When I saw this brand featured at Costco,
I could think of only one thing:
I see from their website that the Ruprecht Company has an old and storied history. It’s just unfortunate that at least for Steve Martin fans, the Ruprecht name is now irretrievably tied to this superb performance.
That’s right, PSSSST! dry spray-on shampoo. A revelation 40+ years or so ago and a product that probably started returning to the market about five years ago (I’m guessing – I suddenly started getting it in my Birchbox shipments). Yes, I can remember what it smelled like, but no, I cannot remember any commercials or catchy jingles. And what a great onomatopoeic trademark!
I’m pretty much worn out with all the CRAVE marks and variants out there, and their underlying suggestion that we’re all desperately trying to maintain healthful diets but are nonetheless captive to insatiable cravings that possess us and impel us to reach for something naughty.
But for dog’s sake, if you’re going to go the crave route, could you at least get the informal gerund correct?
CRAVE’N? Not “cravin'”? I despair.
For your consideration:
and now this:
It’s a veritable law school exam of infringement issues!
Are you just asking to be sued?
Yes, I’ve been remiss. And each time I scroll through my iPhone to find a photo, I come across photos I’ve taken expressly for the purpose of blogging them. So here comes a new feature to showcase my photographic impulses.
The name is – [chef’s kiss] – just wonderful. The mark is even registered. However, a bit of a wrinkle there: the registration covers this stylization:
The owner filed its section 8 declaration using a photo of the product as it appears in my photo above. Is this the same commercial appearance? But the PTO accepted it. But this raises my eternal question of why don’t people simply file for the word mark rather than a stylization that they might change five years down the road?
I love when I can capture a lesson in trademark distinctiveness in one photo:
On top, you have OMISSION beer. Oh, what a superb name. Authoritative and succinct – and suggestive of the fact that something is missing, though the mark itself doesn’t say exactly what. Instead, it leaves that task to the little box on the upper right-hand corner of the cardboard case: “Crafted to remove gluten.” There we go – now the consumer is aware of a factor vital to its purchase decision.
And then below OMISSION, we have GLÜTINY. Where to begin? Well, I cannot ignore the pointless metal umlaut (aka röck döts!) that they’ve stuck over the U. Maybe, along with the skull-and-wrenchbones logo, they’re trying to destigmatize gluten-free beer to indicate that metalheads can drink this too? Oy. Then there’s the strange term “GLÜTINY” itself; assuming it’s a homophone for gluten-y, doesn’t that mean it’s gluten-filled or glutinous or gluten-rich? And wouldn’t that then not make any sense whatsoever for a beer that has been “Crafted to remove gluten”? Or wait – is it supposed to rhyme with “mutiny”? Yes, according to the New Belgium website. (And if it’s a gluten mutiny, I see we have yet another #shitmanteau on our hands!) But I still think that if you have what is essentially the word “gluten” in the name of a gluten-free/reduced beer, you are confusing the consumer as to what the product actually contains … as well as whiffing at the opportunity to create a good and distinctive mark.
Spotted in the toy aisle at Target:
It’s very hard to pronounce the T in EnchanTimals (and I can’t figure out why it’s capitalized) – so if you do attempt to utter the word without emphasizing the T, you sound like you’re three sheets to the wind. But I’m confused as well: if this #Shitmanteau means “enchanted animals,” which is which, the girl or the fox? I’m so glad my girls are past the age where this would appeal!
How on earth are we to expect kids these days to spell right when we create brand names with pointless misspellings?
There’s no reason I can think of to spell “divine” the way Valspar – now Sherwin-Williams does here; the term would be equally registrable and protectable as a (laudatory but not descriptive) trademark if spelled correctly. You lose at least two points here, says the spelling bee veteran.
But you get suspended for this one:
I blame Scrubs for making Elliot happen as a girl’s name (though I love the show, don’t get me wrong). But I blame dingbat parents – and here, toy companies – for distorting the name’s spelling, presumably to girlify it. I’ve tried to wish it away as Ellie T – but no, that’s unjustified.
Trademark geeks – do you see a 2(a) or 2(c) problem here?
If you didn’t, the PTO is on your side. If you did, you’re probably old like I am.
Please excuse the lousy photo quality here. We were running to meet friends on a visit to NY last month, but I had to stop to get the shot:
Yes, that’s CALLAHEAD … for portable toilets. The name elicited a huge groan among our party!
(Psssst, Callahead – your registration has been cancelled! It sure looks to me like it’s in use!)
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.
Maybe for Professor Levy, in fact! In light of the decision in Vuitton v. My Other Bag, can you distinguish this use from the uses LV complains about?
My first reaction was “OH COME ON!” But does Vuitton suggest I should temper my indignation? I’ll leave it to the academics to discuss.
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.