Virginia Miracle

I received a letter from Marie Gray, CEO of St. John Knit at home this week.

I assumed it would be about the economy.  That’s why we hear from CEO’s these days, right?

It wasn’t.  It was a 5 paragraph letter about a major change in the staple color of the staple fabric of the classic clothing line: the black Santana knit.  For various reasons including the environmental impact of dyes, the fabric color dying process has changed over the years.   Marie Gray writes that she had noticed that recent “black” collections had a bluish cast and had migrated far too close to their navy blue color.  So, they innovated.  They created a new process that would use less water and energy and produce a truer black that will be called “Caviar”.

Why does this matter to loyal customers like me?  In short, your old stuff won’t match the new stuff.  Part of the beauty of the items is that they last forever and you can mix and match items from lines and years.  It is garanimals for grownups.  The letter mentions that all stores and consultants have been armed with swatches of old black, navy, and new caviar for people to compare for themselves and prepare for the changes.  It also reinforces St. John’s commitment to craftsmanship at a time when other brands are focused on discounting which re-reinforces why this is a brand worthy of of a weekend – as well as my loyalty and respect.  While I wont be making any big purchases any time soon, the swatch compare will drive me into the store on my next NYC trip and who knows, maybe caviar will be hard to resist.

Sparked by a recent Forrester report that corporate blogs are one of the least trusted forms of media, much has been written on the topic of corp comms in the last few days.  Here’s the chart that launched this dicussion

As this discussion is going on, Rome is burning (economically speaking).  This offers corporate blogs an amazing opportunity to use their platforms for good, not evil, and some art stepping up to the plate in a significant way.

I detailed some examples in a post yesterday to the Ogilvy 360 Digital Influence blog.  Meanwhile, my Ogilvy colleague and blogger extraordinaire was also fanning the flames over at the Influential Marketing Blog.

What do you think?  Is the Forrester-reported suckage real?  Or does the transparent social media treatment of recent unfortunate events change your mind about their value the way it has mine?

Last week, the NY Times published a great article about the leaders in the almost 2-year-in contest to create a computer algorithm that improves upon the ability of Netflix’ Cinematch engine to make accurate recommendations of what you’ll like by 10%.   Competition is hot because the prize is a whopping $1million, but the progress of all of the teams seem to be stalled based on an inability to predict how you’ll like a small handful of polarizing indie movies – most notably Napoleon Dynamite.

So, what makes indies so hard to predict?   Influence!   While recommendation engines are built on the assumption that your taste stays the same, our “tastes” are constantly morphing based on the opinions and information we hear from those around us.

“…the reality is that our cultural tastes evolve, and they change in part because we interact with others. You hear your friends gushing about “Mad Men,” so eventually — even though you have never had any particular interest in early-’60s America — you give it a try. Or you go into the video store and run into a particularly charismatic clerk who persuades you that you really, really have to give “The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou” a chance.”

Not only do your friends’ recommendations encourage trial or purchase, they also change the way you judge or take in the information.  If I already know that someone I respect really loves a film (restaurant, book, whatever), I am walking in with a very positive inclination to also enjoy the experience.  M.I.T professor Pattie Maes, who pioneered one of the first recommendation engines in the early ’90s, believes that these sources of influence are the flaw in the Netflix contest (based solely on movie rating information).  She believes “culture isn’t experienced in solitude. We also consume shows and movies and music as a way of participating in society. That social need can override the question of whether or not we’ll like the movie.”

Our desire for conversational capital and the social connection it can create is indeed capable of overriding, or at least prejudicing, our individual tastes.  Maybe instead of longing for the demogrphic information of the recommenders in the Netflix contest, the golden ticket would indeed be a social graph showing the way various recommenders are connected and the order they have seen the various films.

Ben at Church of the Customer and John at Brand Autopsy have kindly shared the remarkable story of Tom’s Shoes. In a nutshell:

Strategy: Passion + a Simple Mission

For every pair you purchase, TOMS will give a pair of shoes to a child in need. One for One

Advertising Budget: $0. To quote the founder, “It’s hard to do advertising in a personal way” Marketing dollars are spent on getting involving customers in the mission – truly cutting the marketing clutter. In an MSNBC interview, a retailer explains that the shoes started selling after posting a picture of the shoes being handed out and the mission over the display.

Results:

• 60,000 pairs donated and a goal of 200,000 by the end of 2008.
• People who think the shoes are ugly on first glance (including me) purchasing them and breathlessly waiting for them to arrive.
• A growing army of volunteer marketers who want to be asked about their ugly shoes so they can tell the story.

I am equally excited about the shoes, mission and conversational capital that I just bought!

As the Miracle clan prepared for our beach trip this week, I moved from mildly amused by the colorful new vineyard vines store in Georgetown to borderline obsessed. While I had admired the slice of Martha’s Vineyard life offered in the store since its opening and had even directed visitors staying with us to check it out, I hadn’t taken the purchase plunge myself.

Once I started buying, I couldn’t stop. Why? The store is not just about the merchandise, nor is it just about the Vineyard lifestyle (or the “Good Life” as they call it) – it’s about being a part of a great entrepreneurial dream. In the words of founding brothers Shep & Ian:

“In 1998 we started vineyard vines on Martha’s Vineyard, and we’ve been having the time of our lives ever since. We’re brothers who decided to leave corporate jobs in New York City to pursue the American Dream. With no money and little experience, we set out to make ties that represent the finer places and things life has to offer. We’re pleased to have expanded beyond the shores of the Vineyard and now offer much more than just ties”.

I can guarantee this is a critical part of their merchandising, because they tell “Our Story” across all customer touchpoints – catalog, in store, on almost every single page of their website, and even the polo short tags read “vineyard vines by shep & ian”. On the section of their website, you are transported out of e-commerce and into a robust online realm that is what vv is selling beyond clothes including:

The Dream – media clips and videos that show the brothers telling their story. A great Entrepreneur clip shows them going from $2m in sales in 2002 to $372m in 2006.

Customer Community – photos of everyone from Violet Affleck to everyday other vv customers wearing the clothes doing everything from getting married to boating with Walter Cronkite (no kidding). You are invited to send in yours too.

Whale Tales – the stories of notable customers told with photos of them modeling their favorite vv outfits.

This is a remarkable case of a business sharing its story – not just by telling it, but inviting you to participate, meet them, come to their events, and contribute your own stories and photos as customers are also a part of “Our Story“.

I wonder how many other business I patronize also have remarkable stories that they aren’t telling? Or do they just not want to invite me in?