Did you listen to yourselves with this copy?
“Meet Monsieur Big. Fall in love with every stroke!” Indeed.
Because I’m twelve.
Sooooooo – it’s pronounced like “Dallas,” right?
Any other pronunciation wouldn’t make sense to American English speakers who are aware of that major Texas city. Hey, I wonder if they’ve opened a Fallas in Dallas! Did you go to the new Fallas? I think I’d better stop now before it gets ugly …
H/t to my cousin Jamie, who’s always on the lookout for me!
So of course there has to be a juice bar, right? Because California, right?
I just can’t decide whether or not this is what I call a shitmanteau (and yes, if you follow me on Twitter you are well aware that I am trying to make #shitmanteau happen) – i.e., a portmanteau that just doesn’t work.
I think I’m going to err on the side of calling this a shitmanteau because the “sej” part of the word is so incongruous to the English language. But your mileage may vary.
Meanwhile, the Summer House restaurant just next door was a superb lunch location and our weekend getaway to sunny southern California was everything we could’ve hoped for – good friends, good food and wine, serious Fitbit mileage, real estate envy, and always, always in the OC (don’t call it that), quoting from Arrested Development.
We are once again empty nesters, both daughters now comfortably installed in their midwestern liberal arts paradises. I already miss them both, but it’ll be nice to enjoy our home without them.
But when I saw this product on the shelf at Target, I was overcome with memories of one of my favorite mothering tools:
Yes, you’ve got it, the bulb syringe. So first of all, kudos here for calling the damn thing what it is: a snotsucker. Second, I’m all about a brand that doesn’t tell me what it is, so cheers to Fridababy and its name and line of non-descriptive products (especially Windi!) The only concern I have is that unlike with the old bulb syringe, the caregiver is doing the actual sucking of the snot. (Which is of course a sentence I never expected to type …) I am just not sure I’d have been on board for that level of commitment to nasal evacuation.
Just finished reviewing a big juicy trademark search report and, as always, I have many, many thoughts entirely unrelated to my conclusions about the subject mark’s availability for use and registration. Here goes:
I know that “gluten free” and “dairy free” are magical incantations that suggest eternal life and perpetual thinness. And I know that almond milk is also revered among the faddishly health-conscious.* I don’t condemn Baileys (WHERE DID THE APOSTROPHE GO?) for jumping on that bandwagon; we all have to make a buck. But what I do begrudge them is the inanely unimaginative name they went with on this ride:
It doesn’t mean “almond” in any language. All I can think of is that they selected the term so as to be able to register it as a trademark and not have to provide a translation statement, since the term is just a bastardization of the word “almond” and its French version, “amande.”
As always, I will insist on pronouncing it as I read it, which is “al-MAHN-day.” That is, if I ever get the chance, as it’s not likely I’m going to order something that sounds as unappealing as almond milk liqueur.
*I confess that I use a tiny bit of almond milk to lighten my coffee in the morning. I find its bitterness complements the coffee’s bitterness rather than softening it as milk does. Just FTR.
I didn’t like “Herban” as a cute play on “urban” eight years ago (see my post here). Guess what? I still don’t like it, even when the use is more closely connected to “herb” as it is here:
And at least from the outside, there was nothing to suggest why it might be “Denver’s Most Distinctive Dispensary.” However, it may be one of the best dispensary locations in Denver – it’s on the same block as Sweet Action Ice Cream, which I can confirm has some of the best pistachio ice cream this side of Sicily.
Took a rare trip downtown with the kids on Sunday (suburban life tends to engulf us on the weekends) and they were tickled to see this sign:
Spawn of trademark attorneys that they are, the girls appreciated both the cheap “Come Say High” pun and the suggestiveness of Euflora as a name. Hashtag blessed, as they say.
Apparently I’ve been blogging for over nine years now. So happy bloggiversary to me. Perhaps in celebration of those nine years, I’ve just made a big move from solo practice back to big firm practice. I joined the firm of Sherman & Howard L.L.C. on July 5 as Counsel. I’m delighted with this change of pace and lifestyle, and am very excited about the change. I’m also excited to discover downtown Denver, however belatedly after living here for nine years, to commute by train, and to relearn what dressing for work is all about.
BUT WHAT TRADEMARK ODDITIES HAVE I NEGLECTED TO SHARE SINCE MY LAST POST? I’m glad you asked. First of all, the INTA Annual Meeting in Barcelona was a thrill for many reasons, not the least of which was being introduced to fun brand Catalunyan names such as this:
And if Globber wasn’t enough, there’s this:
And one of the best window displays I’ve ever seen:
Yeah, some people think sewing machines. Others think about genericism, regardless of the language:
Finally, perhaps a bit too snarky for a bar name?
All in all, a grand time was had by all, it seemed, not to mention all the damn ham! Would return, 10/10! Meanwhile, until then, I’m enjoying my new digs and learning how to talk to people again – not just puppies!
There are some brands that linger in your memory because you’re eternally twelve years old, and this is one:
(Photo from Wikipedia).
Yes, Pschitt, a French citrus-flavored soda, has enchanted me since I first saw it in 1978. I’ve even blogged about it in the past.
So, following on the trend of product naming that perhaps might be, shall we say, unsettling, I offer you this:
Pschitt skincare. Or let me clarify – Pschitt Magic.
This certainly offers an excellent textbook example of what dilution by blurring might look like, but my bigger issue is that of the term’s significance in English. We trademark lawyers are always cautious about proposed marks that might mean something unsavory in a foreign language, and I’m surprised Garancia’s marketing team thought it was okay to sanction a mark that suggests to an English-speaking consumer that her treatment is nothing but “magic shit.” Between shit on my face and perfume that smells like shoes, I’m so far not seduced by French branding!
LOTS of magazines this time, so let’s have at it:
Is anyone else mildly disturbed by the idea of a perfume from a famous shoe designer? L’eau de Choo? To me, the Jimmy Choo brand means shoes, and shoes alone, and I think migrating the brand to fragrance could be challenging. But I guess to others, a luxury brand is a luxury brand, whether on feet or elsewhere.
I have been walking by this clothing shop on the rue St. Dominique in Paris for years:
It’s always seemed like a klutzy name to me (and also weirdly close to Karl Marx), so this time I thought I’d actually grab a photo and look into its story. Well, indeed, their naming story is one of the lamest I’ve ever seen: the wife of one of the founding brothers came up with the idea of making a cashmere and silk sweater bearing the first names of three great designers; the brothers then launched the brand itself, and subsequently, stores with the name.
Pardonnez-moi if I’m slightly underwhelmed by this gripping tale. Meanwhile, shouldn’t Messrs. Lagerfeld, Jacobs, and Galliano have a problem with this? Under US I would expect that publicity rights and 43(a) might kick in somehow. But here we are in France, and here Karl Marc John has been going steady since 2010. So I’ll just sit back and enjoy my memories of a delightful six days in Paris and try not to let this one gnaw at me.
Because I am a sucker for insight into lifestyles of the rich and famous, and the schadenfreude that reading about that brings, I just took advantage of a $2 subscription to Town & Country magazine. Dazzled, I tell you, I was dazzled by all of the jewels shown “price upon request” and the name-dropping of royals throughout.
I was less dazzled, I must confess, at the egregious misspelling of the Bois de Boulogne in Paris as “Bologne.” That’s a firing offense for any publication (in my exacting view of the world), but particularly in one where all things Paris are considered the ne plus ultra.
Also concerning – though more on an annoyance level – was the script used to promote this perfume from Sisley:
Well? You tell me what that first letter is. Oh, I see, it’s in the hashtag. But wait, is that an i or a lowercase L? And then I just decided, having seen Sisley products in French department stores, that in the immortal words of my mother, if you have to ask, you can’t afford it. (And perhaps recognizing the impenetrability of this script, Sisley added a more legible font to its promotion of this perfume on its website.)
Bought a shirt with this label recently:
Not so sure that’s the best branding. Poof, or poofter, is a derogatory term for a gay man. Wordnik also notes that it’s a term used by magicians to indicate a “sudden vanishing.”
Naturally, the apotheosis of both these meanings can be found in this Arrested Development clip, which I invite you to savor as much as I have.
Another fun fact: Poof can also mean the product or sound or act of flatulence! Don’t say I’m not trying to find entertainment where I can!
Lax blogging. Trying to get back in the saddle again. So:
A much-belated update on the family job front. My dear husband is now a partner of Seed IP Law Group, in Seattle. BUT WE DIDN’T MOVE THERE! How is that possible, you ask? Technology, my friends. Marc is connected to the office and spends a week there a month, but works 75% of the time out of our home office. He’s loving it and we’re loving reconnecting with friends and family and former colleagues in the city where we spent over 15 years of our lives together.
Why am I boring you with this? Because trademarks and stuff, of course! Pop culture!
Pop culture first, of course. Food shopping at New Seasons, the gourmet supermarket on Mercer Island that had the nerve to open only after we moved away:
Yep, they’re pretty insistent about the local provenance of their goods. Kinda made me think of this. It’s local.
Next, there’s the witty, pop-culture-referential advertising for the Puget Sound Trip Planner App:
Bad photo. It says, at the bottom, “Wherever you go, there we are.” I cannot resist a Buckaroo Banzai reference.
Finally, not even in Seattle but just because, here I manage to hit two of my main sweet spots, Francophilia and grammar/spelling errors:
WTF, people, fromage is masculine. So just because you want to be even cutesier, even Frenchier, that doesn’t mean that you make petit into petite. THAT’S NOT HOW IT WORKS! (This is a line we’re going to be repeating a lot these days, I fear.)
Anyway, happy New Year from the blog! This year in Barcelona, for all you INTA folks!
Wandering up and down Michigan Avenue, awaiting my husband’s arrival for his father’s funeral, I managed to find levity (or at least levity sufficient to float my boat, if nobody else’s) in branding at Sur la Table, a store I adore:
As trademarks for baking dishes go, I have to give BAKED a thumbs-down. But Baked Occasions as a cookbook name? BAKED as a mark that is suggestive for Colorado and Washington, and now a few more states? Yeah, that just might work.
The second daughter is a first year at Lawrence University in Appleton, Wisconsin, a haven for music and liberal arts tucked into a part of the country I never dreamed I’d visit. I’ve now been to Appleton four times, and I crack up every time I see this:
Is this just short for Jewish Kippa Law? Is there a skullcap specialization of which I wasn’t previously aware?
The second daughter has now been comfortably (if humidly) installed at Lawrence University in Appleton, Wisconsin. It’s a lovely little school with an undergraduate conservatory, and we will be happy to see our daughter enjoy a music-filled liberal arts education there.
Of course, there were items of interest along the way; after the freshman convocation I spirited my husband away to the historic Stone Cellar Brewpub (no relation, alas), where I’d dined with Daughter #1 when touring Lawrence, to enjoy the food and drink that makes Wisconsin famous: beer and cheese curds.
They did not disappoint. We also learned that Stone Cellar is Wisconsin’s oldest brewery still in operation. Here’s an example of a bottling from when it was the George Walter Brewing Co., circa 1918:
But the time came for us to bid our daughter farewell, and after a stop to visit cousins in Illinois (the best kind of cousins – ones who own a spectacular bed & breakfast with superb food [and yes that was a shameless plug]), we were left with a long and boring drive back to Denver on I-80.
What, then, besides listening to Rob Lowe’s Stories I Only Tell My Friends, kept us awake and motivated? Great barbecue in Des Moines, and wondering what could’ve possessed anyone to come up with this name for a fast food joint that we saw throughout Nebraska:
Because all I can think of is someone saying in a crappy Italian accent, “don’t eat there, it gives you da runzas.” (Also, trademark pro tip: you don’t need to use the ® symbol every single time the mark appears on your website, particularly when you’re referring to the company rather than the stores and services they provide.)
Anyway, thanks to our younger daughter for following in her big sister’s footsteps by choosing a school outside of our customary geographic comfort range and thus allowing us to see more of the USA than we ever expected to!
My sister and brother-in-law are on an Alaska cruise, soaking up the natural beauty of the 49th state.
They’re also sending me a steady stream of photos such as this:
What’s the deal, guys? Frontier lawlessness? Too far away to be caught?
Stick with the natural beauty, guys. It can’t be beat:
(Photos courtesy of Phyllis Stone!)