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As American as tarte aux pomme
(…or what are GM and their new ad firm thinking?)
Growing up in southern Connecticut, we couldn’t drive our shiny two-tone Chevy Bel-Air to the levee because we only had Long Island Sound and a beach. And even though I’d really wanted an Olds (that would be Oldsmobile, what the slightly better-off Jews drove… those that couldn’t afford a Caddy—that would be Cadillac), I was thrilled that I’d exerted sufficient pressure on my frugal father to spring for the extra trim package, so we wouldn’t look too down-and-out.
Even to my seven year-old self, many decades before the era of “personal brand,” brands had real meaning: they participated in defining who you were and signaled your place in the cosmos. The stream of GM cars leaving Temple Israel on a Saturday morning spelled out the social hierarchy in the town very clearly.
And for those really tuned in (me), the nuances mattered, too: an Olds ‘98’ bested an ‘88’ and our Bel Air was certainly trumped by an Impala. (Of course, you’d never see a Buick; you’d have to check out the Congregational Church lot for that. And the Catholic Church lot for Pontiacs and the odd DeSoto.)
While all of us in the brand-building business have our own methodologies to help our clients establish and manage brands to advance organizational goals, we all agree on one principle: while brands can be defined in the boardroom (or in your latest ad agency’s swank conference room), they don’t exist until they are internalized by your key constituencies. Even better, if you can build an emotional connection.
And what could be a surer sign that a brand has been internalized (and given a place in one’s heart) than to embrace a brand by its nickname? “Chevy.” Even better, if you’re in the brand business: a name that rolls off the tongue, has only two syllables, isn’t confused with the competition, and, even through decades of active mis-management, is not freighted with hard-to-shed baggage.
So what are GM and its new ad agency thinking––and writing––by laying down the law that thou shalt not nick-name? And to cite “Coke” as an example of brand consistency… they have that for sure, but hey, last time I was in Atlanta, it was still Coca-Cola and no one, even in the 80s, was snorting anything that could have been confused with Chevy.
Is new management at GM trying to manage the brand to be more formal? Are they trying to impose distance between the brand and its loyalists? Do they think another syllable adds value to the product? Are they trying to evoke the legacy of Louis Chevrolet? Are they trying to attract those of French extraction? (They do say a driving force behind the new policy is the desire to build brand overseas.) Do they want to teach schoolchildren how to pronounce a final “et”? Did they not read the memo after Tropicana took the straw out of the orange and repackaged our breakfast sustenance to be more Swiss—and then had to recant?
There is a lot that GM can do to bolster the Chevrolet brand—starting with the trickle of not-me-too products that are reversing four decades of shared platform, change-the-trim-and-the-price brand and product management. But seeking to move a brand farther from the hearts and minds of those whose enthusiasm and support are critical for success doesn’t seem overly smart.
GM would do better to take a page (just one) from Chrysler’s playbook: they realized that the equity in Dodge trucks was in Dodge “Ram” trucks (with or without the storied “Hemi” under the hood), and have moved to brand their trucks just “Ram”—elevating the brute force attributes of the product. Not consistent with historic brand standards perhaps, but certainly smart: build on the connection you have, what resonates. It costs less and nets more.
We’ll see if GM persists in taking that slice of good ole American pie off our plates—or not.
Categories Branding, Outside the Square, Strategy and Management
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I pretty surprised about this change in branding myself. It’s in our culture to say Chevy (what else would we drive to the levee?). I remember a little ditty we learned in elementary school to teach us rhythm patterns–it went like this: “Lambourghini, Maserati, Volkswagon, Chevy Truck.” And you don’t think of their trucks as Chevrolets. They are absolutely Chevy trucks.
At a point where foreign cars are getting a hard look from consumers (hello Toyota!) I would think that they would want to reinforce that name, Chevy that is so American. You’re right, the full Chevrolet sounds foreign. It’s fancy, elaborate–which is why Ramona Quimby named her doll that. It’s not a name that says “Study dependable auto”
If you read a little farther in that memo, it states that when addressing your fellow employees, you must address them by their full first name. William must be used instead of Bill, Victoria instead of Vicky, Mortimer instead of Mort.
What we have here is verification that the Peter Principle exists.
What I find so surprising about this move is that it says, in effect, “Stop thinking about us the way you do…and always have.” I assume, perhaps incorrectly, that “Chevy” is a nickname that arose *not* from Chevy itself, but from its fans.
To deny the use of that name now seems to imply, by extension, that Chevrolet doesn’t want its fans to call it “Chevy,” either–a move that is not only unrealistic (they can’t control what their fans call them), but potentially alienating for all the reasons you describe.
[...] So why did they choose to do this (in direct contrast to Chevrolet’s move a few weeks back)? [...]