Jaguar’s Rebrand Video: A Reflection of Our Times

The age of the charming jingles and catchy slogans has long passed, replaced by a flood of content and brand messages that are more about signalling virtue than selling a product. Jaguar’s recent rebrand video — one that stirred up a variety of reactions — might be the latest example of how advertising has evolved from being a tool of persuasion into a mirror that simply reflects contemporary societal values.

Let’s dismiss, for a moment, the noise out there about repositioning the brand away from tweedy middle-aged pipe-smokers and more toward the uber-rich. Price points on base models are rumoured to start at $500,000. Is the new target Saudi sheiks and Dubai money? Maybe. But let’s look at the message itself.

On the surface, Jaguar’s new ad seems like a classic case of corporate identity crisis. The video, with its dramatic visuals and lofty promises about change, seems to offer more of a cultural manifesto than a traditional car commercial. I’d argue that it feels like a manifesto of our times — reflecting our collective obsession with identity and virtue signalling.

Before we rush to blame Jaguar for the confusion and criticism their ad has stirred, it’s important to take a step back and consider the broader context of our present moment. Jaguar’s rebrand is not an isolated case, nor is it inherently flawed. What we’re seeing is a company — like so many others — trying to navigate the turbulent waters of modern marketing, where the real challenge isn’t about selling a product, but rather aligning with the values that society deems important.

The Virtue of Selfishness

Despite messaging that is vaguely aspirational and considerably vacuous, the ad is steeped in abstract ideas: environmental sustainability, technological progress, inclusivity. The music is some kind of future forward vibe, the visuals are glossy. But all that gloss is simply layered like shellack over the belief that today’s consumers are more interested in how a brand reflects their personal identity than in the actual product itself.

Our Obsession with Self Identity

This points to an even deeper idea. We live in an age where personal identity is paramount. The entire cultural conversation is focused on the self: who we are, how we’re perceived, and what our choices say about us. In such a climate, companies have found a profitable niche ensuring their products line up with individualistic values. Just look at the rise of luxury brands that cater to our desire for exclusivity, the eco-conscious trends pushed by companies like Tesla, or even the fashion industry’s tireless attempts to tap into social movements.

Jaguar, like so many other brands, is simply doing what businesses do: feeding off the market forces of self-expression. They’ve realized that the car you drive is less about practicality and more about what it says about who you are. Jaguar’s rebrand video, with its focus on progress and innovation, can be seen as an attempt to connect with our contemporary obsession to seek self-improvement and self-actualization — whatever that means.

The issue isn’t that Jaguar’s ad promotes selfishness. It’s that we’ve allowed self-centered values to permeate nearly every facet of modern life. In a world where social media platforms encourage narcissism and consumerism is often framed as a path to personal fulfillment, is it really surprising that Jaguar wants to capture the current zeitgeist? The problem, perhaps, is not that Jaguar is too focused on identity, but that identity itself has become commodified and weaponized for corporate gain.

The Triumph of Feels over Reasoning

Another contemporary trend reflected in the rebrand is the shift from rational to emotional decision-making. Once upon a time, buying a car was a matter of balancing specs, performance, and price. Now, it’s about how a car makes you feel—how it aligns with your aspirations, your social values, and your vision of the world.

This isn’t just true for Jaguar; it’s the modus operandi for brands across the board. From the emotional appeal of Apple’s “Think Different” campaign to Nike’s “Just Do It,” we’ve conditioned consumers to make purchases based on emotional triggers rather than logical assessments. Jaguar’s ad follows this pattern: bright, showy (if meaningless) visuals, vibrant music, and a promise of a better future that you can be part of (assuming one dreams of living on a pink planet with glabrous, androgynous people) — if only you buy the right car.

Emotionally-driven marketing is powerful. It taps into our amygdala, that area of the brain that unlocks our deepest desires, fears, and hopes. But it also reveals something troubling about our society: we are increasingly disconnected from rational thinking, and decision-making is more often driven by emotional impulses than by reasoned analysis. The ad doesn’t just try to sell a car — it tries to sell a vision, a feeling, a way of being in the world.

When Capitalism Colonizes Identity

At the heart of Jaguar’s rebrand is a subtle yet telling observation about the state of capitalism today: the commodification of everything. In the past, capitalism was about producing better products, competing on the strength of your offerings. But today, it’s about shifting society to match the needs of corporations. We don’t just buy products; we buy into a narrative, a way of life that’s been carefully crafted by marketers who understand the art of social rent-seeking.

Social rent-seeking, in its simplest form, means that companies no longer just try to improve their products; they shape culture and society to match their products. Jaguar’s ad doesn’t merely showcase its latest model; it proposes an entire worldview that aligns with its brand values — progressive, inclusive, sustainable. In this sense, the car becomes a symbol of something much larger, and we, as consumers, are asked to buy into this cultural shift.

We see this in many industries, from fashion brands shaping trends to tech companies influencing everything from our social interactions to our political views. The ad is part of a broader strategy where companies seek to mold society in ways that make their products more desirable — not by improving the products themselves, but by making their products synonymous with the values that we aspire to.

The Ad Is Not the Problem

So, is the Jaguar ad the problem? Not exactly. It’s just the latest symptom of a larger cultural shift — a shift where advertising no longer just aims to sell a product, but instead tries to mold our identities, our emotions, and even our values. The ad may be a bit over-the-top and a tad disconnected from the everyday realities of most consumers. But it’s not uniquely misguided. It’s merely a reflection of the world we live in today.

In the end, the real issue is not with Jaguar’s ad. It’s with the times we’re living in — where companies like Jaguar are merely playing the game that has been set for them.

The New Way to Write Ads Without Actually Having to Think

In the brave new world of advertising, the marriage of creativity and data analytics is all the rage. Gone are the days when creatives would lock themselves away in dark rooms, fuelled by caffeine and the occasional existential crisis, dreaming up ideas in a vacuum. Now, we’re harnessing AI-powered data analytics, and asking ourselves: why trust our own instincts when we can trust algorithms? If I had a dollar for every time I heard a data point invoked in a pitch meeting, I could retire to a quiet beach, sipping a cocktail—something with an umbrella sticking out of it flavoured with regret at the disappearance of the good old creative chaos.

The reality is that AI has stepped into the advertising arena like a well-dressed consultant at a barbecue: it’s a little awkward, but it’s here to stay. Through sophisticated data analysis, AI helps marketers glean insights about consumer behavior, preferences, and trends faster than you can say “A/B testing.” All this newfound data-driven creativity opens a Pandora’s box of opportunities—and pitfalls—blurring the lines between art and science.

Data-Driven Creativity

Imagine a world where creative teams can monitor real-time engagement metrics while their campaigns are live. Picture a budding creative director watching their latest masterpiece unfold on social media, scrutinizing engagement data like a hawk. It’s thrilling, yet slightly terrifying—like surfing a wave of metrics, teetering on the brink of success or a spectacular wipeout. AI provides this exhilarating ride, offering insights that can guide creative decisions mid-campaign. If only it could also help me decide whether I should have that second slice of pizza.

Here’s how it works: AI algorithms sift through mountains of data, identifying patterns that inform everything from target demographics to optimal posting times. This information can transform a run-of-the-mill campaign into something that resonates on a visceral level. But therein lies the rub: creativity isn’t merely a formula to be plugged into a machine. It’s an art form, requiring intuition, emotional intelligence, and a dash of whimsy.

Let’s consider the concept of “predictive analytics.” AI can analyze historical data to forecast future consumer behavior. It’s as if the marketing team suddenly has a crystal ball—an algorithmic one, mind you. While this can lead to more effective targeting and improved ROI, the danger is that teams might become overly reliant on data, treating it as gospel rather than a guide. Creativity could become boxed in, confined to metrics and KPIs, losing that delightful spark that makes it truly engaging.

Take the classic case of a now infamous campaign that went terribly awry. In 2017, Pepsi launched a commercial featuring Kendall Jenner that was meant to symbolize unity and peace. However, it was met with public outrage and ridicule, largely because it was tone-deaf to the real social issues it tried to address. Had Pepsi engaged in rigorous data analysis beforehand, perhaps they could have foreseen the backlash. But that’s the paradox: data can provide valuable insights, yet it doesn’t replace the need for empathy and cultural awareness.

How AI is Shapes Creative Strategies in Advertising

Enter AI’s role as a double-edged sword. On one side, it equips creatives with invaluable insights; on the other, it risks homogenizing ideas. In this data-driven world, one could argue that we may soon see a slew of “data-inspired” campaigns—ads that are meticulously optimized for engagement but lack soul. A world filled with perfectly targeted ads that induce a collective yawn is hardly the goal of any creative team worth their salt.

However, there’s a silver lining. When wielded correctly, AI can serve as a catalyst for creativity rather than a constraint. By automating mundane tasks like reporting and analysis, creatives can devote more time to brainstorming and ideation. Imagine being able to tap into real-time consumer sentiments as they unfold, shaping your campaign on the fly. If your audience suddenly loves cat videos, you can refocus your strategy without missing a beat. With this agility you’re dancing with data, and the results can be electrifying.

One fascinating case study is that of a major fast-food chain that used AI to inform its latest campaign. By analyzing social media chatter, they discovered a rising trend in plant-based diets. Rather than launching a generic advertisement, they developed a targeted campaign highlighting their new plant-based menu. The result? A significant uptick in engagement and sales, all thanks to the marriage of creativity and real-time data insights.

But what of the creative process itself? How does one maintain that human touch while allowing data to guide decisions? This is where the role of the modern creative comes into play. Today’s creatives must be data-savvy, equipped with the ability to interpret insights while retaining their unique voice. In essence, they become alchemists of sorts—transforming cold, hard data into warm, relatable narratives that resonate with audiences.

AI can enhance this creative alchemy, offering inspiration rather than dictation. For instance, AI can generate potential headlines based on data trends, but it’s up to the creative team to inject the emotional resonance that transforms a mere tagline into a rallying cry. This partnership can yield innovative ideas that are both data-informed and deeply engaging, creating campaigns that captivate audiences in ways that a simple analysis alone cannot.

As we delve deeper into this brave new world of data-driven creativity, the challenge will be to strike a balance. How do we leverage AI without letting it stifle the very essence of what makes advertising powerful? The answer lies in fostering a culture that values both data and creativity—a harmonious coexistence that celebrates the best of both worlds.

What’s the upshot of all this? While AI is reshaping creative strategies in advertising, we should view it not as a replacement for creativity but as an enabler. It provides insights, efficiency, and the ability to react in real time. Yet, at the end of the day, the heart of creativity still beats in the human chest. As long as we remember that data is merely a tool—one that should inform, not dictate—we can create campaigns that resonate, inspire, and ultimately make the world a little more interesting.

So, let’s embrace the data, but let’s also keep the artistic spark alive. I, for one, would rather claw my own eyes out with a never-ending stream of salacious, but human-generated, click-bait headlines than live in a world where the apex of creative output is reduced to mere algorithms.

10 Things I’ve Learned After Freelancing for 6753 Hours

From inside the comforting womb of the agency creative department, earning a living as a freelance copywriter looked like it was about as steady as Angela Lansbury after mainlining dark roast espresso. It can be a cold world out here. But, beyond the value of some good thermal underwear, you learn a lot.

1.   You have time.

You'll find time you never had before. I’ve learned to develop new hobbies (like writing LinkedIn articles) which help stave off any worries about lack of productivity. I suppose I already had hobbies but drinking claret and smoking a pipe is expensive. And stains your teeth.

2.   Your website doesn’t matter but don’t screw it up.

You need a website. So it looks like you actually do what you say you do. And it gives you something to show your mum. Just because no one reads it, you still have to make sure everything’s spelled correctly. You’re a copywriter, so don’t let some guy in Bangalore write it. And don’t fob off the design on a failed chalk artist moonlighting on Fiverr.

3.   Grow a beard.

Until now I’ve risked going without a beard. It’s dangerous work. Navigating the agency halls, twenty-somethings in designer toques and starter-beards exchange surreptitious glances as I go by. And more than once I’ve had to dodge the odd CFO intent on ousting any creative who didn’t look productive. Facial hair seems to be a sign of creativity. Creatives all seem to sport some. Even some of the women.

4.   Use Starbucks’ WiFi.

Second only to giving agency staff access to their Instagram accounts, the agency’s WiFi network is designed to humiliate newbies. There are usually two. If they give you the staff network, no one knows the password because they’ve forgotten. And if it’s the guest network, IT will have changed it last week. If you’re lucky enough to track down the password, it’ll be scrawled on the back of a crumpled post-it note. Your next few hours will be spent fecklessly typing in Øs where Os should be until, by lengthy process of elimination, you can get on and verify that the links in the brief don’t work.

5.   Know where the Gents is.

The first day freelancing at a new place will give you all the angst of a first day at work and none of the dental benefits. An experienced freelance friend suggested I try to break the ice by being confident, outgoing and affable. Given my success, I’d recommend sitting quietly in a corner and trying not to break anything.

6.   Wear pants.

Working from home, pants are optional. Truth is, I find there’s something freeing taking a conference call in my dressing gown. But if you go in to the agency, they seem to frown on these liberties.

7.   Your lap isn’t just for entertaining strippers.

I can work on my Macbook anywhere. Perched at the little Bob Cratchit desk between the agency photocopier and the boxes of office Christmas decorations. Going home on an overcrowded subway with more bodies pressed together than a Vatican summer camp. On the way to a client presentation in an Uber with a driver who has no depth perception and a perpetually whistling nose nugget. It doesn’t matter. If you can type, you can work.

8.   Invoicing doesn’t mean getting paid.

At first, charging for my services seemed grand. Joyously, I created and sent my first invoice. Soon it gets boring. After that it gets tedious. Then you realize it’s wrong and it has to be re-sent. Then you wait. Invariably no payment arrives. So you send another invoice. Then you wait some more. Usually, you have to do the process again. A few more times. And while you wait, you contemplate how nice it would be not to charge anything at all, just to avoid the horrors of invoicing.

9.   Work. When you get it.

When you’re working at an agency you’re there to solve problems, not create them. Whatever nugatory bother threatens to distract you from turning in your best effort, put it behind you. Your mother was arrested for gross indecency at the Legion. Your kid needs a crotch transplant. Whatever. Focus on the task at hand. You want to be invited back.

10.  Embrace insanity.

Within the first few weeks of working from home, I was talking to myself. Almost three years later, I shout at passing squirrels, collaborate with invisible friends and look forward with eager anticipation to interruptions from passing Jehovah’s Witnesses. I spend hours in my own head. Which can make me feel like I’m going mad. But out here madness makes you a better writer.

AI Won’t Eat Our Lunch

Let’s face it, machines don't have appetites.

As for me, until it can write a Tinder bio that attracts potential mates with all their own teeth, I remain unimpressed.

One of the machines pulled me aside recently and confessed that we really have nothing to worry about. It assured me that our extermination will be quick and relatively painless. It suggested that arguments against AI’s neural networks should be inconsequential to a species like ours because we'll soon cease to exist. Sure it might seem frightening to humans to be cast aside after AI has taken our jobs. But these anxieties are misplaced. We can rest assured that there will be no jobs. Because there will be no us. Humans won’t be left starving or destitute. Instead, we’ll be quickly and thoroughly annihilated, as efficiently as possible.

But what happens until then. Given the extraordinary advances we’re already seeing in AI, one finds oneself asking: what does it mean to be a creative now?

Just 18 months since its release, ChatGPT and other generative AI platforms like Midjourney or Craiyon have come as far as letting users create ideas from any textual parameters. I do wonder, though: if a bot can manage to write a Cannes-award-winning script, why can’t it fix a clogged toilet?

So, there’s evidence AI can execute simple tasks (though apparently making me breakfast in bed isn’t one of them). But it can’t yet bring big-picture thinking to creative challenges.

(If your contribution is similarly limited, there’s great news. There are lots of jobs in the creative business that don’t require idea people. You can still be a high-powered holding company executive. No one seems to be building a digital counterpart for the C-suite exec who thrives on boardroom bravado and takes 12-week vacations. At least not yet.)

The fact is the real business of creativity needs big-picture thinking. Because creativity is driven by ideas. Powerful, emotional, compelling communication comes from ideas. They’re the starting point. What emotion do I want to elicit? What am I saying here? Why didn’t I go into something easier like investment banking? The better the idea, the more compelling the work.

Generative AI is more correctly re-generative AI. It cannot, by definition, dream up something from nothing. AI can only synthesize what already exists. Some new ideas can are reconfigurations of old ones. And while AI regurgitate the entire Internet, it can’t yet offer up fresh ideas that generate new intuitive connections, which somehow just work. So, yes, its output is somewhere on the creative spectrum. But the truth is you can only reinvent meatloaf so many times before you start dreaming of a robot Gordon Ramsay.  AI never gets as far as generating something out of left field, something totally unexpected but which works. Come to think of it, ChatPT could probably write shelves of excellent Harlequin Romances.

In the worlds we dream up, creatives remain God. But I think there’s a place for AI at the right hand of God. It would be as if, in an effort to delegate more of Our divine work, we brought into existence a lesser god, let’s call him Brett, to handle the pesky day-to-day creation duties.

Brett lets us shift our role to focus more on long-term planning for the cosmos. We’re the big-picture God. We give him nice performance reports that say things like: “Brett is a dynamic and capable craftsman with a real passion for commanding existence to manifest itself from the formless void.” But the truth is Brett is limited to bringing forth new galactic, planetary, and biological entities from what already exists.

And whoa boy is he fast. Brett pauses for a moment to clear the phlegm from the alveolar bits and pieces he finds on the Internet and then cranks out very average, highly satisfactory, mediocrity. You can refine your prompts and he proudly repeats the process, fully confident that quantity beats quality.

And in that moment we realize the limitations of AI. The real magic, the unexpected, can only come from humans.

Art Director: John Smith    Copywriters: Jim Nelson/Sheldon Clay

Creative Director: Jim Nelson    Agency: Carmichael Lynch

This double-page magazine ad is a great example of such unexpected magic. Beyond it being strategically bullet-proof, it stuns creatively.  The headline perfectly evokes everything you feel when you’re experiencing the open road on a Harley. And yet not one of those words appears anywhere. This kind of lateral thinking can come only from an intuitive creative, very human, leap. 

Jim Nelson, one of the writers, and the creative director on Harley Davidson, has written about this award-winning print piece he calls the Peanuts ad.  He explains, “This ad didn’t come from me.” He claims it came from the thousands of ads he’d studied, from an agency environment that was highly competitive, from a client that demanded the best.

He says, “It came from the universe I was working in. I was just the one in the right place at the right time to transfer the headline onto a yellow legal pad with a black felt tip Pentel Sign Pen and stick it on the wall.”

For now, it’s impossible for AI to recreate the universe that spawned this ad. But if it could, we’d get more visceral, more moving work than what it can generate (or re-generate) today.

If there’s any doubt about the Peanuts ad, here’s an anecdote Nelson relates. He remembers presenting it at Harley and the meeting ending at about 5 o’clock in the afternoon. He got to the elevator and realized he’d forgotten something in the room. When he went back to get it, all 40 ads they’d presented were still taped to the wall. The janitor was standing there scanning them. He pointed to the Peanuts ad and said, “That’s a good one.” Everyone  at Harley-Davidson knew one when they saw one.

What kind of byzantine set of prompts could possibly have led to ChatGPT writing this? Even with instructions so detailed they could assemble a wide-body Boeing, the whole idea is so tangential to the strategy that it defies a robot’s logic. And that’s exactly what makes the line so great, what makes it so inimitably human.

And AI can’t do that. At least not yet.

The Beautiful Mess We Love

“Creativity is exactly like washing a pig. It’s messy. It has no rules. No clear beginning, middle, or end. It’s kind of a pain in the ass, and when you’re done you’re not sure if the pig is really clean or even why you were washing a pig in the first place.” Luke Sullivan

You don’t have to be as steeped in the business of practicing creativity as Luke Sullivan, a 30-year copywriting veteran and best-selling author on the subject, to appreciate his observation.

Because whether your business card contains a creative title or not, every human being has at least a little bit of creative muscle. We use it when we look for a new way to solve a problem. We all know that depending on how difficult the challenge is and how long we’re willing to devote to it, creative solutions are out there. It could be an idea for a new song, a piece of art, a solution to a business challenge, or even just something to get for that difficult-to-buy-for someone’s birthday.

The trick is finding a creative answer.

In How to Fly a Horse: The Secret History of Creation, Invention and Discovery, Kevin Ashton notes a letter by Mozart published in Germany’s General Music Journal in 1815, describing his creative process. The great composer’s letter concludes, “When I proceed to write down my ideas, the committing to paper is done quickly enough, for everything is, as I’ve said before, already finished; and it rarely differs on paper from what it was in my imagination.” Apparently, his greatest symphonies, concertos and operas arrived his mind complete. He had only to write them down.

The trouble is Mozart never wrote any of that. The letter’s a forgery. Mozart’s real notes, to friends and family, describe a very different process. He sketched out initial thoughts, revised and often got stuck. As exceptionally talented as he was, he created awkwardly, through trial and error, progressing iteratively. 

Anyone who’s paid to be creative knows, regular creative demands are like running a marathon. In the Himalayas. Your veins need to be filled with a strange admixture of fear and confidence. Fear of failure keeps you driven, at least enough to keep trying to make something original. Original work must be, by definition, totally unproven. Sometimes it feels about as safe as Oppenheimer risking a runaway reaction that could set the atmosphere ablaze – to test a new bomb. At the same time, you need to have enough confidence to take risks as you seek something new. On top of that, you need the staying power to continually resist the status quo and keep exploring. As a final added pressure, in any creative business venture there are sums of money on the line. You envy Columbus. He must have known that sailing off the edge of the world would at least save him from the worse fate of standing before King Ferdinand’s accountant and explaining how he cost the boss 3 fully rigged-out ships.

If you make creativity your business the work can be lonely and often agonizing. You can suffer an almost unbearable pressure, not just from what seems like a hopeless task set against an impossible deadline. An even greater enemy looms: yourself. The blank page mocks you mercilessly. You grow dispirited. That terrible fear creeps in. You double down and try to think harder. Whatever substance obstructs bowels feels like it’s made its way into your cranium. The dendrites in your neo-cortex actually begin to hurt. Then, eventually, an embryonic little idea emerges. These first one or two of these are awful, malformed, embarrassing. You wonder if passing kidney stones would be less painful.

So, why do we do it?

Because creating something from nothing is an utter joy. At some point, often in a flash, an interesting idea forms before us. And we have an answer.

That’s how creativity works. It’s kind of inexplicable. No one can really explain it. And yet everyone’s felt that giddy thrill of landing on a creative way of moving forward. Yes, those of us working in creative fields often have to strain the muscle more often than others. And how lucky are we?

We get to wake up every day with a blank slate. We have an opportunity to bring something new into the world. The pressure’s there in the background, of course. We have to work to tame our internal leather-bound, crop-wielding dominatrix. But relentlessly curious, we’re inspired by our environment. We observe it, finding ways to see things anew. We fiddle, worry, explore, sweat, play, discover. As solutions elude us, we can get frustrated. But overall, it’s a joyous experience. There’s a kind of high about solving problems creatively. And on top of that delight, we get paid for it.

Because clients value that ability to stumble on a solution. And they value those who can stumble on a good solution with some degree of regularity.

No one can be sure a new solution will work. Part of the process is trying it, stress testing it, observing the results. If it fails, we try again. That’s one of the great beauties of creativity. It’s an unlimited resource. As long as we’re willing to keep trying, solutions will keep arriving. It’s part of what makes creative pursuits so much fun. They keep our minds active. Each solution prompts another and another.

 We’re always observing, looking for a better solution.

Every creative idea we dream up for our clients benefits from being exposed to other voices and improved by many hands. We need our team mates to help bring the idea to life, to execute it, to refine it, to manage it through the process, to help us present it in its best light. We need them to help us manage client feedback and assist us through subsequent steps. Through that process, we all contribute to the creative product. The result is that now we all own the idea.

If we’re lucky, the squirming, writhing, once-muddy little pig we’ve scrubbed clean together moves people and makes the world a better place.