Where Is the Line? (On Advertorials and Front Page Ads)
March 9, 2010
No one would claim that the garden variety advertorial is a journalistic endeavor. Situated alongside a publication’s content, however, it can often be mistaken as real – especially if designers have taken great pains to replicate font, layout and details.
Advertorials happen. They happen all the time. Whether you think they’re effective or misleading, you probably rarely give them a second thought.
That is, until they begin appearing on your front page.
Alice In Wonderland
Historically, newspapers and magazines have held the front page as an Advertising Free Zone. It only makes sense. No one buys a publication because of the ads on the front; they look to the cover as a de facto table of contents. That’s where the impulse to purchase is created.
But with the decline in advertising revenues, publications have begun allowing more and more leeway. Small banner ads appear near the bottom of the front page. Plastic covers promote wireless services. Post-it notes offer coupons. Ads are creeping into that valuable space, precisely because it’s valuable. Precisely because magazines and newspapers can’t sell the insides as much as they once could.
So, you can imagine, if you offer a newspaper $700,000 to print a full front-page wrap, there’s a good chance they’re going to take it.
That’s what Disney did with the Los Angeles Times. The ad – a four-page wrap that mimicked the Times’ front page – was designed to “create buzz, and to extend the film’s already brilliant marketing campaign,” said John Conroy, spokesman for the Times. It also pushed the day’s headlines to a second page.
It’s not the first time the Times has slipped advertising in under the radar. Last April, an ad for NBC’s Southland gave only minimal indication that it was, indeed, an advertisement – and that was long after the “article” would have been read.
Newspapers: a Vehicle for Journalism or Advertising?
Which begs the question: where is the line? When does journalism begin and advertising end?
According to the American Society of Magazine Editors, ads and editorial content require a clear separation, and front-page ads not allowed. But when faced with the decision between selling a lucrative front cover ad and the ASME’s minimal repercussions (a letter or reprimand and exclusion from the National Magazine Awards), there’s often no more than the approval of a publisher standing in the way.
More than anything, newspaper and magazine readers place their trust in the publications they’re consuming. When ads are placed in a way that blurs the line between editorial and advertising – when advertisers seek to gain attention through deception by designing an ad that looks like real content - that trust is taken advantage of.
In other words, the content of the ads should be considered – not the location.
The Times ad reaches the news outlets because it’s on the front page. But it’s clearly an ad. It steers clear of deception simply because it’s too big to be believable. No one read that and thought, “this is a Los Angeles Times article about the movie.”
However, an advertorial clearly wants to be seen as content. Its entire premise is dependent upon a reader seeing it as an article. Posing as something it’s not, the advertorial plays upon the trust of the reader.
In other words, outrage seems to be misguided because the definition is so hazy. The line is smudged. Possibly irreparably. And it’s up to us – as advertisers and publishers – to, once and for all, redraw the line. Clean it up. Set some standards.
The balance, really, stands between editorial honor and the need to keep the lights on. We can take sides, fighting against either the stuffiness of journalistic integrity or the demons of advertising greed. But both sides have their arguments. Because without determining where that line is – the line between honorable content and the advertising that helps pay for it – we may lose the trust of our readership.
On How NOT to Request Attention on the Internet
December 9, 2009
One of the first marketing mistakes I ever made happened early. It had to do with this blog, Post Haste. And, it had to do with my naivety in regards to other people’s time.
I had convinced our partners that we should develop a company blog. Very few other marketing agencies in our area had blogs, and it was time to take a dive into the ever-expanding world of Internet marketing and social media.
Searching for an audience – and looking forward to a jaunty dialog with our naturally intelligent readers – I developed a “Look At What We’ve Done!” e-mail. I sent it to every marketing and advertising blogger I could find. I said, essentially, why I thought our blog was great.
I gave them a look at something new. But I failed on one major level.
I never told them why it mattered to them.
Of the 100+ e-mails I sent out, I received only a handful back. Some were congratulatory. Some were dismissive.
One really stood out. The name doesn’t matter – I can’t remember it, anyway – but the tone was distinct.
It chastised me for asking people to care without offering a benefit. It hounded me for blindly grasping for attention - not by participation and discourse, or by giving anything of substance (because, at this time, there was very little on the blog), but by the assumption that I deserved it.
It taught me an important lesson: no one cares until you give a reason to care.
Fast forward to today.
A magazine I’ve never heard of sends me an e-mail. They assume I’m willing to help them pre-promote an upcoming issue. They open with a salutation of “Dear Blogger.” There is no mention of what I’m getting out of the deal, or why I should care.
I see this e-mail, and I see a little of myself that first time around, when I was promoting Post Haste by sidestepping relationships and blindly throwing darts, hoping some would stick.
It’s the same as sending out press releases that make more work for a journalist, or – even worse – assume a store promotion is real news.
It’s the same as blanket spamming a thousand Twitter users with a new e-commerce site.
It’s the same as knocking on my door, asking me to tell all of my friends about your product, and then leaving without even acknowledging my time.
And I know from experience. It’s not impressive. And it doesn’t work.
Another batch of Wolff Olins snake oil
November 23, 2009
AOL (or, I guess, Aol.) revealed a new logo treatment today.
You can look elsewhere to see what the overall consensus is. (My take: What. A. Joke.)
That being said, there’s a bit of inconsistency that proves Wolff Olins’ ability to b.s. their way through a logo design.
“Historically brand identity has been monolithic and CONTROLLING, little more than stamping a company name on a product. AOL is a 21st century media company, with an ambitious vision for the future and new focus on creativity and expression, this required the new brand identity to be open and generous, to invite conversation and collaboration, and to feel credible, but also aspirational.” said Karl Heiselman, CEO of Wolff Olins.
Their solution, naturally: stamp the company name onto a handful of stock images.
Come on, guys. After the London 2012 debacle, don’t you think we should be trying a little harder? I mean, THE LEAST YOU COULD DO is make sure the fluffy, inspirational quote defending your work isn’t at odds with the nature of the work itself.
In These Tough Economic Times, PLEASE say something different.
October 29, 2009
Yeah, we’re all probably in the same boat. Absolutely sick and tired of being reminded of our financial crises, constantly inundated with “In These Tough Economic Times…” and “We Could All Use A Little Good News…” Frustrated beyond relief when the familiar pangs of mood music and serious voice over remind us how a company is going to buck the system by staying close to its roots, as if GM could really change this whole thing by releasing a hybrid vehicle.
So it’s always cool to see someone take the tired “save money during a recession” message and do something cool with it.
Like this Volkswagen guerrilla campaign for the new BlueMotion line of vehicles.
The gist: The European map on a batch of Euro banknotes is stamped with a representation of how far you’d get based on the banknote’s denomination. How far would you get with 50 Euros? It’s right there on the banknote.
Then, they released the bills throughout German VW dealers, service shops, etc.
And they did it all without falling back on tired clichés. Which, even without the awesomeness of the idea, gets a whole fist full of thumbs up from me.
UX by MTLB
September 8, 2009
We’ve been thinking about the cross between impressive technology and customer usability a lot around the HenkinSchultz offices as of late.
So it’s a pretty awesome surprise that my good friend (in a strictly “blogging-on-the-same-Internet” sense) Bill Green of Make the Logo Bigger summarizes the User Experience discussion in a series of Pac-Man and vehicle side mirror analogies.
From “Why is this user experience [swear word] so hard?”
However, if I want to incorporate more features into my Facebook page, the effort it’s taken hasn’t been worth it. A simple thing like incorporating YouTube videos or my Flickr account has been a major pain. I’ve wasted so much time with what I thought “should” be an easy task, and still not gotten it right.
It’s like Pac Man: I just need to get from Point A to Point B, but instead, I have to do a bunch of stuff first and avoid some very bad things along the way.
Cue endless pokes and virtual beers thank you very much.
(If Pac Man isn’t to your liking, then how about this metaphor: Trying to do something on Facebook is like entering your front door by first going through the garage, then walking around the house.)
Read the rest here. And rock on, Bill Green. Keep fighting the good fight for all of us.
Whale Insurance
June 12, 2009
This might be older, but I’ve seen a lot over the past few weeks.
Uh… Er…
Okay. So I understand the value of building your brand. And I certainly get making your logo memorable. I applaud the use of simple image branding.
But… Uh…
Well, I guess I’m wondering - what am I missing here?
Because if you take the copy out of this spot (and let’s face it - the copy is no more than a logo and “Mutual Funds, Annuities, Life Insurance”) I challenge anyone to understand what the blankety-blank this company is trying to sell.
Whale-watching tours? Life jackets? Pacific Ocean cruises? Moby Dick? OH, WHAT… LIFE INSURANCE?
Is it life insurance FOR WHALES, AT LEAST?
One Step Away from Creepy
May 8, 2009
I mean, I love Coke’s Happiness Factory spots, and I love Coke’s dedication to the feeling of their product (as opposed to Pepsi’s dedication to fitting into a specific demographic with a revolving door of logos, juxtaposed messages and awful tasting soda.)
(Full disclosure #1: I’m a Coke person. Our whole building seems to be, actually - it’s our fridge soda of choice at HenkinSchultz.)
But, come on Coke. Your new spots are original and fun, but they’re treading really close to creepy. It’s one thing to be a Flaming Lips fan. It’s another to actually be Wayne Coyne, smearing fake blood on your face during a concert and walking over the crowd in a giant bubble.
(Full disclosure #2: I do really like this spot.)
Dr. Bogusky, Or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Client
April 30, 2009
Bribed to Sioux Falls by the promise of a Jackalope, Alex Bogusky—partner at CP+B, as if you didn’t know—enlightened our advertising community during today’s South Dakota Advertising Federation luncheon.
And his insights no doubt raised a few eyebrows and ruffled a few midwestern feathers.
In complete command of the limelight, Alex proved his ability to always do things differently—and effectively. He took control of VVI’s Toby Kane’s interview, cracked jokes about the diminutive projectors and marveled over how the AV guy always seems to get it wrong, no matter how much he’s rehearsed.
But his presence was felt even more with his message. With ideas on the power of account executives over creatives, delusional positivity, and the ease of social change, Bogusky examined the client relationship, remarking that there’s no wonder clients don’t trust our ideas when we always seem to discount theirs.
If we present work that will only garner us awards and solves none of their business problems, it’s only natural that our clients will pick the crappiest version of what we present, seemingly saying, “Up yours, XYZ Agency. You didn’t even solve my problem.”
When we don’t embrace changes (or, at least, position them as opportunities to push the creative further) we are only punishing ourselves. As Alex said, “Clients can’t be punished. You think you’re punishing them by giving them the crap work, but you’re not. You’re only punishing yourself, your work, and your agency.”
So what do we do?
It’s a simple answer, but a difficult process. That’s where delusional positivity comes in; because it’s hard, we have to keep each other up as much as possible—especially when it’s hardest. We need to reevaluate the way we approach our clients. Listen to their requests. Get jazzed about their perspective.
Start loving the process, not the end result.
In doing so, we can work together with more heart. As partners. It was never meant to be agency and creative versus client. Instead, it should be agency and creative plus client, each party embracing the inevitable changes with gusto.
Huh. AC+C. That structure looks familiar.
Beach Side Property
April 10, 2009
I’ll be the first to say that certain variable data applications can be pretty cool.
For example: I received a postcard in the mail from a local Realtor for a house that had just hit the market. The back highlighted the features, with an image of the house. The front was this:

It’s a neat little bit of technology. See the boats? They’re in the shape of my name!
But… Er…
This home is in Sioux Falls. Not the luxurious beaches of the Mediterranean.
It’s not enough to just throw out a cool image with cool technology. It has to, you know, fit. It’s not enough to know how – you have to know why, as well.
What the Washington Generals taught me about working on boring projects
April 7, 2009
It’s been your dream. Every since you were a little kid, you’ve worked your way toward becoming a basketball star. You’ve developed your skills. You’ve worked on your jumper, your strength, your moves. You went through college on scholarship, not the star but a solid piece of the puzzle.
You weren’t drafted. You graduated. And not wanting to lose the dream, you looked for an outlet. Europe? The minor leagues?
And then you settled for what could be the most humbling job in basketball. You’re a guard for the Washington Generals.
Your job is to make the Harlem Globetrotters look good. You have the task of tanking, of losing night after night, with no respite from the constant barrage of ill will. Your job is to lose. And, as long as you’re a member of the Generals, you’ll never win.
It’s a concession you make in order to keep your dream alive. You lose so you can play.
Watch as I switch gears.
In all aspects of marketing – especially between an agency and a client – there’s a fine balance between art and function.
As marketing experts, we work for our clients. We hope to enjoy a loose relationship – one that produces the best results from both a creative and functional side. It’s a relationship, and without buy-in on both sides it won’t work.
With this in mind, we have to realize that – as marketers, and especially for those of us on the creative side – we aren’t in the position to be the Harlem Globetrotters every time.
Depending on budgets, or time frame, or the needs of the project, there are times when we don’t get to experience an environment of free art, where the functionality of a project is secondary to its beauty. Where our duty to the client and their requests weighs a little higher than our individualistic need to impress.
It’s not a popular view – especially from the creative community – but there are times when our talents are best used being precise and pointed. When our flourishes and the newest trends and a desire to be unique gets in the way of the basics of the project. An HR ad. A storefront sign. An application form.
In other words, we all got into this business to be creative and artistic and ground breaking, but sometimes we just need to realize the basics and use our talents to create the best, hard-working products we can.
Sometimes, we need to realize that not every job can win an award. But every job can be done right, to the best of our ability.
I need to remind myself of this constantly. That I love writing, but sometimes I can’t write what I want. Sometimes I have to roll up my sleeves and accept the job as it’s presented, hoping to fill the cracks with some wordsmithing but otherwise working straightforward, true to the style; creating a perfectly crafted wooden bowl instead of the crystal chalice I had hoped.
It’s just part of the business. We create. We solve. We succeed. And we leave it to the next project to try to be the Globetrotters.


