9807050178
DETROIT FREE PRESS
980705
Sunday, July 05, 1998
METRO FINAL
1H
MITCH ALBOM
Copyright (c) 1998, Detroit Free Press
CORPORATE AMERICA IS STALKING COOLNESS
Iremember when I first used the word "cool." I was maybe 8 or 9, and my older
sister was playing one of her records.
"This is really cool," she said.
"Yeah, cool!" I repeated.
I had no idea what we were talking about. I think it was the Partridge Family.
But it felt good to say "cool." I knew, deep down, that I needed to be cool. I
knew that cool would let me be with other cool people doing other cool things,
which -- given the era -- meant antiestablishment.
So you can imagine my shock last week when I read in the New York Times that
big marketing firms now regularly employ cool hunters. These people, aged 14
to 30, scour the country for the next cool trends, then run and tell
corporations so they can market the hell out of them and make a big, fat
fortune.
I am really depressed.
Also, I heard that the Partridge Family broke up.
But back to these cool hunters. According to the Times, they work for research
firms named Iconoculture, Sputnik and Agent X. These are research firms? They
sound like garage bands. There's even one called Youth Intelligence, which, as
any parent knows, doesn't exist on this planet.
Anyhow, these firms tell big companies such as Coca-Cola, MTV and General
Mills what the really cool kids are doing. Then Mr. Marketing calls Mr. Sales
calls Mr. Promotions, and next thing you know, there's an offer to get a
tattoo when you buy a phone card.
Which really happened! Sprint, the long-distance company -- acting on the
predictions of cool hunters -- offered temporary tattoos to people signing up
for its service.
The good old days
Now, I hate to sound like a '60s burnout here, but wasn't cool supposed to be
the antithesis of marketing? Cool was that small FM station that you
discovered first, or a shirt that nobody else had, or the way your favorite
singer wore his hair. It wasn't meant to be dished out like birdseed --
especially not by corporations.
But in an effort to justify jobs that shouldn't exist, firms hire cool hunters
-- I call them spies, and I want them hunted and shot for treason -- to "prowl
inner-city basketball courts and fashionable nightclubs ...observing the
arbiters of coolness whose tastes may eventually be adopted by the general
populace."
Funny. As a kid, I played on inner-city basketball courts. I don't ever recall
getting up in the morning, opening my clothes drawer and saying, "Hmm, what
can I wear that will be adopted by the general populace?" I just wanted
something to sweat in.
But don't tell that to Tru Pettigrew. Tru (does he have a brother, Blu?), who
the Times says works for a Boston advertising firm as the Voice of the
Consumer, is hired to spot youth trends. He is 30 years old, spends a lot of
time in schoolyards and nightclubs, and gets paid for it. (Sounds to me like
Tru might change his name to Scam, but that's another column.)
Anyhow, Tru, in an effort to keep hip, has established a network of teachers
and coaches in major cities across America to put him in contact with
teenagers.
Hey, Tru. I know families that will give you their teenagers! Take them home
with you. Study them all you want. Give them a shower while you're at it.
But no, Tru just wants to see which way kids are wearing their hats and how
long they're slinging their pants, so that his agency -- full of men in
designer clothes -- can be on the cutting edge.
No wonder rap artists wear sunglasses and a scowl. It's all they can do to
keep from laughing.
Faking it
My favorite example of coolness overanalysis is Agent X, which the Times calls
"a cool-hunting firm in Los Angeles that advises the entertainment industry."
Now, how much young advice can people in the entertainment industry need?
Aren't they all 17 years old? Didn't most directors and producers just come
out of schoolyards and nightclubs -- and now they're hiring people to go back?
Anyhow, what kills me about Agent X -- which, come to think of it, sounds like
something that could kill me -- is that it was cofounded by a guy named Adam
Leff, who writes screenplays. And one of his screenplays was "The Last Action
Hero."
One of the biggest bombs in history.
Why would anyone listen to him? Shouldn't he be back in the schoolyard,
studying some kid's pant legs?
But no. In places like Hollywood and Madison Avenue, if you're getting paid
six figures to fake like you know what's happening, you might as well share
the wealth.
Personally, I have my doubts about anyone predicting coolness, since, like
watering plants, if you try too hard to make it grow, you drown it.
But I do know this: Somewhere in a schoolyard, there's a 9-year-old with a
tattoo. And he's owed a really big check.
To leave a message for Mitch Albom, call 1-313-223-4581.
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