The cool looking sign above is prominently displayed across a wealth of material in my local London branch of American Apparel and it made me wonder if the brand has considered how well it travels (it’s sold in eleven countries). I did a little light digging on the brand’s website to understand its intended message and, combining this with what I intuit from the sign myself, here are a few observations made through British eyes:

1. American Apparel typically uses nubile lovelies who can themselves be seen as “made in the USA”- we are being invited to buy into that glamour. No problem - we’ve been admirers of American style since the dawn of Hollywood.

2. The brand comes from the home of the t-shirt so can claim product expertise and a sense of quality. Again nothing new - American products from Zippos to Levis have typically been viewed in the UK as well made (even if the production is now actually foreign).

3. The claim chimes with another strand of American Apparel behaviour: “Legalize L.A.” which refers to its proud employment of a high proportion of Latin Americans and touches on related immigration issues. From a foreign perspective one can only think: your country, your business.

4. The clothes are not produced in a sweatshop – well that’s of universal appeal.

5. But here’s the sticky one: within The States this message infers that in a time of recession it’s patriotic to invest in home-grown products. As one ad says “When you buy American Apparel you’re not only buying great products. You’re contributing to California’s tax base”. Gee thanks - this makes the a-ok hand logo the equivalent of flipping the rest of us the bird. We might happily lap up the idea of American cool and American quality, but asking us to celebrate our contribution to our own trade defecit is a little rich. I’m aware that I’m being quite Colonel Blimpish. And that so long as we think the clothes make us look sexy any perceived cultural imperialism will be an irrelevance for most consumers. But I do think this highlights the importance of local sensibilities for global brands.

Still, American culture has a self-confidence which generally does pride in an engaging, convincing way. When we had our own “I’m backing Britain” campaign in the late sixties it quickly became a bit of a joke, typified by the buffoonish Tim Brooke-Taylor in the Goodies. This considered, perhaps we self-deprecating Brits are fair game for foreigners to lord it over? Of course, this is all a storm in a teacup when the vast majority of products seem to come from China, but one man’s bombastic pride can be another’s poke in the eye.

New logos for old brands inevitably get a lot of flack – they’re easy targets. In the interests of wanting to avoid being seen as too much of a smart-arse I normally resist the temptation to join in. But I think the new Peugeot logo is worth talking about because it is a good example of how the design process can incrementally polish away a brand’s marque until the end result stops expressing the original point. The previous Peugeot mascot was no oil painting, but it did look broadly like a lion, with the serpent tongue and flat profile evoking a medieval heraldic emblem. The new one has chubby paws and looks a long way from the origins of the 1850 original (Peugeot began by making saws, and the lion was intended to evoke “the toughness of the teeth, the flexibility of the blade, and the speed of the cut”). So down the years the lion mutated as follows:

And now we have a generic 3-D rendered beast, literally de-clawed of his vitality (but, drearily, aligned with sibling brand Citroen). All in all, it’s easy to criticise, but more importantly this case study acts as a warning to all of us of the pitfalls of evolving a brand’s equities until the original intention becomes lost.

Still, the new logo will look at home on the new electric iOn….

This parody of the Michael Cera filmography (you know him – he’s the dorky teen in a handful of indie-style comedies) popped up online this month.  Because Cera epitomises a certain style of quirky film we get the joke, though in fairness not all his posters feature this font. However, someone should get to work on designing a font called “Sundance Festival” or “Twee” such is the ubiquity of the doodle to signify this genre:

Ironic that an intelligent, off-beat, indie vibe is evoked in such a uniform by-the-numbers way. I’m sure film marketers know that the cliché works – when choosing a movie it tells us exactly what we will be getting, much as 3-D metallic sans serif lets you know it’s a superhero action movie. But what clichés give in terms of clarity they deplete in distinctiveness. Arguably it’s significant that the two recent “breakout” indie films which won wider audiences both had typography with a mind of its own:

Perhaps this suggests that if you don’t want to be pigeon-holed to a narrow audience, it’s smart to avoid expressing yourself too literally through the conventions of your category.

The agency spy blog carried this rather brazen piece of disingenuous communication. I’m not sure what all the facts are, although the site commented “It’s bad enough that Hershey’s has the audacity to make health-benefit claims on a bottle containing chocolate syrup. But by some oddity of logic, the nutrition facts lists the daily calcium percentage at “0%”. During a recession, flat is the new up?”

I think, example aside, this is further evidence that in the digital age everything gets scrutinised, and if there is evidence of duplicity it can travel far and fast. This isn’t in the same league as the bad image Nestle picked up for its promotion of bottle milk in Africa, nor potentially the feel-bad factor Maclaren has acquired over the alleged risk of infants severing digits on its products. On a hard-headed level, it makes good sense to do the right thing -  trust is a priceless commodity. How crazy in this case to squander it for the sake of a dreary “added value” pack claim.

Is the pack’s designer to blame? One could argue they were certainly an (unwitting?) accomplice here. The onus is arguably on the design company to be as wary of the information they are asked to artwork as a consumer watchdog would be. But in the real world trust is important not just towards brands but towards clients.

Gap: Gosh, she must be tall

In a good article rounding up the noughties Word magazine points out that one of the biggest but most subtle changes in our world has been the rise of Photoshop. With even news photography becoming questionable, we are now living in a world where we can no longer believe our eyes. Re-touching is nothing new – it used to be the province of craftsmen delicately manipulating photographic prints. The fundamental change with Photoshop is that now everyone can, and does, airbrush reality. And with the technology so accessible and user friendly, restraint and common sense often go out of the window. We all know that every model and famous face in every magazine doesn’t share the same plastic sheen because of a quirk of genetics, and there can’t be a food photograph on a pack in the UK which has not at least been colour corrected digitally. But what does it mean for brands?

Photoshop disasters, from which the images shown here are drawn, offers a fantastic guide on how not to improve on reality.  While putting yourself in a good light makes sense, if consumers can’t trust your promise, they can’t trust your brand. Simply put, with all the airbrushing now at our disposal, the responsibility on visualisers, art directors and clients to ensure that what they are cobbling together is a true reflection of reality has increased. That means having a good eye for proportion, detail, lighting, colour – all the things, ironically, that a decent realist painter might have. As a single example, I recently headed off at the pass an image of food on a fork where the scale of the fork suggested that the product was the size of a truck. This wasn’t down to deliberate manipulation, just an ill considered (but potentially dangerous) piece of comping.

Our head of visualising, Stephanie Heasman, offered a couple of interesting observations for this piece. Firstly, that with so much ability to “fix in the mix” the image, she is seeing a drop in the general standard of the photography she is presented with. The best photography gets things right “in camera”. Good photographers cost more, but they’re worth it. Secondly, legislation and a general desire for food to look natural rather than synthetic has seen a big reduction in the amount of re-touching demanded by clients – less is definitely more. The days of plastic food and such-like are over, but my advice would be to keep a sharp eye on how you present yourself, lest you lose consumer trust or end up a Photoshop disaster.

Does that hair look natural?

Does that head go with those hands?

Disney say Mickey is losing his appeal for youngsters: he’s making less money and he needs to get an edge. So they’re giving him one in his new video game. But is it true that kids can no longer like a purely benign character? Or that in the family friendly era of Wii, having an edge is essential? Or that by making Mickey more like every other character, he’s going to be more popular (as opposed to less unique)?

Wanting Mickey to be less “corporate” makes sense, but isn’t this a consequence of milking him as a voiceless smiling waving mascot (when he could have been given a role with far richer content), rather than because he is too nice? Making any well loved mascot get down with the kids carries the risk of being naff. But Mickey has transcended fashion for decades. Perhaps as Gloria Swanson said in Sunset Boulevard “I am big! It’s the pictures that got small”. And perhaps the lesson for any mascots’ custodians is to use them creatively and nurture them with a significant role if you don’t want their magic to wear thin.

If one ever needed proof of the power symbols hold, here it is - back in the eighties, when the London Design Museum was still at the blueprint stage, various cultural commentators and design experts were asked what they would exhibit in pride of place. Stephen Bayley’s response (and I’m paraphrasing – it was a long time ago) was the Spitfire because never before had something of such aesthetic perfection played such a vital role in our nation’s history. The answer stuck with me – the fighter plane, from its smooth lines to its distinctive Merlin engine roar is truly a thing of beauty, and an obvious symbol of Britain acting at its very best. So it’s not just the Generals, who complained in an open letter on Tuesday, who resent its image being hijacked by “political extremists”. But as part of our nation’s cultural fabric, perhaps the only people who can lay claim to moral ownership of this symbol are the few remaining pilots who flew them for us (and of course the BNP managed to find one to join their party). So perhaps the Spitfire is actually not off limits to anyone, no matter how wrong-headed one might consider their politics to be?

I would suggest that the easiest way to rob this appropriation of its oxygen would be for all parties to adopt the Spitfire in their campaign imagery. This might sound fatuous, but Billy Bragg, the Bard of Barking, made a bit of noise a few years back when he called for a “reclaiming” of the flag of St George from the racists who had hijacked it. “Let’s bring the flag of St George home and reclaim it as one of the symbols that we use to express an alternative identity that is diverse, outward-looking and inclusive.” Similarly, I think the Spitfire as a symbol of freedom might be worth fighting for. On a lighter note, here’s an appropriation of the symbol that might be a bit politically incorrect, but the campaign made me laugh…

Along with generic price war advertising, supermarkets are all promoting their own value lines, which generally share a common design aesthetic…

When launching a line of hundreds of products to be dotted about a giant supermarket it clearly makes sense to go for a simple and impactful design system. And using one’s brand colours makes equal sense. And if you are selling a “no frills” line then the easiest way to communicate your proposition is to get rid of the visual frills. But does such an approach, taken to extremes, look so basic that it devalues both the products and the store?

I won’t forget an impassioned argument put forward at a jkr company chat by designer Martin Francis a few years ago, where he laid into value own label packaging for looking not just cheap but ugly. His point was not a designer lovey one - rather he was saying that everyone, no matter what they are spending, deserves to have nice looking packs - why make folk feel like they are getting the cheapo rubbish with design to match? Making the basics range look more attractive might confuse a “good, better, best” strategy, but I suppose there are degrees of design refinement that can be applied. At the other extreme of the product spectrum Chanel No. 5’s box is simple and basic but it has enough nuance to also be beautiful. Still, Coco wasn’t stuck with making a bright yellow pack look appealing.

John Ruskin, who thought deeper and knew more than most of us ever will about aesthetics, was a progressive champion of the importance of art and beauty for the “common man” - although his writing came before the age of the soundbite, so I’ll leave the last words to him. “A thing is worth what it can do for you, not what you choose to pay for it.”

I do, that’s the problem – but do you find you cut some brands more slack than others? That in fact the more you respect a brand the more you ask of it? I have loved National Geographic since I was a kid. I’m not sure if its photography is always the very best in the world, but put that yellow frame around an image and the image itself is elevated in my mind. As a magazine it reveals the beauty, drama and fragility of life on Earth in each issue. It’s on these high standards that it has been able to diversify into retail, television channels etc. And the yellow frame has become an instantly recognisable badge which is flexible enough to look great in myriad brand contexts. That  yellow frame is a promise of quality and gravitas.

So these Ambi Pur natural scents which team up with the National Geographic brand raise some questions for me. I can see the product to natural expert fit. And I get that the outer packaging is recyclable. But this still feels like a far from green initiative. So why worry? After all, it’s not like there aren’t plenty of these things around, and all National Geographic is doing is endorsing another one. But that’s the trouble with brands which have values, and brands that get you to love them. When you feel like they aren’t being true to their principles, one can get a bit emotional. Perhaps the magazine has no control over such deals. In which case, it’s risking its good reputation by appearing to be happy to sell their good name to things where the fit to values seems curious. I guess the point I am making is that once a brand shows an awareness on certain issues, it has to also act on that awareness. As my boss Andy Knowles often says “ a principle is only a principle when it costs you money”. And ironically, values aside, this does look like a somewhat arbitrary use of the National Geographic logo on the packaging.

In anyone’s book, Harry Beck’s Tube map is a design classic and surely the most famous piece of graphics to signify “London”. Surprising then, given current activity to establish a graphic identity for London, that TfL decided to remove not just the zones but also the river in the latest map redesign. This arguably meddles with the capital’s graphic crown jewels. A furious Boris Johnson has ordered these key elements to be returned, urging Londoners to “imagine the Thames in place until it reappears on the maps”.

It’s been suggested that the reason given for the change - greater simplicity in the spirit of the original design - was a cover for removing the zones ahead of re-pricing or re-zoning. ‘The London Paper’ was a bit hysterical in calling this the first major change since 1933. A glance at that map shows the original has been overhauled incrementally many times, but there is no doubt that removing the Thames would be a drastic step.

The genius of Beck’s original map was to take inspiration from a circuit diagram and break with the traditional approach to cartography, where distances are to scale. But the river has always been a key navigation aid for many of us, and the one element that links the stations on the map to a sense of what’s above ground. Simply put, it bolted the map to London. Taking away the river would reduce the map’s sense of soul, and make functional perfection feel just a little too functional. As an agency we often recommend paring things back to essentials but this would have been a step too far for us. So thank you Boris for saving the crown jewels!