This is a personal story of brand confusion. The experience was brought to mind by a recent New 
Yorker column, by the always-excellent James Surowieki, titled “Twilight of the Brands.”
My wife and I, having recently moved into a new home with a longer driveway and a larger yard, needed to buy a snow blower and a lawn mower. I was considering Ariens, both because it’s an American company and its products are made in America, and because I’d had a good past experience with the brand.
So I hied myself to our local outdoor-equipment center. They carried the Ariens snow blower, though the model I wanted now came with an engine made in China, the reliability of which the salesman couldn’t vouch for. They didn’t carry the Ariens lawnmower, though they did have a Husqvarna model, which the salesman explained was made at the same South Carolina plant as the Ariens. Actually, I later found out the American Ariens is now owned by the Swedish Husqvarna.
Who’s on brand?
So the American brand made in America is actually owned by a Swedish company and may or may not come with a Chinese engine. That got me wondering: What makes me loyal to the brand? I’m no longer entirely certain who owns it, where its products are made, how the brand is part of or distinct from the parent company, or which of its products are still reliable.
This is hardly a situation unique to me or to Ariens. As brands, business relationships, and supply chains become ever more global and interconnected, and as parts, components, and products are sourced from ever more indeterminate places, the whole notion of brand is changing.
In many industries, for many products, the brand is less the physical company, less the physical products, possibly even less the people behind it, than it was in the past. What, then, is the brand?
In Surowieki’s view, brands are outmoded. “Brands have never been more fragile,” he says. “The reason is simple: consumers are supremely well informed and far more likely to investigate the real value of products than to rely on logos.”
In the past, the logo was a shorthand indicator of the good—or poor—quality of the product. Today, customers have other means of obtaining that knowledge. In fact, 80 percent of consumers now research most products online before buying, says PwC. “The rise of social media has accelerated the trend to an astonishing degree,” Surowieki points out. “A dud product can become a laughingstock in a matter of hours.”
Dead or redefined?
Having spent more than two decades in marketing communications, I’m far from convinced the brand is dead. But surely it needs rethinking.
Companies are well-aware of this fact. It’s why businesses like Life Is Good are redefining themselves as “lifestyle brands” built around less product-oriented and more emotional qualities such as “optimism.”
That approach has long worked well for luxury brands like Rolex or Mercedes-Benz. I may buy the $50 L.L.Bean backpack because I assume it will perform well. But I’ll spring for the $2,000 Salvatore Ferragamo briefcase mostly because it “performs” on a different level.
But what about brands that want to reach a broader audience? Fifteen years ago, Starbucks was a provider of “premium” coffees and a “café experience” with a decidedly aspirational appeal. Today, if my local Starbucks is any indication, you’re likely to see a high-school student, a plumber, a business executive, and a retiree all lined up for a latte. Can the brand possibly represent the same emotional value for all of them?
I did end up buying the Ariens/Husqvarna snow blower and lawn mower, by the way. And I can assure you I researched them thoroughly online before I made that decision. But what does the brand mean to me? What does the brand mean to you?