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Editorial SeductionJuly 12, 2006 In the Seasonally Occupied Territories, it takes some ingenuity to find out what the occupying forces are up to. Many of them live down long dirt roads and their houses are girded round about with locked gates and electronic security systems. We don't get invited to their parties, but we -- or our friends and cousins and colleagues of co-workers -- do work for their caterers or their contractors or their landscapers, so word gets around. Maybe it's distorted or embellished or garbled in the transmission, but who cares? It's more fun, and more interactive, than reality TV. Yesterday an item in the online Boston Globe caught my eye. All it takes to catch my eye is a reference to Martha's Vineyard: rolling my eyes, I immediately click on the link, wondering what they're trying to pass off to their readers as the real Martha's Vineyard. (If "the real Martha's Vineyard" ever stood up, the scene would be cacophonous and crowded.) "Martha's Vineyard Summer House lets companies pitch their products to editors in a luxury setting," read the link text; "Advertisers forgo usual pitches to woo editors in Vineyard vacation house." Clearly this was not about "the real Martha's Vineyard," either the Globe's version or mine. This was about the opportunists who follow in the army's wake. I saw, I clicked; I read.
You've heard of eco-tourism? This is promo-tourism, and it's a better deal for the tourists than most other kinds of tourism because the tour company foots the entire bill. The tour company -- a Boston marketing firm -- drives the "guests" from New York City "in a limousine stocked with Magic Hat beer, Westport wines, and vitamin water." ("Vitamin water"? I really am out of it. What the hell is vitamin water? And while we're at it, "stylist" was new to me till I read on and noted the reference to "stylists from MTV and VH1 who dress celebrities and pick products to place in their own shows.") The guests stay free at the Summer House, where they are exposed to sponsored products literally wherever they turn, from the kitchen (potato chips, and of course all that Magic Hat beer) to the bedrooms (sandals and slippers), the bathrooms (brochures pushing disposable cleats -- "you don't need to buy golf shoes ever again"), and the garage ("hydration packs" -- water bottles? -- and bicycle storage racks). They also participate in typical Vineyard vacation activities. The Globe article notes: "Planners refused to let company publicists visit the Vineyard haunt, instead letting professional athletes lead bike rides and tennis clinics" -- using sponsored bicycles and sponsored tennis rackets, of course, and presumably plenty of those hydration packs. The orchestrating company pushes the Summer House (and the Winter House, which will happen in January near Salt Lake City) to potential clients as an "experiential marketing opportunity." Marketing it is; and you certainly can't fault a marketing firm for marketing, or manufacturers for promoting their products. The queasy-making links in the marketing chain are the editors who come to the Summer House, all expenses paid not by the magazines that employ them but, directly and indirectly, by the merchants who are trying to win their favor. Says one of them: "Any time there's an experience like this -- you're likely to view products in a somewhat more favorable light." But of course. This is why, as the article noted, "Some editors declined the invitation because their publications prohibit such sponsored trips, to avoid the appearance of selling favorable coverage." Another participant appreciates the Summer House as "a chance for me to interact with the products outside the office without being surrounded by PR people. Their job is to be that bird that whispers in my ear, and my job is to basically swat the bird away." What this fellow seems to have missed is that he's been driven all expenses paid right into the birdcage -- where, it seems, the birds are a good deal less pesky. Susan Fournier, assistant professor of marketing at Boston University's School of Management, is quoted in the Globe story: "People want to hear from nonmarketing sources more than ever as distrust of advertisements has grown," she said. "This is the crossing of product placements with gatekeepers of the media and celebrity stylists -- it's really revolutionary in a lot of ways, and very powerful." Nonmarketing sources?? An editor goes home and runs a review or a news item about one of the products he's been exposed to at the Summer House. Is that review or news item really a "nonmarketing source" of information? Of course not. It only looks like one, and only to people who don't realize how many news items in their favorite newspapers and magazines were produced by the PR departments of the products they're pushing. Distrust of advertisements has grown for sure, and with good reason. The smart marketing solution is advertisements that don't look like advertisements; hence the importance of placing one's products in TV shows and movies, and of getting editors to run reviews that appear to offer an independent and unsolicited judgment -- as opposed to ads, which are obviously bought and paid for. For the marketers, this is a no-brainer: if conventional ads are losing their effect, devise ads that don't look like ads. They're motivated, they're resourceful; they're doing a great job. The result is that for years distrust of advertisements has been expanding to include printed, broadcast, and televised media generally. With adept handlers the most incompetent and/or corrupt politician can come across as upright and astute. Don't blame us if we're just a tad skeptical when an apparently upright and astute candidate throws his or her hat in the ring.
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