I can’t decide what bothers me more about this product name:
Is it (a) that the mark consists merely of the product’s main ingredient, with an additional letter slapped onto it? Or (b) that said mark rhymes with “goats”? Or (c) that when you try to pronounce it your mouth contorts uncomfortably and you’re not sure anyone can understand you? [Try it. I’ll wait. “Want some Woats?” See?] Or (d) that it reminds me of the egregious and (for me, at least) hackle-raising misspelling of “whoa” as “woah”?
I’m afraid it’s (e) All of the above, which is unfortunate, since the founder of the company has some very laudable goals for giving back to the community.
Just a not-so-gentle reminder:
The phonetic spelling doesn’t make it more protectable.
I have noted in the past (sorry for the missing photo; it was of a brand called Redskins) that the French may have a bit more leeway than we do about using Native American nomenclature in their ads and products; yes, it may be culturally insensitive, but they’re an ocean away and bear less culpability for the ills inflicted on our native populace. Still, I don’t think that leeway extends as far as this company would like to take it:
This ad copy is translated as “In Sioux country, for the pretty ‘Red Skins,’ an incantation is uttered by the Shaman of the Tribe: May My Red Spots Disappear!”
First of all, “May My Red Spots Disappear”? Doesn’t really flow off the tongue as a brand name. Second, what is that photo? A winged serum bottle on a rope? Third, are these two ads for one company’s two products on one page? My middle-aged eyes are bugging out of my head! Fourth and finally, shaman? Really?
I was not surprised to find this ad in the cheap pages at the end of the magazine. That should be the most prominence it ever gets – before it hits la poubelle, that is!
I’d rather not go into too much detail, but I’ll tell you that this product name –
has the unfortunate consequence of making me think of this. And this timeless (heh) classic joke, which makes me really not want these chips, as if the cilantro weren’t enough to keep me away for life.
I’d say this clothing company takes the ampersand naming trend to a new and unpronounceable level:
But I like the rugs.
More TJ Maxx antics:
Just decide on one and stick with it. But I’ll give you a hint – it’s Provence! (Also, this chateau appears not to exist at all. Tant pis.) This wooden tray was tempting, and you know I love a good typo, but helas, this was not marked down enough.
Yes, though it’s been a month since we got back from Paris, it’s taken me time to get to my magazines. So here’s Exhibit A – a brand name I kind of like:
… even though my iPad keeps wanting to change it to Hip Anemia.
I spend so much time and money at DSW that it’s no wonder I have been officially designated a “Shoe Lover” (duh, as if I haven’t known this since Mr. Massey’s shoe shop in Newark back in the 60s …) With me, two teenage daughters, and a husband who loves shoes too, we’re there all too often, and are all too familiar with the brands they carry.
But when I saw this one I was speechless. I don’t care how many registrations* their owner has for this mark and marks incorporating it:
IMHO, that’s a whole lot of money spent on something that’s virtually unprotectable. Is it worth trying to buy a krazy spelling of clogs? And would you even try to enforce it? (Hint: TTABvue contains no records indicating the owner of the KLOGS trademarks has opposed any applications based on its ownership of KLOGS. I rest my case.)
*2(f), Supplemental, and with disclaimers of the right to use “clogs” apart from the mark as shown.
Yes, again. I needed a week of intensive walking, eating, and bus riding. Nothing suits me better. And of course there are the airport magazines and photos to share with my vast readership.
So if I haven’t mentioned the fact before, I am the daughter of a car fanatic and am also married to a car fanatic. The total number of cars my dad and husband have owned over their collective lives probably approaches 100. Naturally, some of this rubs off on me, and I’m no slouch when it comes to model recognition, for example, and of course, car names.
What a thrill then, to see that this model name has been given a new lease on life:
Yes, it’s the Duster, once a fine Plymouth model and now part of the Renault-Dacia family. Too bad they ditched the zany original Duster typeface:
Fun facts: I learned from the Wikipedia article on the Duster that it was built on the same platform as the Plymouth Valiant and the Dodge Dart. Re the former, we owned a snazzy white Valiant convertible with turquoise vinyl interior – boy was it cute! And re the latter? Well, like the Duster, the Dart name was resuscitated by Chrysler as of 2013, long after its original 1960-1976 heyday.
It has been quite a while since I last did any drinking for research purposes. Let me tell you, this one isn’t likely to make me resume the practice:
I think the only way this wine’s marketers could’ve pandered to their target market more would be to have made the label pink. With flowers. And a photo of Ryan Gosling.
N.B. Somehow I lost all my photos in my blog transition. I apologize. Technology is hard.
I can’t believe I haven’t yet found a reason to discuss my visceral disgust at the popular marketing term “melty.” What in dog’s name is wrong with “melted” and “melting,” I implore you? Every time I see a commercial using the term – and it rears its ugly head more and more often (though the public seems to have been cringing about it for many years now) – I scream at the screen. (I mean honestly, why not “meltish” then while we’re at it?)
So it was with even greater disgust that I turned over a package of Starbucks Via to see this fresh horror:
Yes, that’s “roasty.”
Now for a quick detour: I had the great honor and pleasure of being a guest lecturer on trademark prosecution at the University of Denver Law School last week, in a trademark class taught by the esteemed adjunct professor Marc Levy (okay, I had an in). And one of the topics I discussed my steadfast reminder to clients to look terms up in Urban Dictionary to make sure your new trademark isn’t a dirty word.
Let’s just say that Starbucks should’ve done that before forging ahead with its “roasty” usage.
Another entrant in the “just because you can doesn’t mean you should” sweepstakes:
Yes, it’s cute wordplay, and yes, it goes well with the Sexy Hair house brand. But still, I’d prefer a bit more subtlety, perhaps because I’m fast approaching my mid 50s.
Is this the worst descriptor ever?
Here’s a new test for you marketing folks out there: If it sounds obscene when you put it into the question “Is that your [BLANK] or are you just happy to see me?” – IT IS.
Just got served an ad on Hootsuite for a company called Vormetric. Sorry, but the font I read it in made the beginning of that name waaaaaay too close to “vomit” for my sensitive stomach.
Maybe it’s me, maybe it’s late at night, maybe it’s my failing middle-aged vision … but any name that when you squint at it, calls “vomit” to mind? Let’s just say it makes me a bit queasy.
N.B. I also note that my younger teenager returned from her summer adventures with the abbreviated verb “vom” firmly entrenched in her vocabulary, so this could be part of the reason for my strong reaction to this mark.
We took our eldest off to Kenyon College this past weekend. Alma mater of such luminaries as Paul Newman, E.L. Doctorow, Laura Hillenbrand, and last night’s Emmy Award winner Alison Janney, it’s a gorgeous campus on a hill in central Ohio – as picturesque an educational environment as you’re likely to find anywhere.
Kenyon’s address is Gambier, Ohio, but Gambier is really inside Kenyon – it’s just that tiny. And because it’s so tiny, commerce there is limited. How limited?
There’s just one bank, and it can’t even afford an apostrophe.
Those are the only two words that immediately came to mind when I saw this mark:
I am guessing from the stylization of the word in the lower right-hand corner of the photo that the intention is for the mark to be pronounced “do-a-vee” – and I would have no gripe with that, if the ad didn’t also show the mark in text as “DUAVEE.” It’s that lack of differentiation between the halves of the mark that calls this post’s title words to mind, and makes me want to pronounce it “dwah-vee.”
Still, I’ve seen far worse, and have no quibbles here on the product itself – remember? I’m a femme d’un certain age.
Is it me? Or does this brand of luggage suggest a one-way trip to the hereafter?
The sightless seahorse doesn’t help, in my book.
Well, you’re gonna be as lost in Paris as Nigel and David and the boys were in Cleveland in This is Spinal Tap if you follow this map:
(No, this is not trademark-related; I just love this kind of crap!)
So I kind of like this Isle of Dogs product line scheme and the fact that they use a descriptive term for each entry in the line. But I’m sorry, we live in Colorado, and this one just cracked us right up:
I don’t know about you, but neither of my bubbes ever made mochi:
Bonus points for tortured translation of “ice cream” into French!