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.

Remember Mailboxes On A Pole?

“Grandma, what are these? They’re pretty.”

“They’re mailboxes. It’s how people used to get their letters, bills and junk mail. But now we get everything electronically. They look like lunchboxes, don’t they?”

“What’s a lunchbox?”

“A lunchbox is what kids used to pack their sandwiches in so they could take their lunch to school and not have to pay for 25%-nutritious cafeteria food.”

“Where did they put the lunchboxes … I mean, mailboxes?”

“At the end of our driveways. I remember having to walk almost 15 feet to get to ours. Sometimes I’d have to brave heavy winds and snow. If it rained, I’d get my hair wet. Winter was the worst. I’d have to put on my coat and gloves. You kids today don’t realize how lucky you have it. When I was your age, we didn’t have email. We had to lick a stamp and put it on an envelope, then lick the envelope flap to seal it shut. And that was for each letter and each bill! Then we’d have to put the flag up on the mailbox so the postman knew we had outgoing mail. But we weren’t afraid of hard work back then.”

“Gross, Grandma. I can’t imagine licking my emails. But getting a real letter that I had to open with my hands sounds kinda neat, as long as I could text back and save buying one of those little, uh ...”

"Stamps."

Before Apple, There Were Apples.

No deep meaning in my post this week, other than to say that autumn in New England is a wonderful, crispy-crunchy time of year as far as apples go.

I’m not talking about the Apple computer brand with the ubiquitous chomped logo.

I’m talking about an Ida Red, a Honey Crisp and a juicy Fuji.

A bright-red Rome, a sweet Liberty, a bold Jonagold!

Mom’s Apple Crisp, Hot Buttered Cider and Brown Sugar Apple Pie.

I have my aye on these apples.

Baby Carrots Are All Cheese-Puffed Up.

No telling how Crispin Porter + Bogusky’s “Eat ‘Em Like Junk Food” advertising campaign will boost sales of baby carrots.

But according to the Associated Press, the goal is to double the current $1 billion baby-carrot market within two to three years.

That’s a lot of carrots.

You can bet your beta-carotene that in the business of brand makeovers, it all depends on what consumers identify as smoke and mirrors.

Let’s admit it: The American carrot has some ancestral baggage – as in canned peas and carrots, beef stew with mushy carrots, and the ever-popular carrot-and-raisin salad – a mainstay of cafeteria lines because it can be conveniently served with an ice-cream scoop.

But you gotta give it to CP+B, because the whole goal here is to convince students that when they reach for a bag of baby carrots from their high-school vending machines, they'll forget they’re reaching for a bag of cheese puffs and instead think they’re eating a nutritional vegetable while getting their “junk-food fix.”

At the risk of sounding like I have a salty chip on my shoulder, I submit that a carrot by any other name is still a carrot.

Still, Harlequin Cat thinks CP+B’s campaign has some serious crunch to it and will be watching. But in the mean time, I couldn’t resist inviting you to visit http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vly7hDDHMsM

Some of us just love eating carrots naturally.

What I Didn't Do This Summer.

Did you read B.C.'s comic strip yesterday? Teacher Ant asks her class to write a “detailed essay” describing what they did this summer. Student Ant walks up with his response: “In the interest of our mutual convenience, please refer to my Facebook page.”

Harlequin Cat doesn’t have a Facebook page but doesn’t want to write an essay, either. So, a photo and a few words about my summer:

Abs, not apps.

Chirps, not Tweets.

Sea foam, not smart phone.

Surfers, not surfing.

Egg rolls, not blog rolls.

Sails, not sales.

Seed pods, not podcasts.

My space, not MySpace.

Eat, Pray, Love, Sell.

Here we go again with bandwagon marketing.

In honor of this month’s film-release version of Elizabeth Gilbert’s best-selling “Eat, Pray, Love” memoir, we have these lovely promotions to consider -- in the most spiritual way, of course:

1. From the Ritz-Carlton in Sarasota, an “Eat, Stay and Love with Dinner” special.

2. An “Eat. Pray. Fall in love with Micato Safaris” inspirational India tour starting at $19,795.

3. A “Where to Eat, Pray, Love in San Antonio” tourism promotion (wonder if this would have had any effect during the Battle of the Alamo).

4. “Eat, Pray, Love eaux de parfum – emotionally charged fragrances to be worn alone or layered together, that not only transport you to a specific destination, but also to a different state of mind" ($32 each).

5. An “Eat, Pray, Love. Read” promotion from Sony advertised on HSN: "Throughout your journey of self discovery, what better way to entertain yourself than with this revolutionary library-to-go” ($229.95).

Please be advised that Harlequin Cat is in no way responsible for the unintended marketing consequences of blogging about these "Eat, Pray, Love, Sell" promotions.

Confidentially, though, I just spotted two green anoles on the lanai and am off to eat, prey and love.

HQ

Life Before Laptops.

No vacation for Harlequin Cat this summer. But am sending you a peachy-beachy postcard anyway. Try telling these vacationers they need a mouse to surf.