• I grew up doing a lot of retail stuff. Three supermarkets, one purveyor of furniture, beds, white goods…I've done a bit.

    Retail_customer_experience

    Not all of it was pretty, but itwas never dull. Having a certain marketing controller call you a twat on the phone at 7pm for getting the wrong price in a script, only to have him send a crate of wine the next day when he realised he was reading the wrong one, cannot be termed as boring.

    You learned fast, you had to. You learned by doing..at one point me and another account manager we're opening 7 new supermarket stores, running the kind of TV shoot that needs four helicopters and making sure around 200 press ads went out every single week without a typo or wrong price. The account director was off on paternity leave at the time.

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    Despite the 'down and dirty' reputation of retail (come on, admit it, you think retail's easy. It's all reactionary, no thinking, just do what you're ordered week in, week out), I think a background in it makes a planner, or anyone else in agency land for that matter, better placed for the future than most.

    In retail, you're judged on nothing but results. Not just long term brand measures, quarterly tracking dips and such, you're judged week in, week out on sales and footfall, at the granular level of product lines, regions, even singular product.

    There is no where to hide when the results don't come it, you have to be ready for everything. Someone very wise said that the future is about 'always being in beta', and he's damned right. More and more, brands will be about experience, interaction and 'doing'.

    But planning for retail has always been like. The US Army has a saying that no plan survives contact with the enemy, well very few retail plans survive the bank holiday footfall figures.

    Us_army

    In short, you have to make people DO stuff, not just think or feel.

    Bad retailers just react, constantly lurching this way and that, with no long term vision or plan. Woolworths fell apart in my view because they forgot what they existed for. But good retailers have a good, flexible vision, a role in life, they know what they want to do for their customers beyond sell them enough to hit their targets.

    But they realise that they will be buffeted by more variables than other business model. Economic shocks hit them first of course, minute changes in buying culture, price sensitivity hit them first. But so does the weather too. They're constantly engaged with a version of 'game theory' with their competitors.

    They have to think far beyond simply weaving emotional or cultural meaning into a product. In a world where brands are like a basketball – all the bumps on a brand that help their customers grip them, retailers are exposed more that others. Own label, POP, checkouts, staff culture, car parks, e-commerce, customer services, delivery, vans…..all of it matters, there's far more to get right.

    Right now, agencies, their planners and their brands are getting used to having much more flexible ideas that touch different audiences in different ways. They're getting used to terrifying viral nature of the web and reacting quicker, trying lots of little things more often and learning by doing. They're used to having a great vision and always experimenting and learning, moving, chopping and changing within that vision all the time.

    That's what planning for retail has always been about. It's about Sainsbury's 'Try something new today' working for a home made gourmet meal and being able to say, "Feed your family for a fiver". It's about Ikea being able to make us "Chuck out our chintz" and also make "Home the most important place in the world" when things are scary.

    So that's why someone who's sweated blood (you always do) over retail is best placed for a world where you need both a big vision and the skills to react, develop, change and act very, very quickly.That's what they were already doing.

  • A long time ago, back when the internet was still something only a few scientists and computer geeks used, when John Major was Prime Minister, Clinton hadn't soiled that dress and millions of young (and not so young boys) avidly sat down on an early Saturday evening to enjoy a Terri Hatcher in Superman and lots of slow motion lifeguards in Baywatch, I was a malingering politics student.

    Baywatch

    Time was pretty much divided up between drinking, swimming, eating and studying; in exactly that order. There was daily training sessions in the swimming pool, land training with the rowers (I always won the bleep test) and a ridiculous amount of time spent in the gymn.

    Now I've never been the most self-confident of people, I certainly wasn't then. You know that song, 'Ask' by the Smiths? That was me, and largely still is. I got to meet girls through sport (most of my teen girlfriends were swimmers, they had bigger shoulders than me) an thanks to a training ground of growing up with two older sisters, having a few girls as best  friends and having the introductions done for me…

    So when I saw this girl in our gymn for the first time, it was torture. She was perfect…way out of my league, but our eyes kept meeting. Every time she looked up, she caught me looking, every now and again, the Spidey Sense would kick in, I'd feel like I was being watched and catch her stealing a glance. Could I go up and talk to her? Could I hell.

    Weeks went by with the almost daily torture. Then it got worse. One day I walked through reception to find her on the desk where you swiped your gymn pass, she'd got a bloody job to pay for beer ro whatever. Now, at least twice a week, there was a meek hello from me, a similar muted greeting from this girl I was sure liked me, but could never talk to. I'd walk past the desk, face burning, suddenly feeling clumsy, tongue tied and useless.

    Then the day came, in a walked. She smiled at first, then the welcoming expression faded to indecision, before lighting up again. She's thought of something to say, to break the ice, to take pity on both me and her. 'Nice top' she commented. Observing the comely nature of my hoodie. 

    I cannot describe the rush of relief, my response would be an easy one, before asking her if she played a sport or just wanted to keep fit, ask her what course she did, ready to listen intently to her every word. Mike and Darren were with me, I could sense their relief, bored as they were with the whole saga, sick to death of endless nights out where Dutch Courage could have provided the impetus for finally seizing the day.

    So, my first words to her, beyond "Hello", or "Goodbye" came out.

    "Thanks, it's from Gap".

    Her eyes lowered, she looked at once embarrassed and confused, not knowing what to say. Mike and Darren looked on with a potent cocktail of horror, derision and sympathy. I looked down and realised why. This is what the sweatshirt looked like:

    Gap 

    She quietly responded, "I know". Face crimson, head hung in shame, I legged it into the gymn, followed by my bastard comrades quietly giggling.

    We never attempted contact again, left to wonder what might have been. And that my friends, is what it's like to be The Northern Planner.

    And why I hate Gap.

    1. Who's worse, the people who makeHello/Closer/National Enquirer/Heat magazines or the fact people buy them?
    2. Am I good enough for xxxx(insert appropriately)
    3. What would my childhood have been like if there was no Star Wars?
    4. If I could read everyones thoughts, how much would it change what I think of them? What would they think if I could read mine.
    5. What's it like to be a woman?
    6. If there was a pill to cure baldness, would I use it?
    7. Will I be as good a father to my child as mine is to me?
    8. Will I ever be able to make a curry that tastes like a take-away
    9. How can an electron be in more than one place at a time? How can anyone possibly begin to understand this?
    10. What am I doing?
  • Stork-baby 

    There really is nothing I can add to this. Nothing can describe what it feels like so I won't even try. Funny how words are sometimes not nearly enough.

  • I have one suit and that's it. It's a good one, bought for my wedding. It's cut to be quite fitted, it makes me look taller.

    Every now and then it gets trotted out for other people's weddings, christenings and the like, but that's it. But I love wearing it, it's nice to dress up every now and then, pretend to be a grown up, feels special in a way wearing suits every day just don't. That's when they become a uniform.

    You certainly won't find me wearing it for work; I'm the quintessential planning cliche, that calculated shambolic look. Pretty soon I'll be too old for the ironic t-shirts and trainers but not right now.

    But last week, Claire and I had a particularly important meeting. It mattered, the work was great, we'd worked hard. But sometimes being prepared isn't enough, you need an added boost. So we power dressed, we sarcastically smart.

    The suit came out, I came as Don Draper. Claire was a beautiful picture of Madison Avenue perfection.

    Draper

    And I wasn't just dressed as Don Draper, I BECAME him. The meeting went swimmingly, I got back to the agency and simmered with untold depths. It felt great to become someone else for a day (even if I didn't have a three Martini lunch or take advantage of any quivering dames).

    That's the thing about dressing up and using clothes to play with your outward identity, it doesn't just alter the outside. To have depths, you must have a surface……what you do to that surface affects what happens underneath. It's primal, it's Darwinian – we've evolved to believe that looks are signifier of fitness, we show the world an image of ourselves we want to project and they respond in kind.

    Superheroes2

    That's why superheroes are alter egos of their normal selves. Bruce Wayne only becomes the Dark Knight when he puts on the mask, Peter Parker is struggling, awkward, shy photographer until he puts on the suit. Superman is even more interesting – his natural state is superhero, his costume is actually human clothes – and he BECOMES a feckless, clumsy oaf.

    Disguise is incredibly liberating, it enables you to become different people. In fact scratch that, it lets you disover a part of yourself you didn't know was there. That's why it's a little silly to mock anyone with an interest in clothes and their appearance – what is more liberating and interesting than playing with your identity? What could be more fun?

    As David Vreeland puts it, "Fashion must be the intoxicating release from the banality of the world".

    There is no point watching 22 men kick an inflated ball around a field, sometimes getting it between two sticks. There's no point spending hours reading hundreds of pages of lies. But football and fiction books provide incredible pleasure, they provide an escape from our mundane lives.

    Clothes, shoes, hair and the like are just as pleasurable and even more powerful. It's being allowed to dream for a second, to escape the narrow confines of what life has dealt you and explore. To feel alive, to feel more than you are, or even just acknowledge your potential.

    And what is wrong with doing something that makes you really happy? Like Belsen.

    Anyway, more to the point, who should I pretend to be next (not GI Jane Andy).

  • Since Andrea asked, this is the easiest of soups. Roasting everything first adds a depth of flavour.

    You need:

    10 decent sized tomatoes with the top sliced off

    2 peeled red onions

    A handful of fresh basil or 2 teaspoons of dried

    2 cloves of garlic

    Hot vegetable stock (the cubed stuff you get in supermarkets is fine)

    Pre-heat your oven to 180%c.

    Put all the vegetables in a roasting tray big enough so they all fit snugly, none piled on top of the other.

    Drizzle well with olive oil, sprinkle on half the basil.

    Put in the oven for 20 minutes, the shake the tray well, leave in for another 10 minutes – but take out if the tomatoes start to go black.

    While everything is roasting, dilute your stock cube in hot water as directed by the packet, keep warm in  pan on the hob.

    Put all the roasted veg in a blender, make sure you scrape the side of tray, those bits are full of taste.

    Whiz the blender until smooth. Sprinkle in the restof the basil.

    It's ready to serve – you MUST eat with good crusty bread.

    Easy.

  • Raleigh Choppers

    Being able to get drunk on a schoolnight and then do a decent days work

    Sinclair Spectrums

    Gran's home made fish and chips

    Innocence

    A world without sleb magazines

    The Smiths

    Leeds United being good

    Borg V Mcenroe

    Prince when he was good

    My hair

    Whole summers not working

    Making lasagne with Mum

    Playing tennis with Dad

    Being able to run without pain

    The anticipation of seeing a new Star Wars film

    Riding everywhere

    Making mix tapes

    Having enough time

    What do you miss?

  • Rob's Account Planning School of the Web post is up. Not only is it a cracker, there's even some free advice on how to develop thinking about brands. Great stuff. Good luck.

    If you're wondering what the hell I'm talking about when I mention "School of the Web" go start here.

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    The never un-Birkenstocked, ever wise, Rob Campbell is generously doing the next round of Account Planning School of the Web.

    It will be up Wednesday 18th. You should have a go.

  • The ghd team get's lots of free fashion/sleb type magazines. The suppliers seem to have their wired crossed this week. They got Zoo.

    Claire thought I'd like it, which makes me ask why and question my recent bahaviour.

    So, my first read of Zoo. This is living. I haven't seen that many breasts since I accidentaly walked into the ladies changing rooms at a new gymn.

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