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 A mist of difference
Writing on real estate,branding, Heidi Fliessand Ritualism
©2009 1000watt
www.1000wattconsulting.com
 
Branding
I rst began to understand the lure of branding while playing stickball one Sunday in the concrete park on the corner of  Avenue P and East 4th street in Brooklyn.Jimmy Klapsis leaned back and threw his best fastball. It never hit the wall behind me. I smacked it back over his headand out of the park into Ocean Parkway. That was the last I ever saw of that little pink Spaulding ball.Over at the store that sold stickballs, the owner tried to sell me a Pensy Pinky. Claimed it was exactly like the Spaulding.It didn’t feel the same. Or look the same. And while it appeared to bounce as high and as many times before restingon the oor, it was still different. No matter what the store owner said, I could not image playing stickball with anythingelse but a Spaulding.It didn't register to me then but I was a brand loyalist. As I hit my teens and switched off sports and switched on music,brands like Vox, Gretsch, and Capitol inuenced what amps I bought, guitars I'd play and labels I'd wish I could one dayget signed too. These were not just names of products to me. In ways I can't even describe, they dened who I was. The art and science of branding fascinates me. I studied its tenets in college and fell in love with the works of some of the greatest ad writers and brand makers in modern times. Landor, Bernbach, Ogilvy and others. What drew me totheir ame then and now is what happens when a great brand is crafted. All of its inherent complexities, components,ingredients and people are narrowed down to something so incredibly simple that a mere word is all it takes to conjureall sorts of powerful effects.I believe you can create this for anyone and anything.It's not easy.Nothing great is. The following articles are some of the many that Brian and I have written over the last two years about this thing we doinside a business lled with names that so want to be brands. This stuff's for you. Enjoy.
Davison
 
Let us proclaim the mystery ofbrand
by Brian Boero The Monsignor’s head would turn towards me almost imperceptibly.Up from my kneeler, I would unhook the censer from its standand place a purple cone of incense among the embers in its well.Plumes carrying age-old mysteries curled upward.My walk to the altar was slow. Reverential. And gravely serious.hundreds of eyes belonging to elders, parents and schoolmatesxed on me. At the altar the Monsignor took the censer and waved it abovechalices over which he had performed a whispered consecration.
 Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere nobis. Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere nobis. Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, dona nobis pacem.
I was an alter boy. Twelve years old. I took it very seriously. Thedress, the song, the ritual and the symbolic richness of the CatholicChurch lled my young mind with meaning.In graduate school, I spent a lot of time studying the SupremeCourt. It was silliness mostly – using regression analysis to pinpoint,say, the effects amicus briefs had on Justice Burger’s opinions onbusing. Social “science” pedantry at its worst.Much more interesting were the qualitative works exploring thenature of the Court’s authority. How, exactly, nine unelected judgescould shape the arc of American political development withoutprovoking revolt. This authority was sustained in many ways that had nothing to dowith constitutional prerogative. It was in the robes. The consciousremove from the political fray. The use of Latin to confer gravity anddeect deconstruction (
Stare Decisis
just sounds like something
of 00

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