Under new management
Lately I’ve been having this uncanny feeling. Certain things appear as they’ve always been, while others seem to have changed overnight. This is what it’s like to be a customer of a brand that has recently been acquired.
You know, like going into Whole Foods in the age of Amazon ownership or buying an Alaska Airlines ticket but then boarding a Virgin America plane.
These companies may be taking different approaches to branding under new ownership, but I’m still left with a singular impression: There has to be a better way.
I don’t shop at Whole Foods much, so the changes implemented after the Amazon purchase didn’t feel all that gradual to me. One day, I went in and all the employees were wearing bright blue aprons — to match the spinning “Prime” promotional signs hanging from the ceiling. These may seem like minor things, but they’re really not.
A brand is defined, at least in part, by everything it isn’t. Creating brand experiences is an exercise in restraint. You can think of it like the intentional subtraction of everything that isn’t essential. The noise.
The grocery stores I remember as a child were full of this. I’m talking about visual noise. Looking down an aisle was an affront of promotional signage, busy displays, bad fluorescents, loud colors, and, at least in memory, elevator music.
One of the things Whole Foods brought to the equation was a unified aesthetic, one that was downright minimal compared to what had come before. I don’t recall ever seeing a single spinning ceiling promo.
This is why my recent trip to Whole Foods was so startling. See, the aprons weren’t just dark green because the logo was dark green. The dark green was intentional. It set a tone.
Ihave never bought a company before. But I’d have to think at least part of that transaction is based on perceived value. And that part of that perceived value is based on how people feel about the brand. It turns out, this brand value is often non-transferable.
People preferred Whole Foods or Virgin America for the ways these companies created experiences that felt different in very specific ways. Things they hadn’t liked about other grocery stores or airlines, even if only at a subconscious level, were suddenly gone. And it was a purposeful absence. You may not have noticed these things, but they left an impression nonetheless.
On the last few flights I’ve taken, I had an Alaskan Airlines ticket and a Virgin America crew. It was neither an Alaskan experience or a Virgin one. At one point, the attendants were complaining about all the new changes being implemented. In their view, efficient systems and processes were being replaced with ones that made the experience worse—for themselves and for passengers. “I’m supposed to care, but I don’t,” I heard one of the attendants say.
If you’re acquiring something with any real brand value, almost any change you implement is going to dismantle that value. But it’s possible to own something without changing it. Being different gets you somewhere and being consistent keeps you there. There is something refreshing about diversity in an era when it feels like every company is trying to be the same company, with the same products, features, and interfaces.
When you go to the Beats website, you aren’t automatically redirected to Apple. Volvo was bought by Ford in the 90s and is now owned by Chinese car manufacturer Geely. But Volvos are still Volvos. Sometimes the best way to keep a good thing going is to just leave it be.
