OH WHAT A FEELING!

There’s something not quite right with messaging.

[Don’t get your hackles up, please.  We’re not maligning words or choices or their arrangements.]

In every map, every grid, every page in which we capture the essence of a business, it falls flat.  Sure, we can add emotional words, even exclamation marks (though save us from too many).  Yet the story is somehow lacking.  Words alone aren’t working … at least, for us.

Of late, we’ve been applying an idea from the design world.  Which is, the creation of mood boards, once assembled from a bunch of oversized, colorful magazines, even photography books.  With a glue stick, scissors and a generous foam core board, a collage develops that reflects themes and a vague essence of feeling.  Interior designers, artists, creative directors, fashion folks use these liberally; in fact, they guard the completed boards with their lives, keeping them ultra-confidential until the project has been revealed. 

So what stops us – communicators and branding experts – from starting our stories this way?  It connects the heart and the brain.  It helps coordinate a corporate tale.  And it quickly lets others know exactly where we’re going.  Yup, a series of pictures (yes, with words) relates the beginning and middle and ongoing events that make up a business’ life.

No Moody blues, here. 

PRETTY IS, PRETTY DOES

No, we’re not sexists or anti-feminists.  [Though we do remember all too well the slogan that prompted our headline.]

Our musings this day go to packaging, and why we pay attention to certain things, not others.  The food industry has it made:  They know, for instance, that 64 percent of U.S. consumers buy products from shelves because of packaging.  Drilling deeper, shoppers grab first by color, then by shape, followed by symbols and words.  Even more, the fascination with small versions in re-sealable bags and single-serving multipacks has proven to entice buyers who typically bag 50 items in the same number of minutes in supermarkets.

Overall, much attention is being paid to the Pretty Factor, a phenomenon attributed to Apple (among others).  All aspects of containers matter, whether that’s shape or color, graphics or labeling.

Why, then, do we as communicators, designers, and even marketers tend to ignore the look of the information we send inside and out, to staff, to consumers, to regulators and politicians?  [Omit, if you would, the annual report, the intranet, open enrollment, et al. which historically strut their stuff.]  So:  We’re talking emails, memos, reports, HR information, service and product letters, warranties … the standard stuff that usually gets slapped on a masthead and distributed.  The writing may be catchy and succinct; the message, clear and unadulterated.  Somehow you gotta know that at least 25 percent of recipients will (check one) 1) file it for e-review on a rainy day, 2) toss it in the stack of ‘to-reads’ on a desktop, 3) send it to a colleague with comments or questions, or 4) discard it altogether. 

Compellingness extends, in our opinion, to everything we produce.  Why not help way-overloaded staff who simply don’t have the time to scan their in-boxes … and label (with icons and illustrations) the nice to know, must know, must do items?  Or:  Design an instructions memo typographically, with steps laid out in bold print, no mouse type?  And:  Consider read-able alternatives to the thank you for your response consumer note – a postcard, a note card, even an animated email instead of plain-Jane look and lengthy text?

Pretty-ness, obviously, must be more than skin-deep; user experience work has taught us that much.  [As has life experience.]  What’s your take, dear reader?

WHAT WE LEARNED FROM RETAIL NAVIGATING

 ‘Tis the season for merchandising.

Everywhere, offline and online, retailers are ready for the Black Friday/Cyber Monday onslaught.  In addition to marketing the right products at right prices, stores have figured out their flows … and we don’t mean in the Zen sense.

Since nearly 90 percent of the world’s population is right-handed (and right-footed), carefully designed store trails lead shoppers to turn right, face an aspirational lifestyle display, then continue at 45 degree angles to find stuff.  Wide aisles invite us to walk quickly to our destination; narrow, encourage browsing.  [And clogged?   No one we know would stay long in that store.]  And a well-lit back of the store offers chances for leisurely looking – and much higher price tags.

Other retail strategies are well documented.  Like the shrewd placement of impulse buys (the trendier tchotkes) at the cash register or front counter.  Or attractive window displays with our fave four-letter word … that would be “sale.”  And most definitely, salespeople with smiles who do not ask “how can I help you?”

Holidays are, truly, the best times to be studying retail.  More than random facts and figures, though, are the learnings to be reaped.  Especially for communicators and designers who need to capture the same sort of attention insiders and outsiders lavish on gift-giving and the spirit.

For one, think hard about the paths you provide folks to find your content:  Not too open, not too closed.  Wide aisles, in our universe, equate to a lack of detail and description.  Whereas, narrow  walkways, targeted to the right populaces, will lead to the appropriate info … and rewards.

Two:  Cue ‘em.  Visuals at every point in the journey lure, supplying audiences the crumbs needed to pursue content or collaboration or activities.  [Most of us, when faced with unfamiliarity, prefer clear directions.]

Third (and, yes, there’s more … we’ll beg you to continue this analogy) is understanding our audiences’ EQs enough to not hover, to not fawn, to not be obsequious, but to instead offer guidance and advice while all are finding their ways.

And yes, all good excuses for our continuing to practice visual (and retail) therapy.