CHAPTER 6

Brand Analytical Tools

Two broad categories of analytical instruments will be discussed in this chapter: those relating to the brand life cycle and those that can assist in the management of the brand identity.

The brand life cycle because, despite its apparent simplicity, it remains a basic strategic management instrument. Brand identity because it is a unifying principle of all the activities of the company, which allows a semiotic approach to meaning-creation mechanisms, key factors in the world of consumption.

Brand Life Cycle

Brands are a part of our most intimate history. Their history is not quite one and the same as that of the company that brought them into existence. They have an independent life and, having become part of our imagination, sometimes survive there long after the company has disappeared.

A brand’s history comprises phases of strong expansion alternating with phases of relative stagnation, and perhaps rapid decline. This situation is not really different from what is termed the life cycle of a product or a company. As shown in Figure 6.1, the life of a brand can be represented on a graph, with time mapped against an estimate of the brand’s strength based on a given convention (here we chose sales volume).

The graph follows the same phases—launch, growth, maturity, decline, relaunch, and disappearance—that characterize the life cycle of a product. At each of these stages, the problems faced by the luxury brand’s director are posed in specific terms.

The fashion and luxury sector is particularly concerned with the relaunching phase, which can become a real problem for brands that have reached maturity or decline. The most spectacular example of successive relaunchings is that of Gucci, as illustrated in Figure 6.2. The brand’s first major relaunch took place in 1995–96. Its results for 2002 were affected by 9/11, as well as the struggle between the LVMH and PPR groups for control of the brand. Even after the departure of Ford and de Sole, who were, respectively, the creative director and the chairman, 2004 and 2005 results were very good, and continued to be, under the direction of Patrizio di Marco (CEO since 2009 after the leaderships of Giacomo Santucci and Mark Lee) as well as with Frida Giannini as creative director since 2006. The curve looks a bit like a roller coaster, but it reflects the brand’s strength and ability to rebound. There is clearly a first cycle with a relaunch in 1995, then a new boost in 2004 after the decline of 2002. Was 2010 the beginning of a new relaunch?

Relaunching can create a new life cycle for the brand, though relaunches are rarely as successful as this. The first jump, in 1995–96, illustrates what we refer to later in this chapter as the great leap and involves a drastic repositioning of the brand, its identity, and, in this case, its target consumers. It’s like giving the brand a new lease on life through new values (which are, of course, compatible with earlier values).

Another luxury brand that has been the object of a major relaunch is Burberry. The brand is clearly in the growth phase of the new life cycle, following a jump in 2000–01, when its operations in Spain went from license fees to full revenue (see Figure 6.3). It went through the recent crises with no major difficulties and showed a strong performance in 2011.

Other brands in the luxury industries sector are at different stages of their respective life cycles. Bulgari, for example, enjoyed a strong growth phase from 1993 until 2001, as illustrated in Figure 6.4. Then, like many others, it suffered the effects of 9/11. It had been in a declining phase since 2007, with a comeback in 2010 to previous levels. Hopefully, the acquisition in 2011 by the LVMH Group will be an opportunity for a new growth strategy.

Hermès, a brand that is over a century old, has had relatively constant growth since the early 1990s, as illustrated in Figure 6.5. It seems little affected by the different economic slumps, as if the attraction of authentic luxury was continuing its evolution independently of economic crises. As with Bulgari, there was a decline in 2003, but the growth has since returned to the pace of the 1990s, reaching an extraordinary performance in 2010 with a yearly growth of 25.4 percent. The aristocratic French brand is far from maturity.

Ferragamo, on the other hand, seemed to be deep into its maturity phase, until it finally showed outstanding results in 2010 with a growth of 24 percent as illustrated in Figure 6.6. The discontinuity of the year 2000 corresponds with the consolidation of sales that followed the purchase of its Japanese retailing subsidiary. Until 2009, the curve for comparative yearly business volume is, in fact, very close to the theoretical profile of the life cycle.

The Birth of a Brand

How are brands born? We are talking here of strong brands, ones destined to make their mark. One thing is sure: Fame can’t be guaranteed. This is as true of brands as it is of individuals. Certain measures and resources can aid their ascent, but success is never guaranteed.

Analysis after the fact inevitably reveals that a strong brand has its origins in an ambitious project supported by the faith of a talented individual. This will often be the founder of the company, whose confidence in the underlying vision and ability to make it a reality are determining advantages. Boldness, vision, and determination are indispensable qualities.

Innovation is the second essential factor. Creative genius consists in reading the mood of the times and offering products that respond to it in novel ways, be it at the level of style, technology, or in the identification of a new need.

In the category of stylistic innovation, we find all the great names of haute couture and accessories: Coco Chanel, Christian Dior, Yves Saint Laurent, Salvatore Ferragamo, Giorgio Armani, and so on. These creators were able to express new ideas that captured the interest of sufficient numbers of people to justify the launch of a durable economic activity.

In the area of technological innovation, there are all the great pioneers of the automobile industry: Ford, Ransom Olds, Bugatti, Panhard, and Renault. And, of course, the likes of Thomas Edison, William Hewlett, Dave Packard, Bill Gates, and Steve Jobs also belong on this list, as does Walt Disney.

The innovation we are speaking of is rarely synonymous with invention because it is integrated into the conditions of distribution of the product or its production on a mass scale, for example. It often operates through appropriation or extrapolation of techniques already worked out on the theoretical level, to which it gives concrete industrial reality. It is true, for example, that Bill Gates was not an inventor of software, but it is also true that this visionary businessman understood, before most people, the potential of the microcomputer, and was able to turn it to his advantage.

Consequently, there are many dimensions of innovation. They can be in the development of a specific production tool that makes the mass production of a new product possible. Innovation can also consist in revolutionizing the production or distribution of an existing product, or the way in which a business or its associated services are organized and conducted. Aside from the fact that the company knit in white yarn and dyed to suit demand, Benetton was born of an innovative system of distribution. Zara’s success arose out of logistical organization and an exceptional capacity to read the needs of the markets. These assets make it possible for the brand to supply products to the places where they are required within 10 days. Ray Kroc founded McDonald’s in 1955 and invented fast food. Prada began to make a name for itself through the use of nylon in the manufacture of its bags.

Communication has also become an important innovative dimension. Take, for example, Sony invading the U.S. streets, tagging the walls for the campaign of its latest PSP console or, more generally, any interactive communication that the Internet makes possible, or the lingerie brand Lise Charmelle, which suddenly became famous in Spain in 2002 following a billboard campaign that captured people’s attention.

In the fashion business, illustrious personalities like Louis Vuitton, Carl-Franz Bally, Enrique Loewe, and Guccio Gucci were not creators in the stylistic or technological sense of the term, but artisans who developed their industrial and commercial vision beginning in the mid-nineteenth century.

At what exact point does a brand become a brand? The question is somewhat rhetorical, but a few commonly used indices can be mentioned here:

• When the brand’s creator dies and it continues to prosper.
• When advertising is no longer needed to sell the products.
• When a €35 million sales volume is reached.
• When new categories of products can be developed successfully.
• When more than 50 percent of the general public in a given country are familiar with the product/company’s existence.
• When the product/company has established a presence in Europe, the United States, and Asia.

We feel, in fact, that any economic activity has within it the seed of a brand that will develop if conditions are favorable. How many brands started with the activities of small-scale artisans or merchants? Many brands that are not international and have low name recognition continue to prosper.

Growth of a Brand

In a growth phase, a brand will implement a strategy of expansion, both quantitative and qualitative. Most brands that are successful today are in this phase of development, and are characterized by two-figure growth rates.

On the quantitative level, the brand will try to establish itself in new geographical markets, while extending its presence in its existing markets. The logic of volume is more evident in this phase; more has to be sold in order to absorb fixed costs more easily. But, since communication is generally managed in terms of a percentage of sales, the greater the sales, the more the brand can communicate.

On the qualitative level, the brand will optimize its production and distribution tools, possibly improve its product, and use its growing reputation to move into new areas. Such extensions through launching new categories of products are, of course, a growth factor, but they also increase awareness of the brand by making it more accessible, thanks to multiple and/or wider distribution channels. They plant the seeds of future legitimacy in new sectors. The budget for communication and strengthening the brand’s identity then serves as an umbrella for several categories of products and becomes profitable more easily.

The fact that there are multiple axes of development—sectoral growth, geographical expansion, the introduction of new product categories, the optimization of internal processes, and repositioning the brand—explains why this phase can last several decades. With the exception of sectoral growth, these are all the ways in which a brand can take market share away from its most significant competitors.

Sectoral Growth

The most recent case of rapid sectoral expansion is the explosion in the market for electronic tablets after the successful launch of the iPad, following the pattern of a phenomenon already observed with the notebook and the mobile telephone. However, this single axis cannot ensure stable growth in a market that is volatile or is rapidly reaching saturation.

Geographical Expansion

As soon as a product is successful in one country, it is logical to think that it should sell well in other countries. Attempts to put this into practice are varied and take on a great diversity of forms.

In some cases, especially in the mass market, the same product, with the same communication strategy, can succeed. This is the worldwide strategy of Coca-Cola and Pepsi Cola, for example. We are not strong advocates of universal communication, which we feel is now applied increasingly less, and even in the cases of these products, which rely on target populations that are federated by transnational values (youth, dynamism, a relaxed attitude toward adults), there is room for adjusting to local conditions. In the case of certain big advertisers, the central marketing teams send out a complete, flexible kit that, for example, utilizes the same strategy but with different approaches. Thus, each national team can choose the particular campaign that will be most applicable to its environment.

This is also what is done with all fashion and perfume brands, a large percentage of whose sales are to overseas consumers. The advertising will generally be identical. In certain cases, however, it may have to be modified slightly, for example, for the Persian Gulf countries.

In the cosmetics industry, the product will be identical, but the communication will vary depending on the country. In one country, the product may not serve quite the same function as in another. In the United States, for example, a Yamaha 125cc motorcycle is a leisure product; in Taiwan, it’s a means of transportation. In such cases, the advertising will be different.

There are also cases in which the product is different while the communication remains more or less identical. For example, in the Asian markets, certain cognac producers market sweeter versions of their products. While the name remains the same and the advertising is similar, the formula might be adapted to meet the needs of local taste.

There are cases—in the detergent business, for example—where both the product and the communication differ, but they are generally outside the luxury categories and therefore not within the purview of this study.

This diversity of situations is a good illustration of the many difficulties that can be involved in exporting a brand. Cases of failed geographical expansion are legion. Leaving aside organizational dysfunction related to a poor understanding of local conditions and requirements, a brand, or its product, can sometimes prove simply not to be exportable.

There are products that have a cult following in a given country, but whose potential outside the national borders is limited. Pastis 51 and Suze, typically French products that are heavily consumed in France, are difficult to export. Italy’s Martini is used as an aperitif in the United States, but is unlikely to become an international product consumed habitually and at high volume.

Another type of brand that is very strong in its own country but difficult to export is the department store—witness Marks & Spencer’s recent failure in continental Europe. The French might wonder why the Galeries Lafayette stores have not succeeded in locating elsewhere—in New York, Singapore, Bangkok, or Berlin. The explanation is simple. The success of the Galeries Lafayette in France is linked to a certain French lifestyle, represented by a group of French brands that are known and liked by French consumers. In Berlin or New York, those French consumers are not present, and brands thought of as representing French chic are not necessarily available to the store; if they are very strong brands, they already have a presence in the target market, often through exclusivity agreements with other local department stores or with their own boutiques. The challenge is that of creating a French lifestyle abroad, without French customers and without the leading French brands. It’s hard to build a strong case for the existence of such a store. The only cases of the successful export of department stores are Japanese stores such as Sogo and Daimaru in Southeast Asia, but they benefit locally from the support of numerous Japanese residents and tourists. The French Le Printemps store in Tokyo, unable to stock any of the major French brands, reinvented a French style aimed at very young girls. It offers new brands, unknown in Japan and sometimes even in France, or created especially for the store.

Zara is a special case. The company’s growth during the 1990s happened without advertising and was based on the opening of new single-brand stores outside Spain, relying on its skill in reading trends and its rapid logistical responsiveness. In twenty-five years, Amancio Ortega created the Inditex group, the owner of the Zara brand, which has 5,044 stores around the world with sales of €14 billion in 2011.

In conclusion, while geographical expansion would seem to be the most natural dimension of development, it is also complex, and requires time and heavy investments. In addition, the results are often unpredictable—the French chain, Sephora, which early in 2002 closed the stores it had just opened in Japan and in the United States, has learned. For these reasons, the process of development on the international level makes for a more wide-open game, but a more difficult one too.

New Product Categories

It’s natural to want to amortize communication efforts over a larger number of products. That is why the development of new categories has always been a favorite area for brands. One of the keys to success is a correct reading of the lines of relatedness between the original product and the area of diversification.

The Michelin Guide (1900) and roadmaps (1910) are an interesting historical example of this type of diversification. The promotion of automobile tourism by a tire manufacturer showed a concern for innovation, but also fit perfectly into the context of an industry that was in its infancy. At the time, the automobile remained a leisure item for the privileged classes rather than a general means of transportation.

If diversification seems natural in the fashion and luxury milieu, it’s because couturiers became aware very early on of the importance of their labels. The famous No. 5 fragrance, launched by Coco Chanel in 1921 and now the world’s largest-selling perfume, is still one of the great successes.

During the past decade, this trend has reached feverish proportions, with the launch of new products that are sometimes quite removed from the legitimacy of the original products.

The couture brands, without venturing too far from the original matrix, first moved into secondary lines: Rive Gauche for Yves Saint Laurent, Ungaro’s Ivoire and Emanuel, Versus by Versace, “Emporio Armani,” D&G for Dolce & Gabbana, Donna Karan’s DKNY, and so on. Then, during the 1990s, they developed lines of accessories (luggage, shoes, silk articles, eyewear), a sector with higher margins and rates of growth and also an effective vector of communication.

Ungaro, after being taken over by the Ferragamo family in 1996, launched a line of accessories. Louis Vuitton began offering shoes. Loewe did the same, only to discover that you don’t become a shoemaker overnight, and that to succeed with a new category of products, you have to be able to get across to the consumer a message of seriousness, competitiveness not only in terms of product quality, wealth of the offering, and service at the point of sale, but also, above all, coherence with the brand’s values.

Going in the opposite direction, the accessories brands (Ferragamo, Gucci, Bally, Prada, Loewe, and so on) diversified into ready-to-wear. They developed (generally through licensing) a line of eyewear, perfumes, and, often, watches. Bulgari began as a jeweler, and then developed accessories and perfumes. Jewelry and watch-making took on importance in the mid-1990s. It now looks as if intimate feminine apparel will be the new frontier: Christian Dior and Burberry, for example, are developing into this area.

Finally, the hospitality business is attracting the luxury brands. In 1987, Maruccia Mandelli (Krizia) opened its K Club hotel in Barbados. The Ferragamo family began investing in it in the mid-1990s, but without associating the brand with it. Armani, in the wake of the launch of its Armani Casa products and stores, invested in hotels in Sardinia. Bulgari has associated its brand most openly with the industry in a joint venture with Marriott International Luxury Group to create Bulgari Hotel & Resorts, in which Bulgari is in charge of decoration and Marriott handles management. There is also Versace, who opened the Palazzo Versace in Brisbane in 2000, and intends to develop in this sector. After all, creating a living space—if well done and compatible with the brand’s values—should be an effective way of moving toward achieving the coveted status of lifestyle brand. Camper’s only diversification away from shoes has been in the hotel and restaurant area.

Other types of companies have also taken an interest in the potential offered by diversification. Marlboro launched a line of clothing in keeping with the mythology of the wide-open spaces of the West on which it has based its advertising for decades. Coca-Cola has opened single-brand stores to sell a whole series of gift and souvenir items, from T-shirts to coffee mugs, including such items as trays decorated with advertisements from the 1930s. Disney, Warner Bros. and even soccer clubs (Manchester United, Juventus of Turin, Real Madrid) have successfully developed this diversification toward gift and souvenir products.

Most automotive and motorcycle brands have started offering clothing and accessories more or less associated with the use of their basic products. The Pirelli brand was one of the first to move into shoes, watches, and clothing. However, the most extraordinary products and customer-segments extension has been made by one of the most luxurious of brands: Ferrari. In 2001, it embarked on a major development of gifts, souvenirs, books, games, T-shirts, and so on, through licensing and co-branding, and opening flagship stores (twenty in 2005, forty in 2010) and boutiques around the world—activities that in 2010 generated probably more than half of the total turnover of 1.92 billion euros. Ducati is following in the same strategic direction, showing more than fifty licensees on its website in 2010, with brands like Microsoft, Puma, Mattel, and so on.

For certain brands, such incursions can be regarded as being merely speculative, with no real development ambitions and far removed from the core products and the brand identity. Such is clearly the case with brand restaurants, which have met with varying degrees of success (Lustucru, Eurosport, Nescafé in Paris). And one may also wonder what future there is in Harley-Davidson fragrances. Others, however, have succeeded over the years in developing new territories of legitimacy that have made them stronger. Time is the essential factor here.

In his determination to reduce the number of brands in his group, Edwin Artz, the former CEO of Procter & Gamble, would urge his people to: “Find the way, the unique selling proposition or the reason for being, which will enable you to sell several products under the same brand.”

The second key to the success of a strategy of product diversification is the brand’s degree of conceptualization. The more the values expressed by the brand are conceptual in nature, the easier it becomes to adapt to different and seemingly unrelated product categories. This has led to the current vogue for the lifestyle brand, the natural culmination of the principle of diversification. The concept is a strong one. It aims at all objects and services people use every day—what they wear, eat, drink, and smoke—but also their sedentary or traveling environment, including furniture, bedding, wallpaper, decorator items, draperies, floor tiles, paint, tableware, luggage, and so on. The lifestyle is carried through to the hotel in which they stay. Having a single umbrella brand is a way of guaranteeing the profitability of all the investments made on the promotion of this all-encompassing identity.

For brands whose identity was originally founded on a lifestyle, product diversification is often easy. Such is the case of Ralph Lauren, which promotes the traditional New England WASP lifestyle. All the products, which incorporate tableware and entertainment as well as paint for customers’ homes, are very well presented in the stores, particularly in the flagship on Madison Avenue in New York, where the lifestyle offered is very clear.

Other brands, whose identity is strongly linked to a product or to specific signs, have more difficulty or are more prudent. Missoni, which established its identity on a specific type of fabric and a specific chromatic palette, does not venture far from the domain of clothing and a few accessories.

Besides, the most original initiatives are not necessarily crowned with success. They may result in a temporary gain in fame for the brand, but without paying back the investment they represented. Consumers are always there to remind us that the further products depart from the domain of established legitimacy, the more difficult it is to score a quick success.

Diversification, then, is an area that can be profitable if a general principle—intelligent relatedness—is adhered to. But this is not always obvious. It’s important to take every precaution, to be skilled in piloting the evolution of the brand or the characteristics of the products over time, and, above all, to treat time and the limits of evolution of the brand’s identity with respect.

Optimization of Internal Processes

This is an area of development that is too often neglected because it is too difficult to deal with. It’s easier to design and open new points of sale than to reduce the development time of a product. Yet optimizing internal processes is what often succeeds in taking market share away from direct competitors.

In the fashion sector, receiving products from the new collections promptly means increased sales and, above all, significant increases in margin. Reducing the development time for new products (that is, the time to market, the time that elapses between the initial concept and the availability of the product for sale) can be the decisive competitive weapon in numerous sectors, including automotive, food products, telecommunications, clothing, and accessories.

An effective reading of market signals, product design oriented toward surpassing the competition and satisfying target customers, production that adheres to quality standards, and flawless logistics that supply distribution networks at the proper time all have a positive impact on brand performance.

Brand Repositioning

In fact, the term that should be used here is adjustment. By repositioning, we generally mean the great leap that takes place when a brand exchanges its existing clientele for another one that strategists are more comfortable with. This operation is fraught with risk and obviously would not be undertaken by a brand in its growth phase. As we will see, it is a radical remedy, more appropriate in phases of decline.

In our case, therefore, the action is more subtle. It aims at making the brand more attractive without alienating existing customers. On the contrary, the brand can try to entertain them a little, while taking advantage of the circumstances to try to draw new ones in.

When Marc Jacobs was recruited by Louis Vuitton in 1997 to develop a ready-to-wear collection, many people were skeptical. The first show got a cool reception from the press and the brand’s hard-core fans. They had trouble seeing the connection with the art of travel or the conservative spirit that had come to be associated with the brand’s identity.

However, fashion, which had seemed incompatible with the brand at first, proved to be an unexpected source of dynamism. The fashion shows and the opening of global stores in Paris, London, and Tokyo extended its media coverage, and the choices made for the collections proved to be a tour de force in rejuvenating the brand’s identity without alienating existing customers. The sales volume of the fashion and leather-goods branch of LVMH—where Louis Vuitton represents the majority—increased from €3.6 billion in 2001 to €7.6 billion in 2010.

This success is the result of a profound understanding of the brand’s identity and of the way it is perceived. Louis Vuitton was able to find in its historical identity the elements of a fashion discourse. The values of tradition associated with his luggage connote not so much conservatism as excellence and distinction—the nostalgic evocation of a time when travel was still an adventure and the domain of a small circle of privileged individuals. Nostalgic exoticism is the stock-in-trade of the fashion magazines today, but style counts less than fantasy. The brand has made extensive use of this imaginative capital. In a time of mass activities and the homogenization of leisure, where the trend is toward the search for originality and refinement, such distinctive signs have undeniable seductive power. Louis Vuitton itself perpetuates this tradition by publishing books that are appropriate to its brand territory. In 1994, the collection Voyager avec. . .(Travels with. . .) offered authors’ travel accounts. The Carnets de Voyage (Travel Notebooks) presented the world’s great cities in the form of colorful illustrations. The Louis Vuitton City Guide, launched in 2005, is becoming a must for high-end tourists.

What we call the turbo effect of fashion is also at work in the case of Coach, an American luggage brand with hand-crafted origins founded in 1941. Designer Reed Krakoff was recruited from Tommy Hilfiger in 1996 to give Coach—known until then for its sturdy leather bags—a fashion aspect and, in the words of its CEO, Lew Frankfurt, to “invent the classics of tomorrow.” The brand has also introduced new categories of products (shoes, eyewear, watches) and the talent generated success.

The latest example of the turbo effect is the success that Burberry has been experiencing since 2001. Superb ad campaigns blending modernity and British tradition, a product offering with appropriate prices, the systematic use of the brand’s famous tartan—all these strategic choices have paid off.

In these three examples, the turbo effect works because it is based on an intelligent transposition of the brand’s identity values—its invariants—to the stylistic grammar of fashion. Far from being an obstacle, the traditional connotations of Louis Vuitton or Burberry become in themselves the sign of a certain world of imagination that can be reinvented, extended to other products, and adapted to the taste of the times. These successful adjustments show an accurate assessment of the brand’s identity and of how it is perceived by the markets. Such strategies, when they meet with success, lead to substantial increases in growth rates.

Conclusion on Brand’s Growth

The lessons to be learned from the examples we have looked at include the following:

• The less the values expressed by the brand’s identity are conceptualized, the more difficult it is to adapt to new product categories.
• Time alone lends legitimacy to brands that penetrate new product sectors, but only to the extent that these new products fit within the brand’s preexisting ethic and aesthetic (or cause it to evolve while respecting a certain continuity) and where the brand shows tenacity, authenticity, and determination with its new offering.
• It is wise to approach any drastic change in brand identity with great circumspection in a growth phase. When the great leap is made, it is never clear whether the new clientele will more than compensate for the one that may be alienated. It’s a risky exercise that is best applied to brands in decline.
• All growth areas have their limits. Maturity lies in wait for brands, as it does for human beings.

Brand’s Maturity

This is the time of optimum cash flow, but also the time to wake up.

Generally, the rate of growth has been in single figures for several years; decline is approaching.

In ordinary language, we would say that a new lease on life needs to be found, and that is what brand managers of mass-consumption products work at. They try endlessly to improve the technical performances of their product. But they also introduce novelty in the form of extensions, say, a lavender or lemon-lime version of a fabric softener or a room deodorizer. This diversity, of course, entails additional production and storage costs and, above all, a business volume that is averaged downward by the lower-selling products. This sometimes requires reworking the existing sizes to make sure that the diversity of packaging is matched by the performance of each of the new varieties.

The period of maturity, then, is a period of broadening and diversification of the product offering. One product may specialize in a single form and function while another product is launched to cover another application, but care must be taken to avoid excess. When Pampers, for example, launched its disposable diaper differentiated for girls and boys, it seemed like a very creative idea; but what did mothers think of it? This is perhaps best gauged by the fact that the experiment was quickly abandoned.

Chanel, which has been facing the challenges posed by maturity for several years, reacted by broadening its product offering and launching—with much effort and impressive results—a leather-goods line, then a line of watches, and finally a line of luxury jewelry. What can come next? Products for men, perhaps? But would the brand’s essentially feminine positioning allow that?

In this maturity phase, the same possible growth vectors exist as in the preceding phase. The sole difference lies in the fact that certain brands are capable of anticipating their maturity and possible decline while still experiencing strong development, while others can only resign themselves to their fate.

Decline, Relaunch, and Death

Decline is announced by a progressive loss of market share and decreasing sales volumes.

At this point, there are only three possible developments: continuing decline over a more or less long period, followed by the death of the brand, or its relaunch.

Continuing Decline

This period can last as long as financial resources permit. Such is the relatively common case of brands that have been trying for several years to curb a decline that is not yet under control. Examples are numerous.

Bally’s business volume has been decreasing since the early 1990s, and in that time, twelve top management teams and two shareholders have strenuously attempted to turn the tide. Losses have been accumulating—the turbo effect of fashion doesn’t work for everyone.

Dunhill, Kodak, and many other brands have been attempting for many years to engineer an upturn, often without visible results.

The curve of Eastman Kodak’s business volume since the early 1960s, as illustrated in Figure 6.7, again close to the theoretical curve of brand life cycles, is typical of a brand in decline. In this particular case, the reasons have to do essentially with technological evolution and strategic choices. The strategy pursued in the past few years—aimed at positioning Kodak as an imaging-technology brand providing digital and film imaging, health imaging and information, graphic communication, and display and components—generated some renewed growth in recent years, only to suffer a lapse in 2005. In January 2012, the 131-year-old company filed for bankruptcy protection.

Brand Death

Death comes from a lack of financial resources, from the erosion of demand, or as a result of a management decision. Management can condemn a brand to extinction at the time of its acquisition. When the Spanish department-store chain Corte Ingles bought out its competitor Galerias Preciados from Venezuelan financiers, it kept the best sales outlets and got rid of the others, but put all the stores under the single Corte Ingles name. Overnight, the Galerias Preciados name disappeared, as also happened in France with the Nouvelles Galeries after their purchase by Galeries Lafayette. The stronger, more evocative name won out.

This is a frequent scenario in acquisitions. However, the launch of a new product can prove to be the death knell to a product of inferior quality. When Gillette launched its new Gillette Fusion ProGlide razor with four blades, it spelled the end of its former top-of-the-line products, Fusion, Gillette Mach 3 razor with three pivoting flexible blades, Contour, and Trac II. Of course, Gillette will have to continue manufacturing and distributing Contour blades for the many owners of this type of razor, but, little by little, they’ll be won over by the new product and move to it.

Many companies in the mass market have sacrificed brands on the altar of expansion or survival. We’ve already mentioned the process of drastic reduction Procter & Gamble has undertaken. The La Roche Aux Fées brand, created in France in 1926, disappeared in 1988 when the owner company merged with Chambourcy. The latter, created in 1948, was closed out in 1996 by Nestlé.

These decisions, motivated by economic interests, are not without risk. Particularly in the case of prestige products, such as automobiles or watches, whose added value is high and very apparent, disappointing loyal customers can expose a brand to harsh penalties. This was made very clear in the Peugeot group’s tampering with the Simca brand in France. Simca represented a brand in its own right, with a network of energetic, efficient dealers who were proud to sell the cars and serve customers who were devoted to the brand. Simca was more than a name on the hoods of cars; it was a world, a virtual universe. Thus, replacing the name with Talbot models from a certain date was bound to upset many customers. What happens, for example, to the customer who had just bought a new Simca, and who was happy to drive the car and project himself into the brand’s values? The least that might have been done—and wasn’t—was to allow dealers to change the brands on the hood, steering wheel, and trunk lid, in the guarantee booklet and manuals of their model, and so on, to reflect change of name. Should that have been done for all owners of Simcas, even ten-year-old models? Probably, and it wouldn’t have been enough.

The directors of PSA thought it would be enough to repaint the dealerships and launch billboard campaigns announcing the changeover for consumers to accept the transition. But consumers don’t react rationally. They subscribe to the values of a brand and make it their own. For example, each time a driver is in a line of cars behind the same make or model as his own, he experiences a slight feeling of satisfaction. How will he react when he loses this type of reference point?

While companies sometimes sacrifice their brand, its fame may survive indefinitely nevertheless. Makes such as Panhard or Hispano-Suiza are still alive in the imagination of several generations, though the plants that produced the cars have long since disappeared. Such resilience can, in the case of most prestigious brands, also lead to their resurrection (as, for example, with Westinghouse). There is the case of the famous Orient Express, now a registered brand, the property of the American group of the same name, or Solex motorbikes, produced under license since 2000 following an agreement between the brand’s owner, Magneti Marelli, and the manufacturer Impex Hungaria.

Brands also disappear for economic or strategic failures. Hummer could not find an ultimate buyer in 2010 and died a victim of its positioning in frontal opposition to the peaceful and environmental sensitivities of the market, and of the impact of the financial crisis of 2008 on General Motors.

The service sector is not exempt from resounding disappearances. The case of Arthur Andersen, for example, is considered at the end of this section. In November 2002, the UBS bank announced the disappearance of the prestigious financial names Warburg and Paine Webber. Their activities have been continued under the parent company’s name, UBS. As far as the Lehman Brothers brand is concerned, it just disappeared in the turmoil of the crisis it triggered.

Relaunch

The last means for a brand to achieve growth is through what we call the great leap, which, to date, few brands have succeeded in making. The term generally refers to a repositioning of the brand to encompass a programmed change of clientele. It applies to companies in decline that have already undergone heavy restructuring and improvements to their internal processes but without managing to reverse the trend.

The decline of a brand is always visible in an erosion of its relevance to consumers. The brand and its products are no longer interesting, or, rather, they are less interesting than those of competitors. The evolution of the brand’s identity that results from a successful relaunching plan is a synthesis of the brand’s response to this problem.

One of the most stunning cases of a successful relaunch is that of Gucci. The business volume of Gucci N.V. went from around €140 million in 1992 to €1.594 billion in 2001 and €2,666 billion in 2010. The Gucci products division, the only one existing in 1992, made it possible to purchase other brands and it achieved additional sales of €1.055 billion. After the preparatory work done by Maurizio Gucci and Dawn Mello, creative director Tom Ford, and CEO Domenico de Sole conducted the largest operation of wealth creation in a minimum amount of time, starting with a brand in the fashion sector. This is an exceptional case that will probably never happen again.

The brand of today bears little resemblance to what it was when Tom Ford took over as creative director in 1992. His action transformed Gucci’s identity. The brand’s traditional values—quality craftsmanship, the Italian jet set of the Cinecittè years—were replaced by the universe of the Hollywood swingles. Seduction is now central to all of the brand’s discourse, and the new designer has truly made it his own. The clientele, entirely renewed, has more than compensated for that which was disappearing in the late 1980s.

Brand relaunchings are always difficult exercises. Growth has natural limits, and it seems doubtful that a successful brand can be relaunched indefinitely. Gucci understands this and is now developing as a multibrand group under the PPR group ownership. In the past six years, it has acquired Balenciaga, Sergio Rossi, Bottega Veneta, Boucheron, Alexander McQueen, Stella McCartney, Yves Saint Laurent, and Puma.

Puma is another example of a successful relaunch. After seven years of losses, the company appointed Jochen Zeitz to lead it. During the initial years, he concentrated on returning to profitability by improving internal processes (particularly through rationalizing production facilities). In 1998, the brand repositioned itself from the playing field to the street. Expenditures for communication doubled. Sales followed suit, doubling between 1998 and 2001, while Nike’s results were stagnating, and Adidas’s grew by only 20 percent. “We want to make Puma the most desirable brand for young people, representative of their lifestyle,” Zeitz told French daily Le Monde in February 2001. The consolidated turnover was €279 million in 1997; it reached €2,862 million in 2010.

The famous luxury men’s ready-to-wear Italian brand Brioni has just been acquired and was added to the PPR Group portfolio in November 2011.

Brand Identity

We sometimes have a tendency to confine brand identity to the intuitive, affective sphere, which the company’s concrete and methodical processes cannot influence.

Yet tools for analysis do exist, originating in the field of semiology, with which this area can be at least partially rationalized, and provide very concrete lessons about managing a brand. During our careers we have had occasion to use them in the field from the pragmatic point of view of managers, and with tangible results.

A Still-Too-Unfamiliar Concept

While the term brand identity is encountered frequently in professional jargon, it is nevertheless a fairly new one. It is probable that an in-depth and systematic consideration has been undertaken of the identity of few brands today. To formalize this concept a little more, we might refer you to Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary, tenth edition, which gives the following definition of identity:

What we call the brand identity corresponds to an extension of the definition above, with a strong human dimension. But the term suits our purposes because two necessary (though not sufficient) elements are present in it: on the one hand, differentiation, on the other, permanence, or, if you will, durability.

We may attempt a more precise initial definition of brand identity: the capacity of a brand to be recognized as unique, over time, without confusion, thanks to the elements that individualize it.

One might think that an attachment to these criteria of individuality is somehow natural to managers, but the history of brands is full of examples to the contrary, as a result of either ignorance or else a voluntary disregard for the virtues of reflection on the identity of brands.

An example encountered in the banking sector seems a good illustration of the absence of consideration of brand identity in such important undertakings as the definition of a new graphical identity. Banco Sabadell is a bank of Catalan origin, extremely dynamic, which was successfully introduced on the Madrid stock exchange a few years ago. In 1998 the bank decided to transform its corporate image, notably by adopting a new graphic identity. It called in Mario Eskenazi, an Argentine architect based in Spain, the winner of numerous awards, and the creator of several logos for major Spanish companies. He was put in charge of designing a new graphics charter, with a new logo to be used on all communication media, and also of redecorating the bank’s agencies. Once the job was done, the designer gave an interview, which the bank itself published. Here is an excerpt:

What does the new image of Banco Sabadell try to get across?

That’s a very difficult question to answer without falling into excessively pompous phraseology. I think that, when you create a new image for a company, it’s very rare that you start by considering what you are trying to communicate. It’s very difficult for a corporate image, in and of itself, to transmit something. Its role is to facilitate clear identification of the company. In this sense, the new image of Banco Sabadell is not trying to get anything across.1

This may have been provocation on the part of the designer; it might have been his way of asserting the primacy of his intuitive creativity over the careful calculations of the communicators. Or maybe it was a way of discreetly expressing his disdain for the idea that a commercial brand can actually produce meaning. Whatever the case, a statement like this one does a disservice to the extensive collaborative and deliberative effort that must be inherent in any renovation of a corporate identity. It shows that the notion of brand identity is not sufficiently widespread in the corporate world and in corporate communication. Otherwise such a statement, made in the name of the bank itself, would be unthinkable.

We recognize that the logo created by Mario Eskenazi is very original (a white B within a blue circle and a bigger black S separated on the right), graphically much more modern than the one it replaced (a blue S enlaced in a blue B encircled by a blue circle, with white background) and more easily recognizable—qualities that many brands might envy. But what a loss of an opportunity to reflect on the specific and unique characteristics of the Catalan bank and create a corporate image that produces meaning!

The case of the French bank Crédit du Nord, however, is a good example of careful reflection on the identity of a brand. In 1984, Crédit du Nord, the fifth-ranking French banking group at the time, introduced a new image, involving redesign of the logo, the graphics of the name, the architecture of the branches, and advertising and public relations campaigns. The image was entirely founded on the concept of clarity. For ten years, the bank had suffered from an indistinct image as an old, serious, provincial bank. Its merger with the Banque de l’Union Parisienne, a business bank active in high finance, had not helped clarify the situation.

The detailed history of the development of a new logo and all the elements of communication, starting with the concept of light or clarity, has been recounted in a book by the semiotician Jean-Marie Floch.2 In it, he explains how the communications agency, Creative Business, with whom he collaborated, developed, using semiological tools, all the elements of the new communication, beginning with the blue star, which replaced the orange cube as the brand’s logo.

The concept of light, in the banking field, was analyzed as the choice of a certain type of relationship between the banker and the client. This relationship was based on the recognition of the competence and sovereignty of the client. The idea of light thus crystallized a value involved with the very essence of what any relationship with a bank should be: confidence.

This concept led first of all to the choice of a code, that is, a style: a brand aesthetic resolutely classical in nature, wherein the logo had to convey frankness and personalized attention. The star was chosen because it represents a visible element in open space; it is also a navigational reference point with rich symbolic connotations.

The creative function, like all other functions necessary to a brand’s operation, must be part of an overall strategy. The brand’s identity is a major resource and a frame of reference for the development of that strategy. It influences not only creation and communication, but also logistics, production, distribution, human resources management, information processing, and so on.

At all levels of its activity, a brand aspires to become what it truly is. And in fact, concrete tools exist for apprehending and managing that individuality.

Tools for Analyzing Brand Identity

We will present some of these tools here. Our intention is in no way to cover exhaustively all the existing tools for analyzing a brand’s identity. The tools we will present have been used effectively by the authors at various points in their careers, and we would like to share them with our readers. Analyzing a brand’s identity is a fairly new approach, one whose history is related to that of the concept of brand identity itself.

Naomi Klein3 rightly refers to the work of Bruce Barton, who was, incidentally, the creator of Betty Crocker, and the second B of the BBDO advertising agency. In the 1920s, this advertiser began to seek out the “corporate soul.” Aware of the fact that a brand can have meaning beyond the products themselves, the advertising slowly developed, and the vocabulary was enriched with concepts such as the essence, raison d’être, consciousness, soul, and genetic code of a brand. However, it was not until the 1970s that the word identity made its appearance in the specialized literature, generally linked to the concept of corporate identity.4

Brand identity appeared in the early 1980s and spread quickly among professionals in advertising agencies.5 Originally, the term designated, in a limited sense, everything that can identify the brand by linking it to the content of the advertising material. It soon evolved toward a real personification of brands. The words personality, individuality, and identity became common. The French advertiser Jacques Séguéla speaks of the perception of brands through the intermediary of their physicality, their character, and their style. In 1980, he developed this new methodology under the name brand person, which later became known as the star strategy. The concept of identity began, in an indistinct way, to be joined with that of image.

In 1984, David Bernstein, in his book, Company Image and Reality, devoted a chapter on brand identity.6 Little by little, the specialized literature began to study this area. David Aaker attempts a classification, still quite heterogeneous, of brand equity. This includes brand loyalty, name awareness, perceived quality, brand image, and other assets.7 The word personality appears briefly in the book, which, however, maintains a certain confusion between the concept of brand image and that of brand identity. This confusion remains common today. It is important to point out that, in our view, these two concepts do not coincide.

The images (rather than the image) correspond to the perceptions induced in the different consumers who make up the market segments. They are receptive in nature.

The identity is the substance of the brand, expressed via all the methods of communication used by the brand. It is emissive in nature.

To avoid misunderstanding, we avoid using the word image. On the other hand, when we want to refer to the representations induced by the markets, we will speak not of image but of perception of the brand’s identity.

Let’s return to our historical perspective. Jean-Noël Kapferer, in 1992, introduced the first fairly sophisticated analytical tool for dealing with the difficult area of brand identity: the identity prism.8

The Identity Prism

The scheme presented in Figure 6.8 (applied here to Chanel) functions with six dimensions positioned around a prism.

The physique of the brand relates to the concrete element that comes immediately to mind when the name of the brand is mentioned. It is a set of sensory and objective characteristics, exemplified by the following:

• Aubade: women’s lingerie.
• Hermès: a Kelly crocodile handbag and a silk carré.
• Levi’s: a pair of blue jeans, with a distinctive label.
• Toblerone: a chocolate bar with a triangular section, in a yellow and red package.
• Bally: a pair of shoes.
• Tod’s: moccasins.
• Ferrari: a red automobile.
• Ducati: a red motorcycle with a tubular trestle frame.
• Missoni: knitted fabrics or materials colored in a specific way.
• Opinel: a pocketknife with a wooden handle, fitted with a safety catch.
• The brand personality is apprehended by means of questions such as: If it were a man, what kind of character would he have? Professional, aesthete, performance oriented? Original, like Audi? Colorless and odorless, like Opel?
• The brand’s culture is linked to the original values of its creators, often, the culture of the country, the region, or the city where the brand developed: Madrid for Loewe, Sicily for Dolce & Gabbana, Majorca for Majorica, Japan for Shiseido, and so on. But the geographical dimension is not the only one expressed. Hewlett Packard, for example, puts forward the garage spirit of its two gifted pioneers and the spirit of an American company.
• The brand relationship is involved with the social communication of the brand. A brand with identity influences relations between individuals, first through signs of belonging to a group, and then well beyond. What do people think when they see me stepping out of my Maserati or wearing the latest Christian Dior swimsuit? Gucci strongly suggests seduction; Diesel, provocation; banks, confidence in general.
• The brand’s reflection describes the typical customer the market associates with the brand (the customer it imagines for it). This is not to be confused with the target customer: Kapferer is referring here to the market’s perception.
• The brand’s self-image corresponds to the image consumers have of themselves when using the product. When a man lights up a Marlboro, climbs into a Porsche, or puts on an Armani suit, how does he perceive himself?

Kapferer’s prism introduced a major innovation. It was a tool that, for the first time, made systematic study possible while showing the complexity of any approach to brand identity. Nevertheless, it does have limitations.

Self-image and reflection—the two sides of the mirror as Kapferer calls them—are receptive in nature; they have more to do with the perception of the brand’s identity than the identity itself. As for the relationship dimension, it belongs more to the cultural domain. Personality and culture overlap.

After having used it ourselves numerous times, our judgment is that the prism is a useful tool but tricky to use, in particular because of the lack of homogeneity in its categories. The most enlightening parts of the prism are still physique and personality.

These two concepts were studied in greater detail, using the semiotic approach of Jean-Marie Floch, who developed a number of tools derived directly from the methods of structural semantics, intended for analyzing the conditions under which meaning can be produced and perceived.

The Brand Hinge: Ethics and Aesthetics

In the next few paragraphs, we are going to explain the important contribution of semiotics to understanding—and therefore, to the management—of brand identities.

Of all the tools available today, semiology is, in our opinion and based on our experience, the discipline best suited to aiding a manager in defining, prolonging, and defending the identity of a luxury brand. From our perspective as nonspecialists but convinced users, we would like to take a moment to discuss this discipline.

Its aim (according to Greimas) is to describe, as objectively as possible, the process of production of meaning, and generally of all the practices of signification that make up cultures.

If we accept the validity of applying semiotics to the study of brand identities, we are making the following basic premise: Brands are systems that produce meaning.

The tools we present require a certain degree of formalization, so we should assure the reader at the outset of their operational viability. We have used them ourselves in the field, and while they can’t, of course, solve all problems, we feel that their usefulness is undeniable.

The first of these semiotic tools is the hinge, a simple framework developed by Jean-Marie Floch to bring out the different levels of analysis or definition of a brand universe.

Semioticians, following Ferdinand de Saussure, have introduced a distinction between the signifier and the signified. The signifier is the material part of a sign; the signified is the representation with which that material part is associated. For example, the succession of letters T_R_E_E written on a blackboard corresponds to the mental image a reader of those letters produces: that of a tree, a woody plant having a trunk, and so on.9

However, these two dimensions are the two sides of a single coin or, as Saussure put it, a single sheet of paper: One side cannot be separated from the other.

All signs, then, are articulated at a hinge between the signifier (or level of expression) and the signified (or level of content). The same is true, by extension, of groups of signs, and thus of the creation and physical manifestations of brands. This articulation also extends to criteria of invariance and variation. The advantage of this methodological approach is twofold. First, it brings out the two fundamental levels of a brand’s discourse, clearly separating content and container. Then, it places the accent on the invariant elements of the brand. These invariants are precisely what make it possible for the brand to be recognized as itself over time. They constitute the very foundation of its identity.

Figure 6.9 shows the hinge principle applied to a brand universe.

Looking at this diagram, one thing becomes clear: Ethics and aesthetics are the invariants on which the brand’s identity is founded.

The use of the hinge is relatively simple. It aims at characterizing the brand’s identity through its expression and its content, that is, at giving a formal definition of its aesthetic and of its ethic.

The aesthetic study is fairly easy to put into practice, especially if the brand in question is a very typed one, where the colors, shapes, and materials or any type of stylistic features are used in a repetitive way.

In this domain, the contribution of Jean-Marie Floch, who updated the work of Heinrich Wölfflin on classical and baroque expressions, has been essential.

Note that generally, the northern European brands—Jil Sander, IKEA, Helmut Lang, BMW—and North American brands—Calvin Klein, Donna Karan, Coach—have an aesthetic of the classical type, characterized pictorially by:

• Clearly defined lines and contours, emphasizing individually recognizable elements.
• Space divided into easily identifiable zones, each with its own autonomy.
• Closed shapes, visible in their entirety: planes.
• Impressions of stability: symmetries.
• Saturated colors.

However, Mediterranean brands—Loewe, Ferragamo, Dolce & Gabbana, Rubelli, Majorica, Lamborghini, Versace, Roberto Cavalli—have a tendency toward the baroque, characterized pictorially by:

• Lines delineated by shadow effects: curves and criss-crosses.
• Open forms, which can appear accidental.
• Each part losing its autonomy and taking on meaning only in association with the rest of the work.
• Movement treated in depth: volumes.
• Chiaroscuro and deep colors.

The study conducted on Loewe in 1996 by one of the authors, who was its president at the time, in collaboration with Creative Business and Jean-Marie Floch, led to the development and the communication of the concept of a minimalist baroque aesthetic. These apparently contradictory terms met with much success in the press. In the late 1990s, this Spanish fashion brand—a century-and-a-half old and often referred to by the French as the “Iberian Hermès”—had good name recognition, associated with quality and a strong presence in Spain and Japan, but was still weak in the other markets. Struggling to achieve international status, and also suffering from the absence of a charismatic founder in its history—unlike Chanel, for example—Loewe had the appearance of a slightly tired brand. The characterization of the brand’s aesthetic effectively transmitted the message of a brand that was faithful to its roots (the baroque) and with a strong desire for modernity (minimalism, which at the time was still in vogue). That message was coherent with the recruiting of designer Narciso Rodriguez, who was himself a blend of modernity and respect for tradition.

The study of the brand ethic, however, is considerably more difficult, above all for brands that were not founded by a creator with a strong personality, or that have squandered their heritage.

Certain brands are so clearly positioned that the task is easier. Take Nike, for example. Since the appearance of its initial slogan—“Just do it”—Nike has cultivated the universal values associated with sports and the Olympic movement: surpassing oneself, determination, competition, accomplishment. Nike, remember, is the goddess of victory. This is where the brand’s ethic, its vision of the world, and what it believes are situated; “what it stands for,” to use Jean-Marie Floch’s expression.

The launch of the controversial Mecca-Cola in France in November 2002 is a very significant example of a brand that directly communicates the values underlying the ethic of its brand identity. Its bottles and the opening page of its website say: “No more drinking stupid, drink with commitment!” and “10% of our net profits, for Palestinian Children. 10% for [local] charity—an NGO.” This is clear to everyone, without the need for a semiotician to translate.

Another recently successful brand is Camper. The Spanish shoe manufacturer expresses very clearly which brand ethic it wants to promote through its slogan, “Walk don’t run”: a whole philosophy of life. Unfortunately, in succession, the initial slogan was abandoned for “imagination walk,” then “invents your reality,” in 2011 “extraordinary craft,” and finally, in 2012, “lifelovers welcome,” do not have the strength and depth of the original one.

In certain cases, setting about finding the permanent values the brand has expressed since its inception is a frustrating process. It sometimes leads, as was the case with Loewe in 1996, to recognition of the nonexistence of a brand ethic. Such a situation has an advantage in that it leaves a very broad field for the choice of credible values.

The EST-ET© Diagram

It is an immediate offshoot of the brand identity hinge. Two axes are made from the two components of the identity (ethics and aesthetics), which form a two-dimensional diagram that allows brand manifestations to be positioned on the created surface. This is the EST-ET© diagram, a diagnostic tool applicable to any brand manifestation in order to measure its adequacy with respect to the desired brand identity (see Figure 6.10).

For example, this diagram was applied in 2007 to a number of cars designed by Pininfarina in a study where the ethics and aesthetics dimensions of a project of Pininfarina brand were formalized.

The concept car, Sintesi, presented at the Geneva show in 2008 and developed according to the aesthetic and ethical invariants formalized by the study, is thus placed at the top right-hand corner of the EST-ET diagram. Sintesi is a mythical car, full of innovations, where technology has guided a design respectful of the brand values and aesthetic sensibility. At the other end, at the lower-left-hand corner of the EST-ET diagram, we find the design made for some Chinese brands, where cars have very few recognizable features of the car bodybuilder style. The diagram was applied to all manifestations of the would-be brand (ads, trade shows booth design, nonautomobile objects design, logo, calligraphy of the name, etc.) to make a full diagnosis of the brand expression consistency.

A precise definition of the axes is necessary because it determines the result. For example, the axis of aesthetics can measure:

• Consistency with the brand aesthetics
• Efficiency in the transmission of ethics
• Originality of design
• Pleasure provided, and so on

The ethical axis can be:

• Coherence with the brand identity
• Competitive relevance
• Originality, and so on

The choice of the axes is based on the relevance of the issues raised.

The Semiotic Square

After the signifier/signified hinge and the derived EST-ET diagram, a third semiotic tool can be used to make a more profound analysis of a brand’s identities: the semiotic square, of which two types were presented in Chapter 1.

When Jean-Marie Floch used it in studying Ferragamo brand identity in 1992, he was really the pioneer in the use of semiotics applied to luxury brands.10 The square has since come into wide use by advertisers, specialists in brand management, and trend agencies.

This diagram aims at describing a situation not in terms of static objects, specific events, and the like, but in terms of dynamic relations. To provide an analogy: In describing a boxing match, a commentator can concentrate on the actions, the physique, and the personality of each boxer, but can also choose to concentrate on the flux of punches exchanged (contacts, acceleration, deceleration), since the dynamics of the bout are what occupy our attention more than the identity or the presumed motivations of the fighters. Even if we know very little about the latter, this approach can still be used to describe the fight. In the same way, the power of the semiotic square lies in its ability to organize an abstract universe coherently, in spite of the fact that it is not recognized as being rational itself. It can point out meanings that are present, from a logical point of view, but latent, not yet active. It can also describe the way in which new meanings will appear.

This approach begins with Saussure’s assertion in 1916 that any system of meaning is a system of relations and not only a system of signs. These relations are established between semantic poles (a thing and its opposite form two poles united by a relation of opposition) to constitute semantic categories and axes of dynamic significance. For example, the category gender exists only to the extent that gender is articulated as a relation between masculine and feminine. Relations are considered as taking precedence over their terms, which are only the intersections of those relations.

The control of latent meanings is a primordial issue in the management of a brand and the semiotic square, developed over time by Greimas (1979), Courtès (1979), and Floch (1983), has proven its usefulness.

The most significant example of a square, one that is the starting point for numerous analyses, is the one relating to the axiology of consumption, as illustrated in Figure 6.11. This square dealing with consumption values is still much used because it gets at the primary mechanisms of all planned human action.

The two principal typologies presented on the square (utilitarian values/existential values) are taken from narrative semiotics, which distinguishes, in a narration, life values (existential, utopian, or mythic) and practical (utilitarian) values.

In any story—and especially in mythic and folkloric narratives, which are the starting point of this discipline—the life values that give meaning to the hero’s quest can be identified. These are generally values of an existential nature, corresponding to a vision of the world, a moral system, and so on. They are sufficiently universal and profound to motivate the hero’s actions: good, beauty, glory, sacrifice, love, freedom, and the like. These values are the initial justification of the narrative.

The practical values, however, are secondary and instrumental. They represent the means necessary to the hero for attaining his underlying objective, expressed in terms of existential values. An example is the hero’s search for a sword made of a magical alloy (a practical value) with which to kill the dragon and free his people (a life value).

It should be noted that this type of analysis was posited for structured stories, ones that are self-contained in a certain way. To apply the semiotic square to the analysis of brands, we must accept the presupposition that a brand can represent a microuniverse of meaning.

Once this semantic axis, consisting of two opposites (practical—or convenience—and utopian), which applies ideally to the mechanisms of consumption, is in place, the semiotic square can be used to develop all its nuances.

Each of the contrary terms can be seen in relation to another term, differentiated by the absence of the characteristics of the first. The practical corresponds to the nonpractical, that is, the diversionary, the playful, the aesthetic. The utopian corresponds to the nonutopian: the critical, the utilitarian, the practical. On the left-hand side of the square, vertically, are two propositions where the term critical or nonutopian implies what is practical and utilitarian.

The power of the square lies in its capacity to organize an abstract universe in a consistent way, even if not recognized as a rational one. It allows the emergence of existing but latent meanings and the description of the way they are going to come up.

Placing the accent on mechanisms of meaning is by no means superfluous where brands are concerned, because the problem here is that of defining the communication on which they base a large part of their relations with consumers.

We present here a study made of Salvatore Ferragamo in 1992 (Figure 6.12). It was conducted by Jean-Marie Floch and François Schwebel, who were then working with Creative Business, at a time when Ferragamo was developing its ambition to become a global brand.

The figure gives a very general and structured picture of the evolution of the brand’s positioning. It gave rise to a plan of action for products and communication. The choice made was to stress the right side of the square—the nonpractical dimension of the brand. Note than the launch of the first Ferragamo perfume, with its heavy advertising, was meant to contribute to strengthening that mythic and aesthetic dimension.

The existential/practical semantic axis has been used extensively, but it is far from providing answers to all the questions relative to brand identity. Another axis introduced by Jean-Marie Floch proved highly useful in the case of Loewe and Bally. This axis could be called authenticity/superficiality, that of perpetuating signs as opposed to producing meaning (see Figure 6.13).

Floch proposed a classification of luxury brands into two major categories: those that produce their own meaning (the substance brands) and those that exploit signs (the sign brands).

The semiotic square breaks down this basic distinction and provides a very detailed analysis of the respective positioning of all the luxury brands. Since then, many brands that desire to be seen as authentic have sought to position themselves on the upper-right corner of the square, especially those that have talented and renowned designers, such as Chanel with Lagerfeld. Brands like Louis Vuitton, Goyard, or Burberry, which make systematic use of repetitive graphic codes (monograms), are positioned on the upper-left corner. Brands like Zara, which have the talent (or business system) for reading market desires, are on the lower-left corner. Eccentric brands like Paul Smith or Moschino are located on the lower-right corner.

Brands evolve over time, and although they are all present, with varying intensity, on the four corners of the square, some may drift from one corner to another as Ferragamo did. It was originally positioned on the style corner (at the time of the founder, Salvatore) and now finds itself on the good-taste corner because of the ubiquity of the gancino (small hook) on many brand products.

In conclusion, the semiotic square has made it possible to formalize guidance concerning general positioning during the concrete projects we have had experience with. It complemented and put into perspective the lessons drawn from the hinge studies. The semiotic square, by its nature, cannot offer exhaustive analyses. It nevertheless contributes to giving in-depth perceptions of domains that are too often neglected by the traditional instruments of marketing and strategy.

Other Semiotic Analytical Models

The resources of semiotics applied to brand management are not exhausted with this initial presentation. Other instruments exist that are applicable to brands.

Semiotic Mapping

Andrea Semprini takes the original semiotic square of consumption values introduced by Floch and turns it into a more malleable and more legible tool for marketers.11

The principal semantic axis is transformed into the ordinate axis of a two-dimensional graph (Figure 6.14). All the nuances of value, from the most practical to the most utopian, can be located on this scale. The coordinate axis (critical/diversionary) intersects the preceding one to form a semiotic mapping.

The advantage that mapping has over the square is that a spatial continuity is created on which each positioning is relative to all the others. Its author rightly insists on the fact that the mapping, like the practical/utopian square, presents consumption values, not attitudes and behaviors. These individual behaviors (passion, enthusiasm, indifference, rejection, and so on) will correspond to the strategies each consumer puts into practice to pursue the consumption values.

Semprini analyzes in detail the four quadrants delimited by the two axes. The northwest quadrant is called mission: The convergence of critical and utopian values leads directly to the will to surpass the present, project toward the future, and seek innovation. It is the combination of duty and a constant striving toward different worlds. Benetton in the late 1980s (at the time of the launch of the United Colors campaign), with its billboards showing young people of all races, characterized this positioning. The brand was offering an ideal world based on new types of social relations. The Body Shop and Dove, with their commitment to natural products, are other examples of brands located in this quadrant.

The northeast quadrant, called project, conserves the willful dimension of the first quadrant, but the collective commitment is replaced by an individual quest for emotion. There is a strong propensity to embark on personal projects in the desire to find solutions to existential problems. Brands such as Swatch and Ungaro are positioned there.

In the southeast quadrant, euphoria, the convergence of diversionary and practical values is propitious for brands such as Oasis or Gillette, whose discourse is positive, reassuring, and relatively pragmatic. These are the brands that focus on the intrinsic attributes of their products: serenity, good feelings, and happiness for all. That, for example, is Calvin Klein’s Eternity perfume. A variant of this quadrant is made up of brands like Moschino that entertain using surprise, humor, and provocation.

The southwest quadrant is the most immediately understandable. At the crossroads of the practical and the critical, the values presented are resolutely linked to the quality aspects of the products offered. The essential, the advantageous, the strictly necessary, the rational, and the useful are uppermost. This is the information quadrant, where mass-retail brands such as the Wal-Mart and Kmart hypermarket chains are positioned.

Semprini also uses his mapping to analyze the brands’ discourse concerning time, space, passions, relationships, and so on. The instrument proves to be just as powerful as the square, versatile, and more flexible to use. It introduces an infinity of combinations, focuses, and differentiations of consumption values that make it possible to comprehend a significant part of the complexity of brand identity management. Figure 6.15 presents an attempt at positioning several brands.

The Narrative Scheme

The tool has less analytical power than the signifier/signified hinge and the semiotic square. It nevertheless constitutes a useful method of structuring a brand’s discourse. The present emergence of storytelling as a fashionable academic approach is making it even more relevant. This is the narrative schema, originally developed in 1928 by Vladimir Propp for analyzing Russian fairytales. Propp’s conclusions greatly influenced the work of Greimas and structural semantics. Propp’s initial schema was used by Jean-Marie Floch in his work on brands.

In narratological terms, the four episodes that make the logical sequence of any story are: contract, skills (or competence), performance or action, and sanction. In the first stage, the protagonist accepts a contract (challenge, promise, leaving to seek adventure); he or she then acquires competencies (the classic initiatory stage); in the third stage, the protagonist successfully carries out the action or program with the aid of the competencies acquired and within the framework of the system of values (contract) that defines his or her action. Finally, the protagonist is rewarded (or punished): The sanction is the measurement of performance of the initial contract. In effect, the tool is more useful for a synthesis than for an analysis.

Floch did not use such a tool by chance, since one objective of semantics is to categorize the invariant elements of any form of discourse. If a brand can be understood as a complex ensemble of projects or actions that are undertaken within the framework of a system of values, then we are, in fact, dealing with discourse, with narrative, with stories, to which the semiotic methods used by the discipline of narratology can be applied.

Two other analytical instruments derived from semiotics (the Chain of Communication and the exhaustive list of brand manifestations) are shown in Chapter 7.

Other Analytical Models

The list of analytical models presented so far is in no way exhaustive but represents the tools that we have had the opportunity to use with professional satisfaction.

We will nonetheless present another model that we find very much in tune with our postmodern times: the Rosewindow from Marie-Claude Sicard12 (Figure 6.16).

The brand is considered as a tracing (like a scar or a footprint). The model is drawn from the field of cognitive sciences, in which each situation of communication is the result of the overlapping of seven contexts, namely:

• Physical and sensory
• Spatial
• Timing/historical
• Positional (of the two actors: the customer and the brand)
• Relational (social context determining the quality of the rapport between the two)
• Normative (the cultural context of socially shared norms and rules)
• Actors’ respective and perceived intentions (called projects)

These seven contexts are then represented as seven poles of equal importance, constituting a network where any impulse on one transmits to the whole system. Brands need to play on at least three poles, with at least one in each group (tangible and not).

The more poles activated, the richer is the brand identity. Strong brands use seven out of the twenty-one possible itineraries (at least four poles). This model represents a major departure from the previously presented approaches as it maintains that the brand itself has no soul, no nucleus. It is what the brand managers (various actors) and the customers make of it. The brand identity is then made up of the most frequent itinerary taken by the brand between several poles during a meaningful period.

We mention this model for its originality; however, the absence of a core to the brand identity, as we have defined the brand ethics and aesthetics, makes it difficult to manage. Moreover, it does not define what good brand identity management should be.

We will leave aside all the other models developed by the American school around the notion of brand equity, made of economic and symbolic values, which are based largely on the perception consumers have of brands in terms of awareness, recall, recognition, and associations. We don’t use them and therefore don’t feel qualified to discuss them fully.

From the Semiologist to the Manager

Most of the instruments presented are taken directly from the discipline of semiotics. We have pointed out that such tools require that we accept the following quite reasonable hypothesis: Brands are systems of meaning.

From a manager’s perspective, the tools we have described have a decisive advantage in that they elucidate and control the brand’s discourse. And paying careful attention to this discourse and to the meanings it intends to produce is an elementary part of a responsible manager’s professionalism, and also of a responsible consumer’s vigilance, since consumers are the primary recipients of the brand’s messages.

The minimum of respect due to each of the participants—brand, managers, consumers—dictates that the brand make sense. This seems to go without saying. However, it’s also a much simpler means of being competitive. Amid the media bombardment we are subjected to today, having something interesting to say is a first condition for effective communication. In fact, semiotics and advertising have had a privileged relationship from the start. After all, what is advertising’s task if not the intentional production of meaning using signs?

All of the semiotic tools discussed must be used with an awareness of their limitations. Clearly, we can’t ask semiotics to do the following, which it is incapable of doing:

• It is never able to create.
• It cannot invent a style or a bestseller.
• It does not attempt to substitute itself for the creativity of designers and publicists.
• It is never exhaustive in its approach.
• It cannot deal with problems of management.

However, it does deal with the mechanisms of the creation of meaning, and therefore can:

• Point up the brand’s fundamental invariants, if they exist.
• Provide a framework within which everything that speaks about the brand, and therefore all its manifestations, must be situated: It determines the domain of the possible and that of the plausible.
• Manage the coherence of the different signals sent out by the brand.
• Manage the brand’s consistency between its past and present.
• Facilitate the strategic choices brand directors must make.

Semiotics is at its most effective when it is coupled with a good, in-depth trend survey on the society or the chosen consumer segments, and with good basic sales sense. In cases where semiotic analysis doesn’t initially show solid results in identifying the brand’s ethical invariants, other elements taken from market studies must be brought in. Semiology is then used to rework these elements and draw practical recommendations.

Later, we will discuss the notions of a brand’s coherence and relevance. We can say here that semiotics aids in the management of coherence but is only marginally helpful in managing relevance. Even so, it is one of the rare tools that can get away from the subjective considerations of the different players and pose the question of the brand’s identity objectively. This is in no way a guarantee of creativity, but in the context of the collectivity any company represents, that objectivity already represents considerable progress.

General Considerations on Brand Identity

Brand Identity and Consumer Identity

What is involved in the passage from identity to image? As we have stressed, identity is emissive in nature, while perception, the culmination of communication with the consumer, is receptive in nature. The two notions are independent. Between what I want to say about myself and what I get across to my recipient, a lot of shifting, pollution, interference, omission, and unconscious revelation go on. These unavoidable alterations represent the dynamic aspect of any process of communication.

The message of the brand’s identity, consequently, undergoes changing interpretations as a function of who is on the receiving end. And a brand’s discourse is aimed at winning consumers’ approval. Its relevance depends strongly on the lifestyle, customs, values, and tastes of those consumers. Like any speaker, any issuer of discourse, the brand must take into account the identity of its recipients. And since a brand hopes not only to be heard but also to be adopted by the consumer, to become one of the signs of his or her identity, the issue takes on crucial importance. Between the brand and individuals’ identities, there is necessarily a cultural identity, structured by the cultural codes of a given social group. The brands, in communicating their identities through their various manifestations, will generate what could be called social and individual representations.

This has two important consequences for brand management. First, it must be accepted that perceptions of the brand will always be multiple, and that their diversity can only increase as brand awareness increases. Second, human society changes, and so does the identity of the individuals and the cultures that make it up. To continue to speak to them, the brand must also renew itself, change its own identity, without losing its fundamental substance. It must be able to change without getting lost in the process: That is the challenge we all face each day as social beings, and it’s one that brands also face.

Single Identity/Multiple Perceptions

Codol and Tap give the following definition of an individual’s identity: “Identity is a structured, differentiated system, anchored both in a past temporality (roots, permanence), in a coordination of current behavior, and in a legitimated perspective (projects, ideals, values, and style).”13 This definition applies closely to a brand’s identity; the vocabulary is largely the same.

Psychoanalysis, anthropology, and psychosociology have all studied the notion of the individual’s identity, bringing out the intrinsic duality on which it is founded: on the one hand, personal judgment; on the other, comparison with others—in other words, the purely individual dimension versus social existence. Psychoanalysts such as Erik H. Erikson hold that identity is constructed both by internalization of cultural and social models and by the imagination of the body and its impulses. Cultural anthropology places the accent on the collective dimension of identity. It sees each culture as tending to produce personality models.

In more semiological terms, these approaches have in common the fact that they temper the idea of universal communication: I can’t really say the same thing to everyone, at least not if I hope to be understood by everyone in the same way. The perception of a brand’s identity (values, signs) is conditioned by the values, judgments, and models developed personally and in a specific environment by each individual.

Of course, we can’t take the position that each individual’s subjectivity is irreducible, either. Human society appears to be layered by many determinisms—depending on culture, region, age, income level, and so on—that can in part be elucidated. However, no matter how refined the analysis, the perception of a given message by the individual members of a given group cannot be unique. Therefore, this duality inherent in identity must be dealt with.

The generation of multiple perceptions from a single brand identity is an absolutely normal phenomenon. All brands face this reality, particularly when it comes to geographical extension. In terms of communication and creation, there are two extremes in dealing with it.

First there is monolithic management, which deals with a standardized consumer. This is the case of luxury brands, which produce a single communication campaign and collection for the entire world. Even in this case, there is still an implicit segmentation. The brand aims at an urban public who have a high income level and are fond of traveling. It relies on these strong determinisms to eclipse geographical specificities.

Then there is a more flexible form of management that adapts products or advertising campaigns to local cultures. L’Oréal is probably the best example of how cosmetic products and their relative communication can be adapted to different cultural markets. Another example that could be cited is certain liqueurs (such as cognac) for which modes of consumption vary greatly from one country to another. The automotive industry is another.

Such a range of individual and cultural identities makes all segmentations possible. Certain groups have realized this and take multiple actions in this direction (segmentation by brand, or intrabrand). The criteria are geographical, demographic, economic, and sometimes psychosocial. Mood segmentation, which breaks potential markets down according to consumers’ moods, has recently appeared.

Ms. Consumer is walking down Fifth Avenue. She feels successful and seductive, or wants to; she buys an ensemble at Christian Dior. Or she’s a little depressed, feels like a victim, not at ease with herself; Prada offers her the refuge she needs. She’s at the top of her form physically and mentally, exuberant, in love with life; Loewe can provide her with the products that reflect Spanish energy and joie de vivre. A few days later, feeling a little guilty about all the money she spent, she feels she needs to find a bargain, a product she’ll use every day, in good taste and at a reasonable price; she goes to Max Mara on West Broadway and, to soothe her shopping-tortured feet, buys a good pair of Ferragamo shoes.

Consumers have become multifaceted, very difficult to catch in the net. What’s interesting in this example is that all these images are aimed at the same consumer, who will choose one or the other according to her mood. The choice of Christian Dior, for example, will appear daring to some and frankly unreasonable to others. We are looking at the difference between brand identity and what is called brand image. The same identity crystallizes into a multitude of perceptions depending on place, social milieu, personality, or mood.

There’s nothing to be gained by fighting this diversity. On the contrary, it represents a form of wealth. It constitutes a portfolio of images, each of which enables different reactions to innovations and the risks they entail for a company. So, perceptions are multiple, but they are not unstructured and accidental. Semiology, by analyzing the mechanisms by which meaning is produced, is fully aware of the polysemy of its subjects. But this multiplicity of perceptions does not contradict the need to guarantee, upstream, the coherence of the message. The more coherent the identity, the more it lends itself to a wealth of interpretations. Messages that are vague, on the other hand, either through structural weakness or because of a desire to cover all the bases, to be an aggregate of all trends, melt away under the light of interpretation. An identity that borrows from too many categories runs the risk of collapsing under the weight of its referents.

The Need to Evolve

Coherence of identity does not mean rigidity. A brand’s identity must evolve. How many brands have disappeared because they haven’t responded to that need? The evolution of mores and sexual liberation were responsible for the initial success of Paco Rabanne, with his metal dresses; that same liberalization of lifestyles took the polish off his image, and very quickly made him more marginal than original.

A brand’s decline is an inevitable phenomenon if nothing is done to counteract it. The reasons, both internal and external, are numerous. First of all come errors in the brand’s management—loss of relevance in a market, inefficient operations, incoherent strategies, inappropriate investments, and so on. Then there is the competition, ever stronger and more battle-hardened. There is also what we call the entropy of brands. Any brand, through the wide use of its products and the repeated broadcasting of its advertising, engenders a certain demystification. It loses some of its mystery, and, thereby, part of its attraction. In the contemporary context of the race toward novelty, this wearing effect of success is more rapid than ever.

Finally, there is the evolution of the fundamental trends of our civilization: needs, fashions, technology, tastes, and so on. We often cite the example of the history of the color blue, brilliantly told by Michel Pastoureau.14 In Greco-Roman times, blue did not play a role in social, religious, or artistic life. It was hardly used by the Barbarians. It was not until the thirteenth century and the windows of the cathedral of Chartres that blue took on more importance in liturgical life.

This was because a new theology of light had developed. Light was seen as an emanation of God, the ineffable made visible. The thesis that light and color were identical in nature won out over the idea that colors are only a material artifice. Blue and gold were used to represent that light. Within a few decades, blue became an aristocratic color; it was seen in clothing, artistic creations, religious life. It became the color of the sky, then of the Virgin Mary, and finally that of kings. Blue was never to lose that importance. From the uniforms of soldiers, policemen, and postmen in the nineteenth century to the blue jeans of today, blue became the most-worn color in the Western world. It is also, before green, the favorite color of Westerners. The Japanese, on the other hand, prefer first white, then black. Tastes change with time and from country to country.

For all these reasons, a brand identity that is too rigid, defined with too many constraints or in too much detail, hampers the ability to move rapidly with the market. However, this does not necessarily imply renewing the brand’s ethical and aesthetic invariants. In fact, the need for evolution expresses itself differently in these two domains.

The need for change is greater on the aesthetic level. More than changing invariants, the need is for keeping an aesthetic in step with the tastes of the time. For example, while Loewe’s aesthetic was defined as minimalist baroque in 1996, today it can become pared-down baroque, since minimalism is disappearing from circulation. While respecting the brand’s identity, piloting creative approaches in this way allows the same diversity of offerings to customers.

As for brand ethics, there is no question of changing the basic values of the brand, but rather of putting a stronger light on those values that seem best in phase with the mood of the markets, and therefore capable of generating the best sales. Evolution does not mean ill-advised transformation of the invariants, but rather making marginal corrections, variations in focus that will stay on good terms with the markets without altering the brand’s substance. Rather than of permanent invariants, we can speak in terms of a stable continuity of brand aesthetics and ethics.

Finally, we would point out that the need for change is greater for brands whose ethics are based on fashionable values, which by definition are not permanent. In this area, there is old money and there are the nouveaux riches: Bentley or Hermès will be able to rely on a brand ethic that focuses on elitist and aristocratic values for some time to come. However, evolution will very probably be more difficult for Prada or Roberto Cavalli.

The Limits of the Concept of Identity: Strategic and Operational Implications

Throughout this chapter, we’ve made a point of defending the notion of brand identity and providing tools for getting a grasp of it. This is because we are convinced of its usefulness. Though still not a widespread concept, it is of primary importance for intelligent brand management. While necessary, this concept is not sufficient. Using a concrete example, we will now try to illustrate the areas in which it can come into play directly in order to determine its advantages and its limits.

Operational Implications

Once formalized, the brand identity represents a framework that will serve to manage all, or nearly all, of the manifestations of the brand’s existence. Figure 6.17 is taken from a real case: that of a brand of moderately priced jewelry company that launched a review of its brand identity in 1998. It shows all the operational projects that came out of that study.

A brand identity study serves first to verify the brand’s strategic positioning in relation to its competitors and its target markets, and then to provide a common language and guidelines for verification of all the brand’s manifestations:

• Products, choices made by creative departments
• Advertising campaigns, the choice of media and models
• Events, relations with the press
• The architectural concept of the stores and offices
• Display-window concepts
• Signage, labels, stationery—the signature system in general
• Salespersons’ uniforms, and so on

In short, it is a federating framework to aid in eliminating, at the outset, all elements that are incompatible with the identity.

The Place of Brand Identity in Company Strategies

If it is true that brand identity plays a central role in any communication and creation strategy, its influence is less obvious on the choices the business makes in terms of structure of the product offering, determination of prices and margins, choice of target customers, or organizational, industrial, and retailing choices. These choices, which also have an impact on the brand’s perception, must of course be taken into consideration, but the identity study alone is not sufficient to guarantee that the best decisions will be made.

The company’s strategic approach defines the scope and the limits of the brand’s identity. The overall strategy of a company can be broken down into specialized strategies (products, customers, retailing, communication, production, logistics, and organization). We can see that while the brand’s identity plays a central role in any strategy of communication, it is affected in turn by decisions made by other functions. There is no activity in a company that does not affect or reflect, in one way or another, the brand’s identity.

Figure 6.18 shows the degree of influence the logic of the brand identity should exert in the overall strategy of the company. For companies that share our approach to management of identity, the organizational implications are numerous. We will return to these later.

This degree of influence will also depend on the industries. The identity of the brand will be of more importance in the luxury industry than in consumption in purely business-to-business industrial sectors.

Limitations of the Concept of Identity

Another limitation of the concept of identity has to do with the paradox inherent in the definition of identity itself. Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary, which we cited at the start of this chapter, mentions identity as being not only the distinguishing character or personality of an individual, but also “sameness of essential or generic character.”

Sameness and generic. Identical and unique. The individual and the multitude.

Is identity, then, the state of being both unique and like another? It swings back and forth between the tendencies of the mass market toward uniformity and radical uniqueness, and probably exists only in terms of this dialectical tension.

These considerations take us back, indirectly, to the difficulty of defining and formalizing an identity that is completely independent of the way in which it is perceived, or, more precisely, of the brand director’s perception of the way in which the brand is seen by the target market segments. To try to define a brand’s identity in a closed circle, independently of considerations related to trends and to the dominant perceptions of the brand in the most significant markets, is a dangerous oversimplification.

We have seen that one of the conditions of a brand’s existence is the differentiation of its identity. This implies that a brand exists in relation to other brands from which it is different. Pepsi would not exist without Coca-Cola; Coca-Cola would probably not be as important without Pepsi. The right balance must be found between the general conditions of the market and the degrees of flexibility of the ethical and aesthetic constants.

Providing the return on investment that shareholders demand, satisfying the expectations of existing customers, but also the expectations expressed by customers of the competitors of reference (that is, the more meaningful competitors), all without losing the brand’s soul: Such are the dilemmas brand directors face every day. Ours is an anthropomorphic approach, applying the principles of identity to systems like brands, whose objectives are essentially economic. It opens up an area for more detailed research into the nature of the interfaces between brand identity and cultures and consumers’ identities, and into the mechanisms that trigger the act of purchase.

The goal of brand management being to lead consumers to buy the brand’s products, consumers must position themselves in a positive way in relation to values and an aesthetic they can perceive. Are these values that are aspired to, or ones already acquired? Is a purchase an act of affirmation, of compensation, of protest? The projection of an image of the self that is desired, or actual? We leave this field of research to other disciplines and other books.

Meanwhile, the notion of brand identity is gaining ground, and is being used more and more in the industry, advertising agencies, the media, distribution brands, politics, and the cultural worlds. Specialized university education and research programs are becoming more numerous on brand identities and their meanings.

Notes

1. Banco Sabadell newsletter, first quarter 1998, No.11. Translation by the authors.

2. Jean-Marie Floch, Sémiotique, marketing et communication: Sous les signes, les stratégies, Paris: PUF, 1990.

3. No Logo, Naomi Klein, Alfred A. Knopf, Canada, 2000.

4. Cf. W. P. Margulies, Harvard Business Review, 1977.

5. “Chrysler Sharpens Its Brand Identity,” International Business Week, November 1983.

6. D. Bernstein, Company Image and Reality: A Critique of Corporate Communications, New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1984.

7. David A. Aaker, Managing Brand Equity: Capitalizing on the Value of a Brand Name, New York: Free Press, 1991.

8. Jean-Noël Kapferer, Strategic Brand Management, New York: Free Press, 1994.

9. Our examples are simplified. We are leaving out, for example, the acoustic image (the sounds I hear in my head as I read, before forming an image), which is itself a valid level of interpretation. The signifier/signified differentiation has been the subject of complex debates, but they take nothing away from the fruitfulness of the distinction made by Saussure.

10. Jean-Marie Floch had also used the same technique in defining the layout of a hypermarket in the Lyon area in 1986. International Journal of Marketing, 4, 1998 (North Holland).

11. Andrea Semprini, Le marketing de la marque, Paris: éditions Liaisons, 1992.

12. Marie-Claude Sicard. Ce que marque veut dire, Editions d’Organisation, 2002.

13. Revue internationale de psychologie sociale, No. 2, 1988, p.169.

14. Michel Pastoureau, Bleu: Histoire d’une couleur, Paris: Seuil, 2000.