Published on February 22, 2020 by Russ Onish
A long time ago, back in the twenty-tens, times were simpler. Allow me to illustrate.
My wife and I used to live in Berkeley, California. It is a vibrant city on the cusp of many trends: social, political, and culinary. It is the home of celebrity-chef, author, and food activist Alice Waters and her world renowned restaurant, Chez Panisse. Ms. Waters also operated Café Fanny, a simple French café named after her daughter and grandmother, where she served her mother’s simple and delicious granola recipe.
Even after the restaurant closed, the Café Fanny granola lived on commercially (owned since 2012 by Cassandra Chen). It is still baked with the same recipe and the same simple, organic ingredients: rolled oats, honey, sunflower oil, sunflower seeds, whole wheat flour, sliced almonds, sesame seeds, and raisins. Now that our family lives in Philadelphia we order it online.
My wife is the primary consumer in our household, but I will attest that Café Fanny is a premium, gourmet product. At $8 per box plus shipping, she values it as a special treat and it elevates above the competition for a variety of reasons: rational (organic ingredients), perceptual (delicious taste), and emotional (reminiscent of Berkeley).
Now, let’s be honest with each other. When you first read the word “granola” what came to your mind? Is it good for me or bad for me? Is it too high in sugar, carbohydrates, or fat? Does it have good fat or bad fat? Will it raise or reduce my cholesterol? Does it have enough protein? Is breakfast the most important meal of the day or was that a deception planted in my mind by powerful cereal companies? Is it for liberal hippies or does it conform with my political views?
While I’m perfectly comfortable with my choices on this matter, professionally I care intensely about what you think, about what your friends and neighbors think, and about what others think. Evidently, so does Café Fanny. See for yourself…
Last year’s package (so out of step with current sensibilities), simply communicated Café Fanny organic granola, original flavor, hand-made, honey sweetened, and USDA organic certified. A transparent window allowed you to see the product, but who among us could buy something this complicated with so little information? The back of the package told the heritage story about Alice Waters and her mother’s recipe, handmade and served from her restaurant. How quaint.
The new package solves the communication problem. The brand logo remains unchanged, but the faint honeycomb imagery has been replaced with a battery of benefit claims that today’s shoppers demand: no sodium, no cholesterol, no transfat, soy free, GMO free, hi protein, 100% healthy (hard to quantify so precisely), 100% hearty (the science is amazing), with a smattering of ingredients filling up the empty space. The first time I saw it I was sure it read “Hi Protein Bats” but I was fortunately mistaken.
That quaint story on the back package about Alice Waters’ Berkeley café has been supplanted and contemporized with more benefit claims that somehow couldn’t make the cut for front of package: omega 3’s, hi fiber, antioxidants, no sugar, no salt (in case you didn’t get the “no sodium” on the front), and of course, ancient grains. It doesn’t say how ancient the grains are so you’re going to have to roll the dice on that one.
My intent is not to be unkind to Café Fanny. I will state again for the record that they make excellent granola and if you like granola you should really try it for yourself (mea culpa). This example is merely illustrative of the larger trend: categories are fragmenting, finicky shoppers are information-obsessed, and brands are furiously maneuvering to resonate with them on evolving dimensions of health, environmentalism, and social responsibility, each of which is complex and controversial.
So why did granola become so complicated? Well, why would anyone expect a hard seltzer to deliver antioxidants or a coffee creamer to promote mental clarity? Why did we start demanding that our pizza crusts be made with cauliflower or that our soup broths promote healthy joints? Why do we want toilet bowl cleaners to be chemical-free and veggie burgers to be soy-free? I don’t know whether this is transparency or insanity, but this is undoubtedly our world today.
Nevertheless, a brand cannot be all things to all people. A food or beverage package should not read like a Wikipedia article. There’s something lost when shopping becomes this hard. There is a major opportunity for better communication through good design that makes its claims simply and elegantly. I wish I could convince shoppers to chill out and just buy their granola because they like it, but until that happens marketers still need to make choices, prioritize what they stand for, and communicate it clearly.
Vista Grande can help. If you think you need it please check out our Brand Choice Architecture™ service at the following link: Brand Choice Architecture
Meanwhile, I'm going to have a bowl of Café Fanny (should it be soy milk, almond milk, cashew milk, coconut milk...)
