"Jess & Elliot" Google Chrome

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w1sT7QV8nfU

Crying is not my thing. My roommates, friends and family have always commented on my lack of crying during times when most people and/or teenage girls definitely cry. Once, in high school, I was watching Marley & Me with my best friend and then boyfriend, both of whom sobbed a majority of the movie while I did not shed a tear - both questioned my humanity. Recently, I found out i had two stress fractures and could not run the marathon I had been training for, once again no tears came. Oddly enough, the only guaranteed method to make me cry is usually some sort of historical documentary surrounding one of two things; World War II or the Civil Rights Movement. Also, a PBS production called Downton Abbey, centered around the trials and tribulations of an English estate and the family owning it during WWI (those historically accurate tales always get me). However, this advertisement for Google Chrome of all things, defied the odds and got me extremely teary eyed.

Featuring a college freshmen, Jess, and her father Elliot, the ad documents their interaction through the year. While this is touching enough on its own, it is also made known that Jess's mother is deceased, and gives the impression that this is the first time the father/daughter duo of Jess and Elliot have had to separate. Somehow, in 61 seconds, this ad addresses the pain of losing a parent, the loneliness that can be ones freshmen year (or any year, for that matter) of college, introducing your father to your new boyfriend and the all too familiar yet uniquely "college" feeling of limbo between being homesick and dreading change to feeling like you have finally found your niche/best four years of your life.

Maybe this ad hit so close to home for me because I have an extremely close relationship to my dad, or because I am in college, or because I am possibly going to be living across the country next year (gulp), but Google was certainly successful in demonstrating the power of the internet in our lives, on a deeply emotional level.

All Publicity Is Good Publicity

                                                    "THE ONLY BANK ON CAMPUS"

This phrase is printed in plain, white letters on a blue banner hanging above U.S. Bank in the Alumni Memorial Union. The first time I saw it, I honestly chuckled a bit... is claiming you are the only bank on campus really saying anything about your service or product? To me, it seemed that all it was "you have no other choice, so use us." For some reason, this simple banner stuck with me the rest of the day, and I began wondering if this was a case of any publicity being good publicity. Though it usually refers to people, especially celebrities, why couldn't it refer to a bank chain? I really see two ways of looking at this ad, one option being that the advertising department was just not feeling creative and decided to point out the obvious. The other being that, though it is apparent that this banner says absolutely nothing about U.S Bank or the services they provide, it is still true that they are the only bank on campus, so why not capitalize on it? 

While most Marquette students are all too aware that U.S Bank is, in fact, the ONLY bank on campus, it still seems to me that advertising it is giving off the impression that the bank may know it is not the best, but it is our only option so we will come anyway. A more positive advertisement, I believe, would be more effective in drawing in the few students who do not have accounts there than simply pointing out the obvious. 

You Can Judge a Book by It's Cover

My bookshelf is my most prized possession. As a bibliophile and future (hopefully) archivist, I pay attention to books wherever I go.  Though, usually, I try not to judge books by their covers, it happens from time to time - there is just something so enjoyable to me about an aesthetically pleasing bookshelf. This summer I had two reading oriented goals, the first of which being to read as many "classics" as I could. During one of my Amazon "window" shopping spree, whilst looking for an inexpensive copy of Pride and Prejudice,  I came across Penguin's reprinted classics, all of which have unique, patterned covers. After viewing the collection, I became obsessed; the pastel colors, antique designs, hard covers and all over vintage feel had me hooked. I needed them, all of them. After receiving one for my birthday from a friend and one for Christmas, both from friends whom had said that when they saw it, they bought of me immediately (apparently these books are"so Emily"), I began to realize that the simple book cover was certainly a sort of "brand".  Penguin would not have reprinted classics, which are readily available everywhere, if they did not think they would make money off of them. But who exactly are they targeting? The colors and designs, though by no means juvenile, certainly don't scream grandmother either. They are sold at stores like Anthropologie and seem to be mostly purchased by twentysomthing women.

So why would I buy these books over a two dollar copy of Wuthering Heights at a local bookstore? They definitely present an image, and it is an image I like, whatever that image may be.  It hadn't occurred to me that something as simple as a book cover could present such a distinct image, much less make money., and I certainly hadn't thought of them as a way of branding.

"It's Shandy Season"

As a history major, I have to admit my attention is typically not on advertisements/marketing/public relations etc. When walking on the street, I tend to pay more attention to dates on the side of buildings and any signs of historic architecture. A constant subject of good natured ridicule amongst my friends,  I can't tell you how many times I have heard "You are the only person who would notice that"' in reference to my pointing out of some vintage piece of furniture/rug/tea kettle etc. etc.  I was doing just this after a movie at the Oriental with my roommates when I spotted this advertisement above New Trier on the Eastside.  It was one of those perfect Wisconsin summer nights, the kind where the air has a sense of excitement and somehow creates a time machine in which one is transported back to every warm, starry and mischievous summer night they have had. Maybe it was my current intoxication of nostalgia, but I saw this billboard and immediately said to my roommate "That is what I want to be doing right now, everything about that is where I want to be." Somehow a fairly simple billboard, advertising a beer I am not even especially fond of, made me long for cabin trips with my high school friends like I had never longed before.

As I thought about it, I think the reason this particular advertisement struck such a chord is simple.  And by that, I mean the answer is actually in the simplicity of the ad.  Who doesn't have memories that include a relaxing lake, a canoe and friends (if there was alcohol involved does not even necessarily matter)? These memories, for me at least, bring me back to a simpler time (because the life of a college kid is just so, so complicated) when I had all the time in the world to spend with my friends, tipping over each others canoes and having canon ball contests.  Even the red canoe in the ad holds a soft spot in my heart, for my family has our very own red canoe and some of my earliest childhood memories take place in it. Even the slogan under "It's Shandy Season", which reads "Come Join Us Out Here" evokes a sense of camaraderie, like the makers of Summer Shandy are old friends waiting for you to towel off and come going them for dinner and night games.

To me, this ad is summer. Simple, sweet, sunny summer.

(I actually just told my roommate about how I am officially a blogger now, and mentioned how I was writing about the ad we saw that one time after leaving the Oriental. She informed me that she noticed the other day "they actually took that ad down, I guess summer is really over." Safe to say, it had an impact on more than just myself.)