It’s hard to tell from these ads that Hunter Douglas offers an impressive line of custom-made window treatments for home or office
It’s about time us direct response folks had our own million-dollar quiz show on television. So here’s my concept. It needs a little work, but you can visualize the possibilities.
“Are-e-e you ready, panel of contestants? Now, I’m going to show you a direct response ad. And the winner of our jackpot of 1 MILLION DOLLARS will be the first to figure out WHAT THE AD IS SELLING. Furthermore, if you can then tell us WHAT THE AD IS SAYING, you’ll win ANOTHER MILLION. It’s a tough challenge, but I’m sure you’re ready for it. All right – here we go!”
Wouldn’t that be exciting? Much more riveting than guessing the correct pseudonym of Samuel L. Clemens.
Our first examples will be taken from the series of 5-inch by 2-column ads being run in The Wall Street Journal by Hunter Douglas.
And what is Hunter Douglas? What does it sell? Well, that’s part of the problem it faces in doing good advertising.
It’s hard to convey in a phrase exactly what Hunter Douglas makes and sells. If its ads say “We make windows look beautiful,” the careless reader may get the idea the company makes beautiful windows, not window coverings such as Venetian blinds. “Window treatment” is still a little ambiguous – does it refer to whether we are kind or cruel to our windows? – but it still comes closest.
Since the Journal ads are small, I thought we could show two. That would give our contestants a better chance of guessing the right answer.
It’s hard to imagine exactly what the people at Hunter Douglas had in mind. If they’re trying to run chic ads that will make the company a target for acquisition, these won’t do it. If they want to pull lots of qualified leads from well-heeled business executives looking to solve a window treatment problem in their home or office, the ads won’t work if the reader doesn’t realize that is what’s being talked about. If they’re trying to build a brand image, what’s the image for? An obscure but elegant British automobile, maybe?
The first thing I wanted to accomplish in my makeover was to make the type readable. I had to look closely to decipher everything in the original ads.
Second, I wanted to quickly indicate what Hunter Douglas is selling, so that passersby who are in the market would stop and take a look. Because of the difficulty of finding a clear umbrella phrase for the product, I decided to define it in terms of its opposite – that is, to say what it ain’t: “naked windows.” From there it was an easy jump in the headline to a mild joke that is nonetheless completely expressive and relevant as well as attention-getting: “Naked Windows Are Shocking!”
Now the reader knows instantly what the company is selling and how it feels about what it’s selling.
Who’s the prospect? Although my makeover does not explicitly say, the reader I have in mind is a business owner or top executive who also has a nice home.
In the two “before” ads shown here, the ad maker seems to be addressing a midlevel executive lucky enough to have an outer office with a window.
I think that’s a mistake. An exec who’s worrying about impressing colleagues with the size of his bonus or about having a big meeting in his office when it doesn’t look classy enough – well, in most companies occupying modern offices, I don’t think people at that level would be allowed to choose their own window treatments.
One would expect that the owner or top boss would want all the office windows treated the same way, and would not likely indulge those who want to replace their own offices’ ivory-colored Venetian blinds with ones that are fuchsia-colored – at company expense. (Of course, it could be argued that the ad’s reader might be the owner or manager of a small business who’s worried that his or her own office windows might look a little shabby in case a “big meeting” takes place there. But that’s a stretch.)
This is one of the most common failings in amateurish direct response advertising that I see – failing to visualize and identify with the true prospect.
As for the body copy in my makeover, I can’t claim any great credit for it. Most of it I swiped from Hunter Douglas’ brochure, which on the whole is quite well written.
I find that many advertisers have lots of good copy lying about in dark corners of company headquarters, perhaps ignored by the firm’s advertising agency because it was “not invented here.”
Or else some quite skillful agency copywriter may turn out a fine piece of copy and then hide it under an obscure too-clever headline and allow the art director to set it in unreadable 8-point wide-measure sans serif type, preferably white letters on black.
(Gr-r-r!)
There, I feel better now.
I considered including a reply coupon, but I’m afraid that with the widespread use and convenience of toll-free phone numbers and Web site addresses today, the reply coupon is or will soon be dead.
But I changed the phone number from 1-800-592-Style to all numbers: 1-800-592-78953. (That extra digit is not an error – I tried calling it.)
The alphabetical phone number, as in 1-800-Mattres, was invented to make it easy for radio and television audiences to memorize a reply number as it goes flashing by. It works very well for that purpose. But it’s much harder to dial. Especially if you’re a little farsighted. “Let’s see now…”S”…hmm…oh, yes, that’s a 7.”
Readers of print ads don’t need to memorize a phone number, they can just tear out and consult the ad. So why make it harder for them to dial?
Network
