No. 342: The Antagonistic Mr. Elliot

Elliot

In the closing scene of AMC’s final episode of Mad Men, the viewers are left to believe that our seven season survey of Don Draper ends in his personal enlightenment. In this particular moment: Draper is seen sitting on the grass, cross-legged and with no shoes. He’s meditating on a hilltop with a dozen or so other students. For what seems like just a moment, the audience is led to believe that the embattled protagonist is finally at peace with himself. And then he smiles. It’s the kind of smile that communicates “I’m still the best at what I do.” The audience is left guessing. The scenery, the moment, and Draper’s skill set suggest that Draper was responsible for conjuring one of the most impactful and audacious brand advertisements of the 20th century. It was a rare moment in brand history: an incumbent brand operated like an insurgent. The result? An ad that reshaped Coca-Cola’s narrative for nearly a decade.

The Mad Men scene of the origin story was fictitious, of course. The story of the advertisement’s impact was not, however. Like Ford and General Motors in the 1960s or Nike and Reebok in the 1980s, Coca-Cola and PepsiCo’s rivalry gave rise to the idea of insurgent brands. Insurgents are brands that arise out of the rivalries of incumbents.

In early 1886 an Atlanta chemist (and morphine addict) introduced Coca-Cola to the world. He called it a “potion for mental and physical disorders.” For him, it was a solve. The product’s main ingredient was cocaine, a narcotic that was – perhaps – less detrimental than his addiction. Pepsi-Cola followed just seven years later. It would be decades before the two companies became legitimate rivals. The arc of the two brands has become a case study in corporate brand competition. One that remains relevant to this day.

Pepsi-Cola had made hay during the Depression. Like Coke, the drink cost a nickel, but it came in a 12-ounce bottle nearly twice the size of Coke’s dainty, wasp-waisted one. But by the 1950s, Pepsi was still a distant No. 2. It nabbed Alfred Steele, a former Coke adman, who arrived embittered and ambitious. His motto: “Beat Coke.” Coca-Cola refused to call Pepsi by name — the drink was “the Imitator,” “the Enemy,” or, generously, “the Competition” — but it began tinkering with its business (and imitating Pepsi) to stay ahead. [1]

When John S. Pemberton secured the recipe for Coca-Cola in 1886, he couldn’t have foreseen a feud that would span three centuries. But for many consumers, the Pepsi vs. Coke feud is about as American as baseball. In 1899, Caleb Bradham decided to compete head on. Also a chemist, Brad’s Drink was later incorporated as Pepsi-Cola. And so began a roller coaster of a century that crescendoed in the 1970’s with the Pepsi Challenge – a marketing push that aimed to convince younger consumers that rival Coca-Cola had inferior taste and less cool. It worked. And so continued the back and forth. The two companies were well-established when the 1970s’ Cola Wars broke captivated American consumers (and international ones, alike).

The cola competition study [HBS Case Summary: 2] is a prologue to a greater point. What happens when incumbents ignore insurgents? The inertia of dominance often becomes an incumbent’s nemesis. At the peak of the cola wars, a future founder was employed by Unilever and then Procter & Gamble. There, he led marketing for German toothpaste manufacturer Blendax. By working for these conglomerates, Dietrich Mateschitz had an early education in the gifts and curses of incumbency. And one chance meeting in Thailand provided his platform for insurgency.

In 1982 he met an Austrian toothpaste salesman called Dietrich Mateschitz, who had started drinking Krathing Daeng (founded in 1976) during visits to Bangkok and found it cured his jet lag. Mateschitz became convinced that the drink had wider commercial potential, and in 1984 the two men became business partners. [3]

The emergence of Red Bull serves a case study in insurgency-driven marketing and branding. Over the next three decades, Red Bull would go on to master alternative marketing, clawing domestic and international market share from incumbents that should have been equipped to stifle the Austrian beverage manufacturer’s advances.

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Global beverage market: leading companies 2018, based on sales | Source: Beverage Industry Magazine

But as with anything, it can be difficult for incumbents to obsess over potential competitors when existing threats exist. By 1979, Pepsi overtook Coca-Cola in sales after a clever “taste test” marketing push that outwitted the Atlanta-based manufacturer. This victory was relatively short-lived. By 1996, Fortune magazine declared the cola wars to be finished. And since, Pepsi shifted its focus altogether.

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Concepting a new form of brand marketing.

Retail has been witness to a history of these brand battles. And if the future of retail is eCommerce, it’s likely that today’s next surprise is brewing. Insurgents take markets by surprise by operating in ways unanticipated by established corporations. They move differently and they rarely play by traditional rules. Incumbents are incentivized to preserve the status quo, retaining market share. It’s often the case that product-wise, all things are equal. It’s the subtle differences in messaging and community that tends to shift the conversation from old and stable to new and dynamic. Shopify is the Coca-Cola of this conversation. Shopify wasn’t first to democratize eCommerce but no platform has a better understanding of marketing and branding than the Ottawa-based SaaS company. In a recent 2PM report, I explained:

The growth of the DTC era can be attributed to SaaS companies like Shopify, BigCommerce, Magento [Adobe], and Demandware [Salesforce]. But in an industry where innovations are finite development cycles away, community and brand equity has become the key differentiator. [4]

Shopify’s innovations are numerous. Two of their top competitors (Salesforce and Adobe) are now cogs in corporate wheels. In this way, BigCommerce is the Pepsi to Shopify’s Coca-Cola. Of all of Shopify’s innovations, branding and sociology are ones that BigCommerce cannot seem to contend with. Led by Brent Brellm, the Austin-based SaaS company competes on the merits of its product. “We taste better” may as well be on his CEO’s whiteboard. But Shopify is more than the merits of its product, it’s a lifestyle brand. This perplexes BigCommerce’s leadership. In the platform wars, taste will matter as technologies shift toward no-code architecture. But brand will be equally important. Enter Elliot, a platform that seems to possess the tools that Shopify’s other competitors do not. And an emphasis on substance and brand.

On Insurgency and No-Code Development

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The rise of the no-code economy

Founded in July 2017 by Sergio Villasenor, Elliot announced a $3 million round in January of 2018. And like many venture announcements in that first quarter, the news came and went. Beyond a PR wire, the company’s announcement made no headlines. There was no grand entrance and even less buzz. This, despite a list of admirable investors and advisors.

We have orchestrated a blue-chip syndicate of seed stage investors including Bowery Capital, a national seed stage fund with offices in SF and NY leading the round, and Susa Ventures as the co-lead. Others participating include Acceleprise, Bam Ventures, Flexport, and SV Angel. [5]

Early on, Elliot’s founder built the company’s value proposition on the common premise: “We taste better.”  In SaaS, this is akin to iterating fast and architecting software superiority. For product developers, this product-first concept is the default.

On the merits of its product alone, Elliot has a number of clones. A casual observer will find them in the brand’s Twitter mentions questioning how the company has begun to consume mindshare with its unique approach to antagonizing incumbent brands. The company, itself, has little protected intellectual property. And until recently, it had no marketing flywheel. But over time, I’ve observed the company’s playbook evolve into one reminiscent of an insurgent of old: Red Bull. The brand has become uncomfortably antagonistic. But you can’t behave insurgently without some level of discomfort.

Elliot on Twitter

@tobi Emojis must be a Plus feature 😉

Elliot contends that Shopify’s products aren’t for everyone. And that its no code approach is early but it will be of increasing relevance as vendors begin to shift away from development agencies to launch new merchandising operations. A Shopify Partner, who asked for his identity to be withheld, commented on this trend. He noted: “As no-code becomes more common, agencies like mine will need to find new ways to add value for our clients. Who is paying $100,000 to do what can be done for free?” In the Lean Luxe slack channel, former Shopify Editor-in-Chief Aaron Orendorff and notable copywriter contended with Elliot’s brand voice:

There’s a 100% chance I’m not your target audience. So that’s probably part of it. For me, it’s the mixed feelings of: (a) that’s clever and attention grabbing vs (b) I’d be uncomfortable to retweet it.

The founding team is rounded out by Clayton Chambers (formerly of Yotpo) who serves as the Head of Growth. Additionally, Villasenor was successful in hiring Marco Marandiz (formerly of Capital One, VRBO]) as his Head of Marketing. The team has made an early impact, though it remains to be seen as to whether it has had a material effect on penetrating one of Shopify’s top advantages: its partnership ecosystem. What is evident is that the DNA of the team is different than the rest. And that, more than anything else, makes them something to watch. They’ve begun to build Elliot into a lifestyle brand, merchandising and all. They are out-Shopifying Shopify.

Sergio Villaseñor on Twitter

est. 2019

The technology and promotional DNA that the company possesses aside, a few questions remain. Can Villasenor convince Shopify’s target consumer that no-code architecture is an acceptable path forward? And can he convince development agencies to shift their offerings to account for a no-code economy? Frequent justifications for merchants considering no-code platforms include: speed, cost reduction, and ease of launch. No-code architecture allows early stage brands to sidestep developer shortages and agency fees, potentially decreasing startup costs and early investment needs.

Although no one is saying that coding is dead or that programmers are going to be out of a job soon, there is no denying that the current demand for software far exceeds the supply of coders and that many traditional ways of building applications are complex and time-consuming. [6]

According to my research, less than 8% of Shopify Plus merchants have a GMV that exceeds $10 million annually. Although, this number can improve. Shopify brands like Supply can grow from $2.5 million annual run rates to $10+ million run rates in just a year.

Shopify’s gift is that its brand partners mature over time, a process that has been aided by the company’s support systems and suite of technical services. Some analysts would argue that BigCommerce (or Salesforce or Adobe) would be positioned to benefit if Shopify ever lost community support. However, it’s likely that Shopify’s incumbent competitors are ill-equipped to facilitate such a shift. And besides, all proverbial cola tastes the same. But no-code is a different value proposition altogether. One that may become relevant as the economy tightens and venture capital becomes less available to early stage eCommerce brands and retailers.

Like Coca-Cola, Ford, and Nike before it – Shopify’s name represents more than its product. In May 2020, Shopify hosts its next Unite conference in Toronto. It’s the annual event that hosts thousands of loyalists that converge to praise Shopify’s continued growth. In the process, the event fortifies the phalanx of protection that the SaaS company has surrounding it. More than software, Shopify is the people, brands, and agencies that evangelize it. These are the company’s strategic advantages. If Villasenor and team have it their way, they’ll be in Toronto as well. But they won’t be in the event’s venue handing out cards with software specs, that’s what an incumbent like BigCommerce would do. They’ll be down the street from Unite, hosting their own party. And perhaps, a few Shopify clients will trickle in to see what the fuss is about. Some will scoff at the lack of decorum and some will nod at the audacity of it.

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Resumo do membro: A teoria do quarto azul

Standing before a well-lit meeting room of concrete, modernity, and dark steel: Michael Dearing led a professional discussion with nearly 40 participants. The topic was Away’s recent managerial troubles. But this wasn’t your ordinary forum for discussion. The room was filled with brand founders, engineers, venture capitalists, and HR executives. This allowed for a 360 degree feedback loop in a case study format. The diversity of profession, levels of seniority, and industry moved the group to discuss legitimate causes and effects rather than the sensation of it all. 

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No. 341: The Golden Age and Peloton

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The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there. British writer Leslie Poles Hartley used this line to open his 1953 novel entitled The Go-Between, a novel that explores memories profound effects on our present. For his protagonist –  Leo Colston – it a memory that he cannot shake. Nostalgia is a type of memory that reminds us of the past and drives us forward. In America, nostalgia is often tied to consumerism and for good reason. For one, it influences our perceptions of brand equity. We drive a Ford because that’s what Americans do. High school students compete for coveted spots in timeless institutions like Harvard, M.I.T., and Stanford to take part in what was – with the hope of becoming what will be. People join clubs because of their rich history. Nostalgia drives our passion for sports, cars, education, and even travel. But what is nostalgia that you haven’t personally experienced?

Anemoia is the nostalgia for something before your time. Better put, “a nostalgic sense of longing for a past you yourself have never lived.” [1] For many, there is an anemoia for the Golden Age of air travel.  And yet, few reading this are old enough to have experienced travel in the 1950’s and 1960’s. Even so, there is a clear demand for the Golden Age of air travel. For example, there are a number of retailers that still merchandise Pan Am goods despite it being bankrupt for nearly 30 years.

Pan Am is somewhat of a cautionary tale. In 1955, had someone mentioned that – in 1992 – air travel would be a bigger industry but Pan Am would be gone, few would believe it. The airliner, once remembered for glamour, went bankrupt in 1991. A combination of industry deregulation and a lack of investment in booking systems closed the book on nearly 70 years of world renown operations. The TWA hotel is another example. In New York’s JFK airport: plush rooms replaced an empty terminal. The hotel’s Paris Cafe, mid-century architecture, infinity pool, and a room of Peloton bikes expresses a sense of anemoia: air travel’s Golden Age.

For those who endure perpetual business travel, it’s often a pastime to imagine the foregone era of cocktails and business suits. Sophistication, spaciousness, and exquisite service were the rules of the day. Today, these ideals are the exception. Air travel is an altogether different product; it’s inexpensive enough for the masses. But travel didn’t just become more accessible, the entire product changed. For every Qatar Airlines or Qantas, there is a Spirit or a Frontier Airlines. Down-market and highly accessible, airliners have shifted to an economy-first model. Market leaders employ a strategy that requires economies of scale to tip the scales of razor thin profitability.

In this era of flight travel, someone’s foot is on your arm rest. There is an infant’s snot on your right shoe. And you’ve gorged yourself on peanuts and coffee made of brown powder and potable water. When you think of the Golden Age of air travel, you think of a cocktail party with wings. Today, you think of a metro bus equipped with bags of Doritos.

For many, the American airport is no longer an aspirational destination. Yes, there are lounges. And yes, terminals are being redeveloped to meet the demands of modern consumers. And Delta’s food is edible. But as long as flights are $100 from Columbus to Miami, the entire industry drags with it. Air travel will be remain chore to achieve the pleasure and no longer the pleasure, itself. This should be a lesson to today’s retail brands. What happens when you move down market? It becomes a different product altogether. The consumers make the market.

When we think about the Golden Age of Flying–the glory years of Pan Am and the Concorde in the 1950s and 1960s, before flight became cheap with the rise of the jumbo jet–we imagine a colorful, lavish era in which our every comfort and requirement is catered to. [2]

In the United States, the devolution of American air travel should serve as a case study to retailers. There are 5,170 airports open to the general public. None are in the world’s top fifteen. America is the land of the free with your purchase. We are addicted to down-market expansion and excessive promotion.

Anemoia influences consumer sentiment in indirect ways, not just the nostalgia for specific things. This type of nostalgia also influences certain principles. For example, despite the appeal of pricing promotions, consumers want exclusivity. In most cases, people yearn for a time when things were “better” or “more valuable.” Even if they don’t know exactly what that means. Consumers reward the brands that provide that sensation. These products are capable of generating a veblen effect. This effect is often seen in brands like Off-WhiteSupreme, or Yeezy. Brands with the highest value are known as veblen brands. A veblen brand defies economic law. As price rises, so can demand.

And yet, many brand managers and chief marketers forget this. These days, pricing integrity and product exclusivity are as foreign as the top 15 airports. It’s as if promotional pricing 101 is the first course taught in the halls of the finest business schools in the country. In effect, brands are choosing to compete in the red ocean of a dwindling middle-class rather than an often-uncontested market of modern luxury buyers. Rather than making the competition irrelevant, brands are choosing to compete head on. Their modeling suggested that total addressable market (TAM) would be greater that way.

Rather than a go-to-market that appeals to a growing number of modern luxury consumers and HENRY’s (high earners, not rich yet), many DTC brands optimize message, branding, and ad spend to reach a contracting number of middle-class consumers. Or worse, off-price consumers who’ve yet to fully adopt online retail as a method of consumption. It’s unclear whether or not this dynamic is contributing to a rising CAC but the shifting dynamics of an audience should concern marketers. [3]

When TWA Hotel chose to furnish their facilities with items like Peloton bicycles, they did so because of what it communicated to consumers: perceived luxury. Yet, if this past week was any indication, it’s Peloton that is headed the way of American air travel.

People think of Peloton as a product for hyper-achieving rich elitists because that’s how it branded itself at first. Now, the company is trying to walk back that idea because it got its own appeal totally wrong. It’s not going well! [4]

Peloton and Lightning in a Bottle

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Very middle-class living room.

Occasionally, a business can experience lightning in the bottle, tangential growth that is unexplained and unaccounted for. The company’s recent marketing efforts and responses to criticism both suggest that it has yet to come to terms with the origin of that lightning. The photo to the left is from Peloton’s 2013 Kickstarter. You won’t find the word “luxury” on the page. But the photos are worth a thousand words. It’s almost as if they built a product without an understanding of what it would take to buy one. And then actively disowned those who did. Prior to the launch of its financing option, a Peloton owner would have to possess each of the following:

  • ample room for storage: 15 – 20 sq. ft. for the cycle or 40-50 sq. ft. for the treadmill
  • a convenient storage position with electrical access
  • superior wi-fi that is capable enough to stream classes without interruption
  • around $4,000 of disposable income
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Peloton’s demographic is just 15% of American households

These four things sound relatively basic to some. However, even with out ~ 2,000 sq. ft. home in the urban center of our midwestern city,  there is exactly one small area that worked in our house. That would seem to to place us at the lower end of Peloton buyers. And yet, recent advertising efforts are intent on convincing the mainstream that the aforementioned requirements aren’t markers of upward mobility. While Peloton’s current c-suite would contend that it is neither a luxury brand nor a fitness company, the brand’s former CMO (Lori Tauber Marcus) explained her advertising strategy as such, in 2016:

Because we are a disruptive innovation, we have to explain to consumers what the Peloton fitness proposition is. My hope is that the campaign continues to elevate the brand while educating consumers about this transformational in-home exercise phenomenon. [5]

Elevate the brand, it did. Not only did Peloton instructors become household names, the cycle became somewhat of a status symbol among fitness-interested suburbanites. The hardware became more than a connected tool for fitness. Peloton became an aspirational brand. Two camps began to emerge:

  • Non-users: “Peloton is a stationary bike with an iPad attached.”
  • Power-users: “Peloton is a community of successful, motivated a-types.”

So Peloton’s recent post-ad stock decline should have served as a wake up to the company’s leadership. Consumer sentiment matters. Daniel McCarthy, an assistant marketing professor of marketing at Emory University, told Forbes:

[Negative Consumer Sentiment] can cause companies like Peloton to exhibit a lot more stock price volatility when there are events that can cause people’s views to move up or down. I think that is exactly what we are seeing right now.

Peloton is no longer interested in becoming the elevated fitness brand that Lori Marcus envisioned. In fact, she held the position for fewer than eight months. The new direction, driven by the company’s desire for SaaS multiples and profitability, has emerged in recent months.

Peloton and The Mainstream

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The now-infamous ad featuring “Peloton Wife” came and went. The Aviation Gin advertisement came and went. According to New York Times reporter Tiffany Hsu: 

[Ryan Reynolds] heard about the Peloton ad via text at 2:34 p.m. on Tuesday, when the company’s stock was falling. By Wednesday morning, he was on a call with the actress, Monica Ruiz. “She was game,” he said. “She really does have an excellent and incredibly evolved sense of humor.”

And Darren Rovell, Reynolds’ viral ad received $9.3 million in exposure by December 7th, just a day after the ad premiered. But the overblown outrage towards Peloton will not remain, nor will the memes. However, Peloton’s lack of pricing integrity will impact the company for quite some time. The market fell another 4% when Peloton announced its subscription discount.

Founder and CEO John Foley’s response today was to double down and dismiss any and all criticisms.

That was last week. We don’t have to do much more in order to be one of the great consumer companies of the next couple of decades. If you’re thinking hard about getting a treadmill, I don’t know where you are going to go. Fitness equipment has been a dopey category with dopey products. It’s an albatross we are trying to shake as we build one of the most innovative companies of our day.

This confirms that Peloton doesn’t want to compete in the fitness category, after all. But it may also inform a lack of industry awareness. Rogue is an indirect competitor to Peloton; the Columbus, Ohio company began as a barbell manufacturer but has since built patented fitness machinery (including stationary bikes). And while the cycling company likely leads in revenues (Rogue is very private), it cannot be by much. Additionally, Rogue shares Peloton’s core competencies (software development and product engineering) while also possessing mastery over packaging development, fabrication (domestic and international), sourcing intellectual property, shipping, and native tracking. It’s also important to note that while Peloton raised $994 million while a private company, Rogue raised $0. Rogue is profitable.

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One could argue that little of this matters; software development is Peloton’s chief concern. In an effort to grow the user base, Peloton recently reduced its digital-only subscription. The digital-only subscription, originally $19.49, is now $12.99.

Peloton’s internal consensus is that profitability will only come through deep discounting, heavy de-risking, and a high-margin software model. This model is incompatible with current consumer sentiment. The product that many early consumers paid $3,000 may be commodities by Q4 of 2020. Because Peloton began as a product for some and became a product for everyone. Business strategist Marc Ross recently published How Peloton went from being Porsche to being Honda with one advertisement. In it, he contends.

It is not wrong and not without merit to have goals to build a huge brand, have millions of customers globally, and chase billions in market capitalization – it is just that the company you want doesn’t mean the market is there. [6]

It’s unclear whether Peloton’s management fully understands the attrition risk involved. Until recently, the company’s strength has been two-pronged: (1) its on-screen, aspirational fitness talent and (2) its cult-like early adopters. Peloton is shifting away from a premium model because it now contends that it never meant to be a luxury product.

The market may reward Peloton for leaning into new methods of influence and acquisition. However, their management won’t begin to see the unintended effects of mass adoption (and increased churn) until its early marketing flywheel begins to sully. [7] But for many of Peloton’s early adopters, they see cracks in the anemoia that benefited the brand early on. Consumers look for retailers to hold steady. In Christopher Muther’s 2014 article, “What happened to air travel?” he wrote:

As competition grew and prices dropped, something had to give, and that something was free booze and fancy meals. Lower prices helped democratize air travel, but it effectively squashed the halcyon glow of the golden age.

Consumers want the Golden Age to last forever but it rarely does. For Peloton, it remains to be seen. There are few brands like Porsche, there are many brands like Honda. And in this way, it’s likely that the the story of air travel is more universally applicable than not. And so, consumers will imprint on the next breakout brand that represents a premium experience, exclusivity, and sophistication. This is how anemoia works in American consumerism. We want what we believe once existed. Book reviewer Kevin Gardner wrote the following reevaluation of Hartley’s “The Go-Between”, 60 years after its publishing date: 

Hartley’s tale […] underscores the modern experience of broken time, a paradox in which humanity is alienated from the past, yet not free from it, a past that continues to exist in and to control the subconscious.

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