22 | Products, products ...
and why most brands can't tell stories around them.
It was a scroll-stopping video on Instagram and it was a dance video, of all things. But I scrolled back because there was something familiar about the red and the blue in the background and, oh, there we go, it’s another Red Bull video that upends expectation. Not a trials bike rider on a Prada-branded train this time, or a slackliner crossing the straits of Gibraltar, but a dancer in a cypher moving with sheer, body-defying elegance to one of those haunting Yann Tiersen piano melodies (I became the 70,394th like)
A few days earlier, I’d seen FKA twigs, the British musician and choreographer, in an On Running campaign, dancing in some of those bubbly cloud shoes. And the contrast to this video struck me immediately: On taps FKA twigs for a campaign with hopes of accessing her authenticity and audience, Red Bull creates a dance event that elevates an entire community.
This felt like the difference between short-term and long-term brand thinking; between a brand that tries to insert itself into culture, and one that contributes to building culture. I have no idea what other collaborations On’s lifestyle team has dreamed up, but the road ahead won’t be easy (as their awkward partnership with Zendaya seems to reveal). The Swiss brand’s story is in its innovative product, something it proved when its new Lightspray running shoe — and futuristic, robotic assembly process — made global waves shortly before the Olympics.
If the Greek Chorus of marketing experts have coalesced around one thing lately, it’s the importance in brands leading with product, not culture, in winning the fractured digital marketplace. Doc Martens, suffering from flagging sales in the United States, said its brand strategy next year would focus not on their music aspirations, or festival activations, but on their iconic boots.
Apple, of course, has long believed this, spinning up a big to-do every Fall when a new iPhone gets introduced to the world by an invariably sporty looking evangelist executive team touting incremental camera improvements and software updates.
But those two brands have an advantage over many others: a product already steeped in culture. It took decades to build that up. There was less noise to cut through back then, as well. It’s why we still talk about Apple’s 1984 ad, or can easily image Doc Martens on the feet of any number of cultural heroes, from Sid Vicious to Will Smith to Tyler, the Creator.
The companies that stand to benefit right now are the ones that have put in the work to build a brand universe, and can now let others tell the story of their products on TikTok, Instagram, or YouTube. But a decades-long presence isn’t essential. There are other brands out there that do this. They show, don’t tell. They focus on design and craft to the point where the products speak for themselves. Here, a couple of them.
The Row 🪡 In the American public eye since their gap-toothed grins debuted on Full House, the Olsen twins made quick work of child stardom. It’s astonishing how savvy their moves were. They spun up an entire merchandising and movie-making empire that covered their toddler years into their tweens, teens, and beyond. Looking to solve the problem of making a decent t-shirt in 2006 (a noble endeavor), they created The Row, and promptly disappeared behind it. The fashion kudos came early and quickly, even if the logo hasn’t. Aside from moody, arthouse infused socials (with occasional clothes) and calculated collaborations, The Row’s storytelling is as minimalistic as its silhouettes. And that’s the strength they possess in an always-on digital retail environment that feels like an overrun souk. The Olsen twins went from being the products that created a brand universe to crafting an entirely different universe whose only stars are its premium, luxury clothes. In doing so, they tore more than a few pages out of the luxury playbook. There are no brand ambassadors, just a focus on the fabrics, attention to detail, and discreet design philosophy (and high prices: the t-shirts start at €380). As such there’s no inherent tension between the brand’s personality and the people it chooses to represent it. Friend-of-the-letter Damian Bradfield would call this sprezzatura, the Italian noun that describes the hard work that goes into looking so effortlessly graceful. Make the clothes, and let the people who can afford them become the storytellers (and not in a shouty TikTok way). A brand like this gains traction quickly because of the child stars behind it. The way it stays in our heads is by being everything the Olsen twins media empire wasn’t: premium, elusive, mysterious. Talk about turning an origin narrative on its head.
Teenage Engineering 🎹 Like The Row, the Swedish company’s story begins with founder Jesper Kouthoofd trying to answer a question. In his case, why personal electronics had become so monolithic and stopped being fun. Their line of 80s reminiscent products range from a pocket synthesizer (their first product), to a field recording device, an incredible set of “choir” speakers (photo above), and more broadly accessible speakers and headphones. As such their customers are everyone from the tech savvy to those that love beautiful, unexpected design — and their brand reflects that. There is little storytelling beyond the products, which makes sense since the obsession over design, and the fun, quirky elements that result from that are compelling enough. The details — colorful knobs, tactile buttons, Bauhaus-inspired shapes — provide their brand differentiation better than any influencer, or activation could. The design vision is also singular: there’s collaboration between the team, which is made cohesive through Kouthoofd’s heavy-handed influence (the Swede was also a co-founder of the fashion label Acne). There’s most definitely no user testing. Watch his hilarious design discussion with the boyish Figma CEO earlier this year, where Kouthoofd drops gems on building company culture through randoms that knock on his door, and talks about his “single brain” approach, all delivered with blunt Swedish nonchalance. The products do the trick. Enter “Teenage Engineering” in the search bar and the first page of YouTube videos is made up entirely of enthusiastic reviews. They’ve done collaborations with none other than IKEA, but you don’t get the feeling they needed to. And I’m sure their legions of devoted fans (a lot of their products sell out) hated all the newfound attention it brought to the brand.