselves with bed-cloaths, but lay one feather-bed over, and another under. This is comfortable enough in winter, but how they can bear their feather-beds over them in summer, as is generally practised, I cannot conceive.” —Thomas Nugent, The Grand Tour 1749, vol II. p66 [1]

A little respect for Tommy

What would Tommy do this weekend?

We recently participated in the creation of a new “boutique” brand with a client and a team of branding folks. For whatever reason, the facilitator made frequent snide references to one individual on the team’s apparent affinity for the Tommy Bahama brand. It bugged the heck out of me. So I offer this to cleanse my soul…

While Tommy may not define every lifestyle, I believe his is one of the true branding success stories of our time. Read Cigar Aficionado, June 2007. I wish I were a little more like Tommy.

Tommy is an innovator. He had the courage to persevere when others were blind to his vision. Today he has legions of brand loyalists and just as many wannabe imitators.

Tommy knows who he is. He was created to live a very specific life (an attainable yet aspirational life)—and even more than a life, an attitude.

Tommy is true to who he is. He doesn’t try to be more things to more people. Instead he continues to drill into his own life (always asking the question: What would Tommy want?) and take a niche market deeper into his experience.

In my mind Tommy defines “boutique” and has rightfully earned his station in a life “where the weekend never ends.”

Relax.