Credit crunch essentials

In the aftermath of Barack Obama’s dizzying ascent to the Oval Office, one election story refuses to go away: just what is the vanquished Sarah Palin going to do now?  We’re not talking about whether she intends to run again in 2012.  Nor are we wondering if she’ll have to step down from her Alaskan throne in the residual wake of ‘Troopergate’.  What we really want to know is, what’s going to happen to all the couture that found its way onto her shoulders during the campaign?  Glancing through online photo galleries of the ‘before’ Palin, all denim shirts and shapeless sweaters, it’s a long way back down to earth.  And, let’s face it; once you’ve flown first class, going back to economy can be a bit depressing.

Many women are facing a similar, albeit smaller scale dilemma at the moment.  As the high street steels itself for an austere Christmas, female consumers are deciding which of their regular purchases is essential and which might be sacrificed.  In this context, it might surprise a few people to learn that sales of things like lipstick have, rather than fallen, gone through the roof.  A bit of glamour, it would appear, is very much a modern day essential.  Ladies, it seems, need to look good to feel good, and God knows we all need a bit of cheering up at the moment.

Of course, the flip side to this idea is actually slightly depressing in itself.  Are us women really so shallow that a bit of lippy is enough to raise our spirits?  While, in plenty of cases, the answer is a dispiriting ‘yes’, it also begs the question, what kind of society have we made for ourselves?  A rash of women suddenly taking to the streets free of make-up is pretty much impossible to contemplate.  Make-up is social acceptance; it’s a comfort blanket, a mask, a way of reassuring yourself that you’re ready for the outside world.

Greed

You know, there are some nice, responsible, thoughtful people who work for banks.  Well, I know there are anyway because I’ve met some of them.  But reading the papers you’d hardly think so.  Aside from a flicker of sympathy for those sloping sullenly out of their offices with their cardboard boxes and limp desk plants, coverage of the banking crisis has focused on one thing and one thing only: the irresponsible, greedy people who supposedly got us into this mess in the first place.  But who are these feckless folk?

I was reminded of this the other day when a friend was moaning about a speeding fine.  He’d been caught by a camera on the A2, doing 60 in a 50 limit, and was very unhappy about the injustice of it all.  How could he be expected to pay attention to the big signs that said ‘50’?  How could he have seen the ones warning about the speed cameras?  Or, for that matter, how could he have spotted the cameras themselves, with their yellow luminous paint, and lines drawn in the road?  Clearly, it was all someone else’s fault.  Just like the mess in which we find ourselves now.

You see, by my reckoning, a very large area of the quicksand pit in which we currently wallow was filled by us.  Sure the bankers may have been a bit reckless; yes they may have gambled with our livelihoods and homes; fine, perhaps they could have reined in the Christmas bonuses and bought less stuff.  But fundamentally, a very large number of us have been a bit silly.  Or at least, we’ve all got a bit greedy.  Like the friend of mine in a hurry to get to Dover, we’ve ignored the warnings and tried to get ahead of ourselves – bigger, better, faster, stronger, and hang the cost.  Well, now we face the consequences together.  I’m not saying that the recession is down to every single one of us, but maybe the new era of austerity will force a long overdue rethink of the way we live our lives.

For marketers, this presents an interesting conundrum.  Essentially we’ve always sought to coax people’s pounds from their pockets with little regard for whether those people should be spending.  We’ve urged consumers not to put off until tomorrow when they could buy today, and they’ve taken our advice.  Should we have been a bit more careful, a little more responsible?  Or should they have been?

If this downturn/recession/second great depression has one positive result, perhaps it will be the ushering-in of a new age of accountability and honesty for everyone.  Maybe we are about to enter an age of straight talking and apposite action.  If all of us acted with a little more prudence and forethought, as well as a bit more honesty, perhaps the world really would be a better place for it.

Who do you trust?

Any direct marketers for Glamping?

Something direct marketers always hold with pride is our ability isolate people’s unique foibles and carefully tailor the way we speak to them.  Not only that, as creative types, we’re absolutely confident that we in the industry are, to paraphrase the Life of Brian, also all individuals.

I was reminded of this the other weekend when I decided to dip my toe into the world of Glamping.  For those of you who’ve missed the phenomenon, Glamping refers to something a little like camping, but imbued with rather more sophistication and creature comforts.  If you like the idea of enjoying nature’s charms at closer proximity, but the thought of ground sheets, tent-poles and, crucially, sharing a chemical toilet with lots of strangers fills you with fear, Glamping is for you.  Pre-built tents, nice wooden sleeping quarters, a loo and a stove, it’s more Waltons than Worthy Farm.

Having roped my colleague Mel and her family into the trip, we set off, pleased at how cleverly and inventively we’d arrived at such an original idea.  Only when we reached the outskirts of Featherdown Farm (Wiltshire, probably lovely when it isn’t raining) and joined a convoy of Volvo XC90s picking their way along the country lanes did I realise how wrong I was.  When we arrived at the site, things got slightly more bizarre.  Emerging from their 4x4, squinting through the sheeting rain, came Mel and husband Ian, head of direct and digital at Billington Cartmel; they were joined by Gavin Wheeler of WDMP and his family, and of course me and mine.  I learned later over a glass of wine with a friend, who happens to be the head of DM at John Lewis, that she also experienced Glamping the following weekend.  I’m not sure if she has a Volvo XC90, but wouldn’t rule it out.

In spite of the weather, we all had a lovely time.  The farmer takes you around on his tractor-trailer; you can feed the cows and, somewhat appropriately, herd the sheep.  And then we all drove home in our XC90s.

All of which got me thinking: perhaps, amid all our efforts to personalise and segment people, we should also think more carefully about bringing people together – thankfully, with social networks, building online tribes is an easier task. Even if we are, so demonstrably, all individuals.  Especially in the direct industry.