Argueably, what people say and how they use language should be the standard by which we measure it's usage. However, a cultural relativist perspective can only go so far, especially when stray errors hinder communication or when copy sounds far prettier than the actual message it suposively conveys.
Here are some of my favourites from this weekend:
At a city tourist informational venue, there signage said, "Our delicacies can be enjoyed at the many restaurants, bars, parlors, cafes, stands and eateries on the harbor." What is the difference between eateries and restaurants, bars, parlors, cafes, and stands? Sounds like the synonym game to me.
How about this one? "This city offers many exciting opportunities; especially the warmth and generosity of its people." The use of the semi-colon here fails miserably since the semi-colon requires to complete clauses for it to function properly; even a substitution with a colon would be borderline questionable, which neither in the end would engender the high sense of sophistication that obviously is desired, but rather only leave a sense of false pretension behind.
How about that run-on sentence? Done it. Lovin' it.
Good copy is extremely important. Correct, clear and concise copy is even convalescently better when you want to ensure that your message is heard. Where others fall short, CrowdConnect insures your copy against the pitfalls of some creative (ab)uses of language itself.
This is the second piece in an ongoing series on creating a cult following. For the initial article, please click here.
If the researchers are right, gay men are petulant, impatient early adopters capable of packing more energy into a decision regarding new shoes than one concerning the World Bank. Never mind that this is how we used to talk about women—men were the “wallet carriers” and perfectly permed housewives were too busy folding in Miracle Whip to care about civil rights or the Pill.
This was, of course, untrue; merely the pallor cast upon greater society by a much smaller segment. Today, the wonks are working the same crap on gay men, and I stood witness to what they worship last Saturday in New York: clubbing.
Think about it: the typical American church experience involves a fair bit of pomp and circumstance, utilizes costume to mark duty or class, engages the congregation with music, teaches a little lesson, involves women in diminutive/disciplinary/custodial roles and would not be complete without the collection of funds.
The role of costume is the most immediately apparent at a gay club: all black means staff, and all designer means club royalty; the frequenters, the court capable of denouncing you as trash or announcing your arrival as the hottie du jour. It’s all so reminiscent of high school: the cliques, the drinks, the drama.
The fag hags are like the nuns, keeping everything in line, warning their twinky charges against unseemly hookups and too many drinks. The collection basket is like the cover charge; and the lesson, the “homily” if you will, comes hard and clear for some after a few visits: it’s the same people, doing the same thing, hoping for the same thing, week after week.
Perhaps we are recreating these highly structured institutions on our own terms, which isn’t so unlike Miss Black America, Chinatown or Little Italy save for the fishnets and Madonna music. This is what marginalized minorities do, and I am inclined to say that anyone that opens a gay-centered business which mimics a traditional hierarchal social structure (as in, the kind we’re supposed to hate) will reap some serious spoils.
Actually, someone already has: Limited Brands, revivers of Abercrombie & Fitch. Can’t sit on prom court? Try my $80 jeans; go to a club and down some $10 drinks and feel better: you may make manager someday.
In times of emergency, quick, rational thought and action are key to overcoming adverse situations and restoring a reasonable semblance of order. Questions of what do I need, how do I get it and what kinds of tools are available to me in this moment jump into your head, almost subconsciously, as the adrenaline flows freely.
So today, what did I need as I found myself sitting on the curb next to my mangled bicycle on a busy Philadelphia street, after having crashed landed and slid across the gritty gravel? After checking to make sure my helmet had functioned properly, and having tested all my limbs, I made a list in roughly 2 seconds.
Effective marketing strategies helped me chose and purchase the brands that I knew and trusted, so that I would get my scrapes and body back into shape. And all this only took about half an hour, from purchase to being back in the street, clean and ready to go. I didn't need to think--Should I go for Safeguard or Dial, or what are the other antibiotic soaps out there? What's the difference between Polysporin and Neosporin (not much) and which is more useful to me right now? Why do I need to get two t-shirts to replace just the one I ruined? All these questions already had "right" and "useful" answers. Sure, we may not all recognize the same brands or think CVS instead of Rite Aid. The point is that generic products already have trusted branded names and those names are what people remember and know.
Marketing isn't just about getting people to buy your product. It's about having the foresight to educate people about why they need your product, even if they don't need it right now. The established empathetic trust engages in these "emergency" moments; you do know exactly what to do to prevent an infection: CVS, Safeguard, Polysporin and so forth.
And as I lay here icing the bruise on my hip, all I can think about is how I can get the City of Philadelphia to actually take care of their road system, so that a freak ripple in the street doesn't send every bike rider over the handle bars. What do I need now?