Royalty Is Where You Find It.

Mention the word “copycat,” and HQ’s ears prick, especially when the subject is about finding royal couple lookalikes.

The Associated Press reports that model agencies are looking for young adults who can double as Prince William and future princess Kate Bevan. Appears the couple’s upcoming nuptials have spiked a demand for their body doubles to appear at special events, either together or with other fake, royal-family members.

Copy-Kates have been relatively easy to find. But it’s the search for a proper fake William that has agencies in a royal tizzy. Not only do very few young men have William's “chubby cheeks, toothy grin and thinning hair,” but they also don’t have his elusive royal quality.

An acting coach explains that William’s lifetime of privilege is difficult to mimic. “It’s more of an aura. It’s a product of 28 years of his upbringing.”

Adds an agency manager, “This sounds terrible to say, but perhaps it’s all about good breeding.”

Good breeding, indeed. What a noble viewpoint.

Perhaps the manager's notion of how a prince should carry himself is based on a childhood Cinderella book. How does she let a hopeful William-lookalike down easy? Does she send him to the lab for a blue blood test, knowing he won’t pass? Does she remind him that breeding is a way to produce offspring in a controlled and organized way, and that she doesn’t want to waste time barking up the wrong family tree?

There’s that mind's-eye, perception-is-reality thing again, and we all know that reality is where you find it.

But so is royalty -- even in a Tropaeolum majus.

Sex, Religion, Politics And Tequila.

For starters, the bar customers weren’t interested in polite conversation. They were slinging shots, verbal and liquid, and no one was ducking.

It all started when a woman who looked like she drank a pint of vodka a day said “tequila is tequila.”

Before you could say Pope Benedict, the conversation switched from Palin to Patrón.

It wasn’t pretty. Voices rose.

“You don’t know the soul of a real margarita.”

“You wouldn’t know agave from Mondavi.”

"I’ve got your Sauza right here.”

Suddenly, nine relatively quiet people and one bartender turned into 10 self-anointed brand experts. This is what liquor makers live for. It’s why they spend millions trying to integrate their brand benefits into our emotional matrixes. Despite their efforts, millions of consumers will remain brand renegades (tequila is tequila). But millions more embrace brands because they say something about themselves.

Next time you’re at a bar, ask for Caliber Premium Tequila. If you get a blank look, mention it’s sold at Wal-mart in plastic bottles.

Or, ask for Cuervo Reserva Antigua 1800 Añejo and watch strangers size you up and possibly decide you’re someone they want to hang out with.

The language of emotion is what companies should really be listening to when examining their brands. Products aren’t important. Stories are.

“No way, man. You’re confusing Jose Cuervo with Don Julio!”

We’ll save the salt and lime debate for another day.

Seagulls Not Born To Be Wide Receivers.

Turtle Beach, Dec. 31, 2010. Two teenagers are “playing football” with seagulls. They throw rocks and shells up into the air. Gulls dive. Boys laugh. Fun to fool birds who think shells are pieces of bread.

Fun to then hit them with football.

Harlequin Cat wishes for a kinder new year.

If You Can Crowdsource A Logo Design, You Can Crowdsource A Job Assignment, Right?

I just read a blog in MediaPost about the “Roar of Crowdsourcing,” where Thom Forbes recalls how GAP unveiled its new logo, only to fold it back up and return to its decades-old original design.

“Crowd wisdom” ruled, with a GAP spokesperson writing, “We’ve learned just how much energy there is around our brand, and after much thought, we’ve decided to go back to our iconic blue box logo.”

But GAP didn’t close the door completely.

On its Facebook page, the retailer extends this generous invitation: “We know this logo created a lot of buzz and we’re thrilled to see passionate debates unfolding! So much so that we’re asking you to share your designs. We love our version, but we’d like to see other ideas.”

That’s right. “We’d like to see other ideas."

Excuse me, GAP, but do you have a budget in mind?

No wonder we’re seeing more companies ask for free advice on Facebook, Twitter and LinkedIn.

They know they can get it.

One marketing employee with a large manufacturer recently posted a request for product designs on his LinkedIn page, saying it would “help a lot” with his upcoming management meeting.

He must have given a stellar presentation.

All he had to do was assemble the answers.

Finding The Christmas Spirit.

Christmas is where you find it.

And Harlequin Cat found it here.

Hope your holidays are filled with quiet moments.

Peace.

A Man's Home Is His Sandcastle.

For four days, people from around the world strolled a shimmering white beach to view sand sculptures at the Siesta Key Crystal Classic in Sarasota, FL.

On the show’s second morning, a small crowd formed around a castle of fairy-tale proportions. An older man – tanned and wearing designer swim trunks, a gold necklace and polarized Oakleys -- peered up at the castle’s winding stairs.

Next to him, a young girl contemplated scrunching her big toe into the moat.

And just a foot away, a homeless man with caked, matted hair wondered what was going on inside the sculpted fortress. His imagination squeezed into one of the tiny windows and floated over to where his mind’s eye lingered – near a massive oak table covered with a white cloth and gold coins.

Lighted iron candlesticks revealed a sumptuous banquet.

Gleaming pewter goblets reflected faces -- of a king or a knight, a jester or troubadour?

Suddenly, a blast of trumpets. The homeless man covered his ears and dropped to his knees.

Shaking, he looked up at the sky, only to see a silvery plane bound for Milwaukee.

So much for reverie.

But for a moment, he was a prince, a prince who had a home.

How A Car Brand Can Melt Your Ice Cream.

Imagine you’re approaching an intersection where two cars are waiting side by side for the light to change. You’re in a hurry with cold groceries in your trunk. Do you pull in behind the BMW Z3 or the shiny new VW Beetle?

On the one hand, the Beetle is advertised as a “thoroughly modern take on an icon” that’s ahead of its time.

But it’s a Beetle.

On the other hand, the Z3 was replaced by the Z4 in late 2002. It’s an old model and probably has some miles on it.

But it’s a roadster. James Bond drove one in GoldenEye, remember?

You know your two quarts of ice cream are beginning to melt, so you slip in behind the Z3. The light turns green, and off speeds the Beetle, while the driver of the Z3 finishes her texting.

You just based your decision on a brand.

As you unload your milkshakes into the freezer, you berate yourself for assuming that people embody the brand virtues of the cars they drive.

But that’s what car companies are hoping for. It’s what every brand hopes for.

It’s why most of us will park next to a Mercedes-Benz thinking our doors won’t get dinged. That’s the power of a brand, even in a bad economy.