People like to buy from people.

Is this too obvious to state? If it is, then why don’t more companies apply it to their marketing?

Quick quiz: Think ice cream for a moment.

Whose image do you like better? Haagen-Dazs’ or Ben & Jerry’s? Ninety-nine percent of the time people will say, “Gimmie Ben & Jerry!”

Why? We can put a face to the B&J boys. Or maybe it’s their story of them scraping together $12k and launching an ice cream company from an abandoned gas station in Vermont.

But H.D. has a great story too:

Eight-year-old boy comes to America in 1921. He works in his mom’s ice cream business selling fruit ice and ice cream pops from a horse-drawn wagon in the bustling streets of the Bronx, New York. In 1961, Reuben Mattus, forms a new company dedicated to his ice cream vision and calls it Haagen-Dazs, to convey an aura of the old-world traditions and craftsmanship. There’s a story there … but it’s buried on their home page.

We’re relational creatures. We want to know what people look like, we want to know who we’re buying from, we like knowing the story behind it. (Even with my bland telling of the H.D. story above you probably feel a bit warmer toward them, don’t you?)

Do you think Iaccoa appearing in all those old Chrysler ads helped turn the company around back in the 80s? Uh, yeah.

How this applies to individuals:

It surprises me the number of personal Web sites and blogs that don’t show a picture of the owner. It’s the first thing I look for. I want to know who I’m dealing with.

On my personal Web site, Jim Rubart.com, you have to click once to see what I look like. On He Blogs, She Blogs you can peek at Laura and me along the right hand column almost instantly.

Make sure we can see you, and find out what you’re about. I think we’ll like you.

Tags: Advertising, Ben & Jerry's, Haagen-Dazs, Marketing

Jim asked: “What’s the best piece of copy you’ve seen lately?”

The one I’m about to show you–from the world-famous Herbfarm in Woodinville, WA–arrived in the mail several months ago. I kept it because it’s so intriguing and well-written. Here’s the first page of the 2-page letter (my comments will follow):

Laura’s comments:

First of all, if you’re unfamiliar with The Herbfarm , it is the only AAA 5-Diamond restaurant in the Pacific Northwest. My hubby and I went there for our 25th anniversary, and we marveled over the nine-course meal (yes, I said NINE courses), accompanied by SIX wine pairings (I strongly recommend booking a night’s stay in the adjacent Willows Lodge).

Why I read this letter
I toss 99.9% of all direct mail advertising immediately into my recycling bin, but I opened this letter (probably to see if The Herbfarm was gonna offer me a great deal on another meal, because the place is darn spendy).

The hook
They had me at “The Red Wheelbarrow,” my favorite William Carlos Williams poem. My eyes roved straight from the short poem (note the poem’s larger font size and contrasting color) into the body of the letter.

“Dear Friend.”
Not a great start. They should have personalized it with my name.

“Dumb cluck? Or dumb luck? Who can say for sure.”
Punchy, one-line lead. Intriguing play on words.

The story.
Personal, conversational, interesting. Fresh phrases, “pidgin chickenese” and “yolks were molten gold” put me right there, with the writer.

The back page.
Chicken and egg analogy leads into an explanation of how they raise their own food (”we gather our own eggs, churn our own butter, age and cure our own meats,” etc. etc.)

The appearance.
Heavy bond, off-white paper printed in two colors. Classy font. The 1.5 spacing between lines gives my aging eyes breathing room.

The pitch.
When I finished the letter, I considered booking another reservation right then and there. (I didn’t; they “forgot” to enclose a coupon for $100 off. Maybe Jim and I can host our company “picnic” at The Herbfarm…whaddya say, Jim?)

The payoff.
I kept the letter, and I’m sharing it with you. Maybe you’ll book a reservation at The Herbfarm, based on my recommendation (the food is to die for).

Now you try it.
Compose your own direct mail marketing piece for one of your products or services.

• How do you want it to look? (size, shape, length, colors, type font, graphics)
• How do you want it to sound? (first person “I” point of view? Second person “you”? Or third person? Should your tone be cozy, homey, brash, enlightening?)
• How will you hook readers in the first line?
• How will you make the sale at the end of the piece?

Give it a shot right here in the Comments area. We promise to write back with our feedback.

Tags: Advertising, Herbfarm, Marketing, Writing, writing compelling copy

I get paid to write ad copy: Radio spots, TV spots, Web sites, brochures, one sheets, etc.

So do you. (Get paid to write copy.)

You think if you’re not in advertising you don’t write copy? And don’t get paid for it? Sorry. EVERYTHING you write is copy.

Whether it’s an e-mail, a letter, a proposal, a note to your husband, wife, kids, friends it’s copy … and you get paid; poorly if you’re boring people–making them skip over your words–or paid well if you entertain them, or give them pertinent info or inspire them.

How do you start writing better copy? Look for it everywhere. Collect the pieces you like.

During a layover last month in Salt Lake City I treated myself to a heart-attack-on-a-bun at the airport Burger King. I saved the bag ’cause I liked the copy.

Why?

It stands out in a sea of bland fast food copy. There’s a distinct voice to it, an attitude. Made me smile. And I’ll probably think of Burger King a bit more fondly in the future.

What’s the best piece of copy you’ve seen lately?

Tags: Advertising, Marketing, writing compelling copy