Published on
September 10, 2024
Welcome to the Breakdown, a weekly roundup of the best real-life marketing examples, created for marketers and agency folk that want to create work that actually works.
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In this Breakdown, we're looking at ✨ contrarianism ✨ - ads that specifically challenge an opinion or generally held belief in order to win bigger with their actual customers.
Although I assume some legislation somewhere says you can’t actually call it butter.
Lurpak launched their plant-based butter alternative last month - which, by anyone’s standard, is quite late to the game.
However, as I’m sure many of you agree, Lurpak is the undisputed king of regular butter (all you Kerrygold fans are also valid). So this latecomer could well be the greatcomer. And in fine Lurpak tradition, the ad that accompanies the launch is all fire and brimstone in the kitchen. Specifically to challenge the idea that vegetables are bland or boring.
“While most marketing in the plant-based category leans towards a natural, calm approach, we treated promoting our product exactly how Lurpak would treat any piece of communication.”
said Lurpak brand manager Mia Lund Moeller.
Here’s the ad itself:
As I said, fire and brimstone. The heavy metal track is a very nice touch (and I have appreciated hearing more rock music in ads - like that incredibly funny KFC Tower burger ad from an earlier Breakdown).
What to say, Lurpak really know how to produce well-crafted ads. They’ve pocketed this corner of food enthusiasm-bordering-on-mania that the feel of the thing is a brand asset by itself. Some TikTok influences in the very neat lining up of visual with audio (cf. Sam’s Eats on TikTok) add to the craft. And the central challenge - “Whatever you think about plants, think again” - is, I think, not meant for meat-eaters. No all-out carnivore is likely to be convinced that this is as good as real butter. My guess is that they’d be more likely to mindlessly hate on it. But Lurpak shouldn’t care, because that lot can still buy their main best seller. This is for vegetarians and vegans who see the Lurpak brand, perhaps miss the taste, but skim over it because they know it’s not for them.
I saw this on a train and thought it was pretty interesting.
Fine, fine, the work did technically go live in June. I just didn’t see it.
It’s the first work from agency Lucky Generals, who were appointed last year. The message is pretty simple - it says it right there in plain writing.
Doners worthy of the daylight.
I love this line. It’s obviously a quality message, but it’s wrapped in a real, if simple, understanding of consumers. Most people associate kebabs with the dark. Post-night out, a few drinks down, something salty and fatty and relatively cheap works wonders.
But GDK is actually quite expensive (compared to other kebab shops, at least). A classic challenge of justifying a premium, and a classic solution of focusing on quality. But an interesting way of solving it - not talking about ingredients or provenance or low saturated fats (maybe because they can’t make those claims?), but focusing on the appropriateness of the product. No other kebab is suitable for the daylight. Can you imagine someone walking into a busy office with a kebab for their lunch?
Well maybe you can, if it’s from GDK.
If it wasn’t clear, I really like this work. It’s simple and clear, and the brief for it must have been so good - get Britain to rethink kebabs.
It’s not entirely a new challenge - I remember seeing ads from GDK about 2 years ago talking about the protein macros in their food. Funnily enough, advertised outside a gym.
That was another killer idea: still rooted in quality, and in surprising people with when it is ok to eat a GDK kebab. No notes, please write more.
Pot Noodle have a weird knack for coming up with great creative ideas.
Picture the scene. You’re Pot Noodle. Like everyone else in the ultra-processed, convenience game, you want to establish your product as the hunger killer (GDK are trying to do it, Rustlers tried to do it, Peperami tried to do it, Snickers did it, and many more besides).
So, the answer must lie somewhere in satisfaction, however you interpret that. Maybe it’s the sense of fullness you get afterwards. Maybe it’s something intrinsic about the product - like it’s meatiness, or it’s savoriness, or the fact that it’s an actual dish (rather than a snack) ready in a minute.
Well, if you’re Pot Noodle in 2023, you arrive at something similar. The idea that Pot Noodle fills a hole. But maybe you don’t expect the creative team to take that idea so literally.
Enter the campaign. “Nothing fills a hole like Pot Noodle.”
Several gloriously gross posters of instant noodles filling up holes. Not the metaphorical hunger holes we’re familiar with. Actual holes.
I love this campaign. I featured an update to this that was more recent in an earlier Breakdown - featuring plenty of slurping Pot Noodlers. And I think this comes from the same place, it has the same energy. People will find it disgusting. But those people probably also find Pot Noodle a bit disgusting. The people who don’t, however, will probably find this funny. There might even be a modicum of pride in it. I think Pot Noodle have found a way to connect with their customers that is really quite rare. We always hear about authenticity and relatability and relevance, but this is what those vague, shapeless concepts look like in practice.
And not in a good way.
I don’t like to hate on ads. But this isn’t that.
I do like to hate on airlines. And BA’s newest series of OOH work, focusing on their Business Class experience, makes me hate them more.
It’s always tricky - how do you advertise an incredibly expensive tier without either making that tier seem too expensive, or making the lower tiers seem too shit.
Well, here I think BA have accidentally done the latter. Here are the posters:
The text is quite small, so each of them reads:
“The most peaceful spot in New York. Then London.”
“Eight hours in the company of your favourite person.”
“Best when left to breathe. The same goes for the wine.”
I really like the ‘peeking through the door’ visual. I think that alone communicates plenty about the privacy and personal nature of the Business Class experience. But as someone who will never see the sense in flying business, the copy makes me think:
“So Economy is where you will get absolutely no peace.”
“Economy is eight hours crammed together like sardines.”
And my favourite:
“Economy is so shit, you’ll feel like you can barely breathe.”
Yeah, yeah, I won’t fly Business, so these aren’t for me. Sure. Most people on any given flight are also not flying Business. At least with Ryanair I know they give absolutely no fucks to all passengers equally. My bitter soul is telling me that BA are just saying, like any unnecessarily fancy establishment, if you pay enough money, then we’ll treat you like human beings.
Eurgh, sorry, rant over.