Krug: When brand love is gone, so are we

Love is a strong word that belies a powerful and rare emotional feeling. So whether we use the word to describe another person, or a place or a thing or a feeling, what we are trying to convey is our passion and unwavering belief. Love is a word that can be applied to brands, as well. You may patronize Brand 2, but you absolutely LOVE Brand 1. You’ll drive an additional seven miles for a brand that you love, bypassing the easy on-off of an interstate for a tour of the countryside to get to Valhalla. So why is that? Why is it that we love a brand? What makes us feel so strongly about our collective experience with a product, service or solution that it has caused us to forge an emotional attachment and undying loyalty toward it? I think that, for the most part, is pretty straightforward. It’s all about the experience, and how that experience resonates with our expectations. That’s where love – in particular for brands – lives. Most Subaru owners love their Subarus. I can’t explain why. I’ve owned three of them. They are good cars. I had a midsized Legacy sedan that was virtually bulletproof. My wife drove an Impreza that many others seemed only too willing to drive into that bounced back time after time. And then I also owned Subaru’s attempt at a sports car, the SVX, which had this cool cockpit-styled driver and passenger windows and what I believe was the largest boxer engine – by displacement – the manufacturer ever built. It was the most expensive Subaru that had been created at that time, as well, MSRP-ing at something like $38,000 off the showroom floor in 1995. Unlike the Legacy and the Impreza, the SVX was a fractious child. It was a great car when it ran well, and I actually skirted a tornado with it – the car’s low-slung aerodynamics, weight and all-wheel drive system performing incredibly in some of the strangest weather I’ve experienced. However, when the transmission went out at 50,000 miles, it couldn’t be rebuilt. It had to be replaced. And, for some reason, that meant sending away to some town I had never heard of in Japan to have one built from scratch at the cost of $7,700 dollars – in 2001. (Thanks, extended warranty.) But it left me without access to the car for more than five months, which was a nightmare. When one of the lifters developed a slight tapping sound that the Subaru technician couldn’t resolve, yet the dealership felt compelled to charge me four hours of diagnostic time to not diagnose, the days of the SVX were numbered. Eventually, it found a new home elsewhere. That, not coincidentally was the last Subaru that I owned. My experience had shifted, and my faith in the brand – reinforced with great experiences in the Legacy and the Impreza – had been lost. Perhaps forever, although it’s difficult to know for certain. I love cars, and cycle through them – as my wife often pokes – like some people go through underpants. I am pretty sure that my current inventory of vehicles is actually more up to date than my current cache of undies. Nonetheless, my faith in the brand was shaken. Now, I know that Subaru builds a terrific car. The new Legacy sedan is tempting. As well, the WRX STi is probably the most radically engineered street machine available in the market today. And, beside that, it looks like virtually nothing else on the road – an attribute that led me to the old SVX I owned. But as I have weighed options, I haven’t been able to find my way back to Subaru – a brand that, had you asked me early on in 2001, I would have told you that I loved. So why is that? I am a forgiving person. Chrysler knows that. I’ve forgiven them for the 1990 LeBaron with which they seduced me oh so long ago – the one that actually required four transmission swaps before it finally was remedied. And after a long hiatus away from the brand, and dalliances with at least a half-dozen other brands, I went back to Chrysler. Since returning to the brand, I have purchased four of its products in the past five years – cycling through the 300c SRT-8 sedan, a Dodge Ram 1500, a Chrysler Town & Country minivan and a Jeep Grand Cherokee (the latter of which are in my garage today). I’d be lying through my fingertips if I didn’t come clean and tell you that I covet the 2015 Dodge Challenger, which I can’t even own for another half a year. Chrysler won me back because it reached out to me, not only through its indirect marketing, but also through direct-marketing efforts and overall awareness campaigns. It spoke to me in ways that the other brands weren’t communicating at a time when I made a conscious effort amidst the depths of the recession to back an American nameplate. Was I ready for the second half to start, Clint Eastwood? Yeah, buddy, I was already on the field, and had my chinstrap tightened down. I was all in. Since then, Chrysler has rewarded me with – knock on wood – vehicles that perform as they should, and with – knock twice – limited exposure to costly repairs and maintenance. But, as important, they continue to talk to me in a way that makes me feel aligned with the brand. Chrysler sends me exclusive offers to upgrade my current car experience, or the car itself with new models. They market to my connection with the brand. The products make me feel a certain way. The local dealer sends me a card for my and my wife’s birthdays. Love, as I said, is a strong word, but I think it is love. Have I seen a Subaru advertisement in the past 13 years? Oodles. And I have a tremendous amount of regard for the brand, and have a number of friends who swear by their beloved Subarus. But somewhere along the line, Subaru lost touch with me. I had to fight with them to get my SVX running properly and back on the road. That soured me. They stopped sending me offers. Sincerely, I’m sure there was absolutely no connection between the two. In there, somewhere, I no longer felt as if I was part of their tribe. And when that happened, my love was lost. I didn’t notice it at the time. I don’t remember sobbing uncontrollably, anyway. This is but one memorable experience that I could access. I have had love affairs with Diet Coke, Captain Morgan spiced rum, cigar maker Arturo Fuente, and countless others. As I sit here, thinking about the brands that I have moved away from or have moved away from me, for one reason or another, I couldn’t actually conjure the moment that we went our separate ways, but the love that once was there no longer is present today. How and why that happens isn’t always clear. We move on. A brand moves on. Something better comes along. But we love what we love because of the way that it makes us feel. And when a brand no longer makes us feel a certain way, we may give it a second, third or even a fourth chance, but if we don’t reconnect on an emotional level, we eventually move on, too.

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As always, stay classy. Chris Krug is president of the progressive media communications firm No Limit Agency* in Chicago. No Limit is a full-service agency whose practice focuses on strategy, brand management, creative campaigns and delivering unparalleled earned placement in the media. No Limit Agency works with some of the best-known and fastest-growing brands