I have twin older brothers less than two years my senior, so my mom likes to say she had three kids in diapers for awhile, and, all told, life was fairly chaotic for her. When we were small and she a budding family therapist, she practiced at home what she preached at work. Knowing that same-sex twins, even fraternal, would likely be subject to comparison over the years, her learnings left her determined and prepared to mitigate the risks of any resulting negative outcome.
So she parented in a way that fostered individuality and mutual appreciation for what made us unique, and differentiation was a major theme in our house.
This was the early eighties, and, as I now realize, my first real lesson in branding. We kids were encouraged to stake claims all over the place, in even the most benign of categories: we each chose a trademark color, and you didn’t go painting your room with someone else’s. We were in charge of separate species in the vegetable garden. We learned different musical instruments respectively (and with varying levels of success). We played specific characters in the soundtrack of Little Shop of Horrors around my dad’s prized baby grand, and we had designated spots around the dining room table.
And the truth is, even as we got older and added two more siblings and myriad hobbies and interests to the mix, while I won’t pretend we didn’t fight, I can honestly say we didn’t compete with one another. We each had territory, individually carved-out corners of the world where we were encouraged to excel.
Fast-forward, and here’s how it turned out: my four brothers and I each wound up on unique and specific career paths that seemed fairly self-determined from a young age. And while our journies haven’t always been painless, I don’t think any of us really wrestled with choosing which way to go. We just zeroed in on what was already a recognized part of our identities. And we could do that because we’d been busy developing our personal brands within the confines of our household even as toddlers.
So here I am, thirty-some years after choosing the color pink (only girl), watering the tomatoes, butchering Bach on the piano, singing a faux baby-voiced Audrey to my brother’s Rick Moranis Seymour, sitting to my father’s left, and taking a whole lot of art classes. Perhaps unsurprisingly, I work in branding.
And I totally get the differentiation thing.
Because successful branding changes how people react to you, and in turn, that can open doors and offer return on investment. But you can’t cause a reaction if you don’t leave an impression. And you can’t leave an impression if you’re indistinguishable.
Here are a few things I learned about branding from my mother’s sociological experimentation.
Good branding is a self-fulfilling prophecy.
If you pick the right traits to embody, even if they’re aspirational, you will likely be true to them. Because there’s little as motivational for holding oneself accountable as putting something OUT THERE—to the market, to your friends, to your colleagues, to the competition, to the world at large—as yours.
The trick is, the shoe’s gotta fit, at least well enough. It can need breaking in, but it can’t be falling off. Who and what your brand represents can’t be a stretch or your attempts to demonstrate it will backfire. You’ll be barefoot. End metaphor.
How, then, to pick the right traits?
Pick something you already own, and add on.
Whatever you or your business is known for, in whatever circles you’re known…that’s where you start. If it’s a positive quality, like being witty or brainy or reliable, whenever possible, take that trait just a bit further than your comfort zone allows, leaving a noticeable and consistent impression. Executed well, this works even that positive trait is out of place or unexpected because it can become your signature.
If the association is on the negative side, own that too—either by actively and vocally demonstrating that change is in the works (eg. Toyota ads post 2010 recall) or give it an unexpected spin (think the iconic Avis “We Try Harder” campaign).
And what if you don’t think you or your business has any special talents or idiosyncracies?
Try a bunch of stuff on until something sticks.
You can start with whatever your competition or peers aren’t saying or doing, but you have to start somewhere and just explore. Try on lots of hats until one of them looks good—take up new hobbies, whiteboard a bunch of core values, experiment with different tones of voice. Of course, take heed not to leave too scattered an impression with any one audience, but do gauge effectiveness of your efforts by measuring reactions to them.
And if those reactions aren’t favorable, or change over time, then it’s time for you to change, too. And you needn’t be wary of that, because…
The best brands evolve.
We consume brand experiences much, much quicker today than in decades past. And while people may continue to value the same positive qualities your brand has always represented, they won’t actually know it unless you feel immediately relevant to them, moment by moment. Because, make no mistake: branding is about feelings—collective subconscious, experiential, intuitive gut reactions—and not intellectual assessments.
Relevance almost by definition requires evolution, and what might have suited your purposes in younger or startup years could resonate very differently as you mature. “Reliable”, for example, over time could easily read “boring”, so there may be a point when it shifts from a brand headliner to a reassuring bullet or proof point.
But again, nothing out of left field, here. When you’ve been actively managing, testing, and gut-checking your brand along the way, the evolution should seem pretty natural and obvious.
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For a lot of us, different can feel uncomfortable, and it can be pretty tempting to blend in rather than stand out. But while doing so may not cause actual sudden death, lack of differentiation can mean the untimely demise of your brand, and certainly make for a less than meaningful existence.
So whether your brand reflects your own persona or your company’s, figure out what it represents, fully own those traits, and remain cognizant of keeping them up to date.
I, for one, haven’t been into pink since I was six.