Our name defines us (and no, I'm not quoting the latest Jeep Compass commercial), it's the truth. You grow up with your name and, generally, you love it. It makes you who you are. Your name brings out your personality, it lets people identify you.
Now, we don't usually walk around with name tags on, but when we do, we generally put our real names. I've been to meet-and-greets and written under the “name” line: Miranda. I didn't put “Princess,” “Car Girl,” or even “Queen” (however much I wanted to). I branded myself with my name. I'm proud of my name, as I should be.
So, what happens to a car company that nixes their identity in favour of trying to create a new image?
Is that like the girl in high school who hated her name and changed it to “Bunny” in college? Because, I can betcha that Bunny isn't getting half the respect that Jessica did in grade 10, despite her hatred for her own name.
And it's not just about a bad name choice, it's about denouncing who you are. And this applies as much to cars as it does to people. Hear me out on this one.
A few weeks ago I drove a vehicle that sports a unique badge on its front bumper, steering wheel and even its shift knob. I say unique because it's never been seen before. It was branded as if it was an entirely new make of vehicle. However, step round to the rear and there blazoned in the middle of the bumper is an instantly recognizable logo.
So, here's my issue with this vehicle: What are they trying to prove here? Are they like Bunny, trying to reinvent themselves and hope that no one remembers their Jessica days so they can continue on with their new friends and personality? But that can't be because the unrecognizable crest isn't even a new name, it's simply a symbol associated with the model, used to mask the automakers name and confuse the general public till you reach the backend of the car.
The model itself is unlike any other vehicle offered by this well-known brand. It's high-end, luxurious and competes with some of the more elite vehicles on the road today. The price tag is also one not seen by this company before. It really is in a league all its own and quite far removed from the usual lineup of vehicles offered by this car company.
I wondered why they wouldn't want to slap their mark boldly all over this sophisticated-looking ride. I saw it as the perfect opportunity for them to change their reputation, to squish the naysayers. Yet, it was pointed out to me that once a stereotype was in place (be it for a person or a car), it's very hard to break said stereotype without going to the extreme.
And so I've come to the conclusion that the unrecognizable vehicle is rather like Jessica on Halloween in high school, before she changed her name in College. She dressed up as a Playboy Bunny in the hopes of making an impression on others, that they'll remember her as being cute and sexy and carefree, so that when she goes back to being plane old Jessica they'll still say, “Oh, but remember, Jessica can be the life of the party when she wants to be.”
Now, we don't usually walk around with name tags on, but when we do, we generally put our real names. I've been to meet-and-greets and written under the “name” line: Miranda. I didn't put “Princess,” “Car Girl,” or even “Queen” (however much I wanted to). I branded myself with my name. I'm proud of my name, as I should be.
So, what happens to a car company that nixes their identity in favour of trying to create a new image?
Is that like the girl in high school who hated her name and changed it to “Bunny” in college? Because, I can betcha that Bunny isn't getting half the respect that Jessica did in grade 10, despite her hatred for her own name.
And it's not just about a bad name choice, it's about denouncing who you are. And this applies as much to cars as it does to people. Hear me out on this one.
A few weeks ago I drove a vehicle that sports a unique badge on its front bumper, steering wheel and even its shift knob. I say unique because it's never been seen before. It was branded as if it was an entirely new make of vehicle. However, step round to the rear and there blazoned in the middle of the bumper is an instantly recognizable logo.
So, here's my issue with this vehicle: What are they trying to prove here? Are they like Bunny, trying to reinvent themselves and hope that no one remembers their Jessica days so they can continue on with their new friends and personality? But that can't be because the unrecognizable crest isn't even a new name, it's simply a symbol associated with the model, used to mask the automakers name and confuse the general public till you reach the backend of the car.
The model itself is unlike any other vehicle offered by this well-known brand. It's high-end, luxurious and competes with some of the more elite vehicles on the road today. The price tag is also one not seen by this company before. It really is in a league all its own and quite far removed from the usual lineup of vehicles offered by this car company.
I wondered why they wouldn't want to slap their mark boldly all over this sophisticated-looking ride. I saw it as the perfect opportunity for them to change their reputation, to squish the naysayers. Yet, it was pointed out to me that once a stereotype was in place (be it for a person or a car), it's very hard to break said stereotype without going to the extreme.
And so I've come to the conclusion that the unrecognizable vehicle is rather like Jessica on Halloween in high school, before she changed her name in College. She dressed up as a Playboy Bunny in the hopes of making an impression on others, that they'll remember her as being cute and sexy and carefree, so that when she goes back to being plane old Jessica they'll still say, “Oh, but remember, Jessica can be the life of the party when she wants to be.”