Some of you may have noticed that the ads I call “ordinary” are hardly the dullest of what accosts us on a daily basis. Nor are the “extraordinary” ones surefire tickets to a seat next to David Abbott in advertising’s Valhalla. If I looked only for the former, it would be like shooting ducks in a bucket. And if I insisted on the latter, I could go months without posting anything (perish the thought).
Instead, I look for ads that appear to have had a modicum of good intentions that translated into something noteworthy or not worthy, as the case may be. And I especially keep an eye out for campaigns where one ad clearly made the grade and the other didn’t because that’s where the distinctions are most obvious. Which is what we have here today.
Overall, this is a nicely done, fairly contemporary-looking effort for a brand of pants that’s quite old hat. The look is attractive, clean and possessing some memorable touches. I appreciate the unfussy product shot. And the typography is clean, classic and eminently readable.
Unfortunately, it’s in the reading that one of the two goes off the rails. “Stuff ten pounds…” cleverly articulates a product benefit. Whereas “Pocket pool…” is a paragon of puerility which manages to conjure up the image of a pair of slacks that can not only accommodate both my hands and a leg of lamb, but also permit a range of motion only likely to be needed if the wearer has been away from home for a very, very long time. (And to make matters worse, the two “balls” in the ad are numbered in such a way as to send shivers down the spine of anyone with thoughts of one day swimming upstream to spawn.)
All of which could be dismissed with a cursory “So what? One ad’s good and the other isn’t. That’s the nature of campaigns.” line of thinking. But not so fast. Because the first ad in this campaign that I happened to stumble across was the “Pool” one, from which I immediately recoiled. And were I not searching for matched pairs like this, I might well have just gone skipping past the “Stuff” one. Just as I do with the Ketel One campaign, which may have an extraordinary ad somewhere in that risible campaign (although I seriously doubt it).
The ads that make up an extraordinary campaign set the bar at a certain height. Other ads in the campaign can top it or barely clear it. But if one falls considerably below that bar, it’s not good. Something best expressed in a statement attributed to Ed McCabe (a guy who does have a seat in advertising’s Valhalla). Asked by the people he was starting his agency with what the agency’s philosophy was, McCabe responded: “Let’s not have a philosophy. Let’s just have a standard.”
Said the estimable Nathan Orbach, head of the Orbach’s department store, to the even more estimable Bill Bernbach, a man who needs no introduction: “I got a great gimmick. Let’s tell the truth.” It seemed to work. These ads, good as they are, make getting to the truth too much work. Particularly “pocket pool.” Gimme a break!
Once again- the ads under the microscope are by Crispin Porter & Bogusky- continuing the fallacy that there is only one agency worth discussion on the web.
Hate to say it- but, I went into a Hagar outlet for the first time and spent real money a few months ago.
The only ads I’d seen (or paid attention to) were the infamous “Dog Crap” viral spot- and the ones that went with it.
Once I checked out the clothes- I found that they were inexpensive, not bad looking- and made just right for my middle aged paunch.
Somehow- Cripsin managed to make a customer out of me- and that’s not that easy to do. I’d say the campaign is better than anything else I’ve seen in the category- esp. the over produced, theatrical work for Levi’s. Yes it’s funny- no, it didn’t make me more interested in the brand- or want to wear Levi’s.
Of course- I can’t read the body copy in your samples- but- from the look- and the headlines- I’m ok with it saying Haggar on the label of my jeans right now.
I’m guessing there was a “The Haggar man likes to know that he can adjust himself if need be” insight. And the pocket pool reference was one, maybe-not-so-interesting way to get us to that thought.