What's the haul this time?

First, a repeater:

Apothederm is mincing no words here - Another year? Another wrinkle? Count me in. I still say the name sounds like "a pachyderm," however.

Next, another brand repeater:

I still don't think Juicy Couture skews to my demographic, and can't imagine that its marketers targeted 50-somethings with the tagline "Smells Like Couture." When I see a "Smells Like ..." tagline, I immediately think of "Smells Like Teen Spirit," Nirvana's smash hit from its 1991 album Nevermind. I don't want a fragrance inspired by grunge rock, okay? Birchbox, please: If you're sending perfume samples, Taylor Swift and Juicy are just plain wrong when I've ticked the 45-55 box!

Sometimes, marketing people just work too hard, and here's an example:

The company that makes this product, The Balm, appears to have adopted wisecracking 40s Hollywood glamour as its M.O., and that's fine, though a bit close to Benefit's vibe. This product is a "luminizer" - hence, Mary-Lou Manizer. Get it? Actually, I'm being a mite harsh. Lots of their names are quite cute - BalmsAway for eye makeup remover; BalmShelter for lip gloss, TimeBalm facial cleanser, for example. Mary-Lou Manizer just seems strained in comparison.

Another name I don't understand: 

I thought it was LA as in "ellay," the city, rather than "la" as in the French article, but their website shows otherwise. What can I say, I just don't like the sound of it. Fresh is totally weak in the cosmetics area, so it's hard to distinguish yourself from, for example, this company. And adding "la," which means "the," isn't enough. I do like some of their other good names (e.g., Divas & Studs canine care products), as well as their conservation focus, but fundamentally find the name La Fresh to be ... not so fresh?

Finally, a timely travel shampoo for the gym: 

The brand here is Number 4 (apologies for the photo quality). Why 4 - I mean, I know why not 2, but still? (Couldn't help myself there - sorry.) 

A look at the company website reveals an inspiration statement, and here's where the stars align: It's Paris. Yes, Number 4 is "inspired by French culture, virtues and debonair ideals." Whatever that means. So this product, from the Lumiere d'Hiver line, is somehow supposed to be connected to the fourth arrondissement in Paris, otherwise known as the Marais district. 

That's all well and good, but "Lumiere d'Hiver"? Winter light? Have you been to Paris in the winter? Not only have I been there, but I'm heading there very soon for Noel. And the forecast is for wet, gray weather. So if we're talking natural light, it's not a connotation that speaks to enhancing the beauty of my hair. However, if it's the artificial lights and festive displays of Christmas, that could work. I'll just have to let you know.

So a Joyeux Noel et Bonne Annee a tous - and with any luck there will be destination blogging aplenty in the nouvel an!

The innovative ingredient in this toothpaste is described as "Rennou™, a non-toxic proprietary blend of a naturally-occurring extract found in chocolate" is derived." Leaving aside discussion of "Rennou," I note that since theobromine is the alkaloid found in the cocoa bean, it wasn't hard to figure out how they put "theo" and "dent" together to form "theodent."

But there's a catch: I'll lay odds (having recently been to Las Vegas) that "theo" is far less commonly recognized as suggesting chocolate (though this company is trying to prove otherwise, deliciously so) than it is as referring to religion.

Theos, in ancient Greek, means god or gods. Our language is full of theo-  and -theist  words: theology, theocracy, apotheosis, monotheism, ad infinitum. Theobroma, for chocolate? The food of the gods.

So when I see Theodent, I don't think chocolate - I think religious or godly teeth. And then I think there's something nefarious going on, which is of course overthinking, but I can't be the only one with that takeaway, can I?

Fabulous and poodle, that is. But I'm biased:

Wikipedia informs me that pu-erh is a variety of post-fermented tea; alas, that description does nothing to encourage me. And a chocolate flavored pu-erh? Lost my appetite completely.

People-watching there is excellent, but I found more intriguing the billboards advertising legal services, like this one:

"Re-Defining Personal" indeed! If this ad isn't targeted at women, with its pinkish tones and especially with the himbo on the left, I don't know what is! We saw several other lawyer ads with the same type of glamorous headshots, but nothing like the open-collared gentleman in this ad!

Vegas is all about getting you intoxicated enough to do wild things and spend lots of money, as The Hangover movie franchise has deftly illustrated. Before the proprietor of a downtown liquor store yelled at me to stop taking photos, I snapped a photo of this candidate for the Drinking with my Ladybrain hall of fame:

According to the Crosby Lake Spirits Company, which makes Kinky, Kinky is a "naughty infusion of premium vodka" distilled with mango, blood orange liqueur, and passion fruit. The website? Well, its photos aren't subtle. I'd say this drink is marketed to men trying to seduce women into doing something kinky. As I've still got a nearly-full bottle of Nuvo in my fridge, I think I'll give Kinky a pass.

Finally, we saw some brand extension of what Nancy Friedman has called "the curse of strong drink": 

Now you can find not just Feckin Irish Whiskey but Feckin Spiced, presumably for a feckin good time. And I do like how they let you click to "Find a Feckin Stockist" on their site! This one seems like good-hearted vulgarity, and not just vulgarity for vulgarity's sake (Suxx Vodka, I'm looking at you!)

So Vegas was a good time, and since it's a great midpoint for getting together with friends from Seattle. And for classic kitsch if you're headed that way: run, don't walk to the Peppermill - the bygone "glamour" of its Fireside Lounge is not to be missed.

P.S. A thank you once again to Nancy for reminding me to get back on the ladybrain drinking/blogging horse! 

Birchbox this month is right on target for my traveling toiletry/cosmetic needs, even if not all the trademarks hit the mark.

First, with a killer trademark, is Archipelago pomegranate soap:

Love, love, love Archipelago as a trademark. It's not at all descriptive, but it's evocative and appropriate for soap. Bonus: it smells great.

Second, with an okay trademark, is ModelCo "Fibre Lashxtend" lengthening mascara:

ModelCo is fine as a trademark - not descriptive; suggestive of the fashion models beauty ideal towards which we all strive, right? - but what I'm really excited about is that this is a full-size tube, and I already ran out of the sample size tube of Chantecaille from last month's Birchbox shipment, and wasn't all that wowed by it.

Another item that will serve me well at the gym is this Oscar Blandi hair spray:

"Pronto" is a cute designation for the product without being too descriptive; any aspect of  "pronto" suggesting speed of use is kind of meaningless once you think about what a quick hairspray would mean. Think about it ... Now, as far as a quick hair care routine, well, that's different. I can confidently state after about ten visits to the gym that I have the shortest hair care routine of any woman I've seen so far. Wash, spray or schmear, fluff, go.

Here's what happens when you have good intentions but the reality of the mark defeats you:

On the heels of argan oil we now have marula oil, which, according to the marula.com site, is great for dry and mature skin (yes and yes!) and is derived from the marula fruit. 

Marula products are sold through The Leakey Collection - and yes, it's related to that Leakey: the founders are the son and daughter-in-law of renowned anthropologists Louis and Mary Leakey. The products they promote are African-made, fair trade, sustainable - everything you could want. So I feel only crass and superficial when I complain that I am just not so sure I want anything with the name "Leakey" on my face. But more seriously, I do understand the desire to propagate the Leakey name and heritage; having grown up in the generation of "Born Free" and "Wild Kingdom" I easily recognize the Leakey name and legacy. I'm just not sure it can overcome its phonetic handicap to translate to a new generation. I'd be happy to see it prove me wrong! In any event, I'm definitely going to see if it works on my dry and mature skin!

Finally, the bonus:

A sample of John Varvatos Artisan eau de toilette. Artisan is in fact an excellent name for a fragrance. I approve. And timely - during the recent tonsillectomy convalescence, my daughter found great solace in streaming episodes of "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" from Netflix - where I first heard mention of John Varvatos, thanks to fashion guru Carson Kressley. 

Good job, Birchbox - I look forward to using all of these!

So for trademark fun I'm mostly limited to the world inside the house. But there's still plenty to find. Why, in fact, right in front of me on my desk:

"Look ma, new hands"? Love it. Nice job by Bath & Body Works. 

I won't deny that having a dog cuddling on my lap while I watch TV is a grand way to while away a lazy afternoon. Now that the election is over and swing-state commercials no longer clutter the airways, I occasionally watch live TV. And the new Walgreens slogan is just delightful:

This cheerful slogan, in a modern font, is a solid attempt to bring the more stodgy Walgreens name and logo into the 21st century.

And this? Sauté on? Is this some cooking phraseology with which I've managed to be unfamiliar despite obsessive reading of cookbooks and cooking blogs?

Luckily, I'm getting furloughed this weekend, so stay tuned for Destination blogging!

Right after we got her home from the hospital, our beloved toy poodle started acting skittish and strange. When she couldn't even drag her tiny tuchis off the floor, we knew something was wrong and hightailed (!) it to the veterinary hospital. Well, like mother, like dog: Reggie had ruptured a disk and required a hemilaminectomy with fenestration. (Just as long as it wasn't defenestration, I always say). Six days in the hospital and untold sacks of gold later, Reggie is home with us trying to pretend nothing's happened, yet needing my constant supervision.

We're grateful to the team at VRCC in Denver that took such good care of her. I guess when you shell out that much cash on a dog, you merit a goody bag, and ours contained a cute plush organic pet toy from this company:

Simply Fido is an absolutely great name - I like how it evokes "simplified," which is a nice connotation for organic products. I just hope the company, with its Brooklyn base, is weathering Hurricane Sandy safely.

Stay healthy, please!

The intro to Chantecaille Faux Cils Mascara says "Meet your new wand love." Hmm, mascara doesn't usually come to mind when I hear that. So, the Chantecaille mascara:

Very swanky packaging, and the name Chantecaille - "song of the quail" - is lovely: not descriptive, not pretentious, although perhaps a bit of a challenge for non-Francophones to pronounce. Faux Cils - well, that just means "fake lashes." I don't think "faux" is a term you really want to use with any product, but I never turn down a good mascara.

Next, DDF Wrinkle Resist Plus Pore Minimizer:

I have trouble believing that this one can do everything it says it does: "for instantaneous pore appearance reduction while it exfoliates and hydrates to continually diminish the appearance of wrinkles." But I'll give it a whirl, since hey, I am in that demographic.

Next, Embryolisse:

Not real excited about a name that translates to "smooth embryo." Indeed, I feel the same way about this name that I did about Cold Plasma: yuck. This cream is targeted to "rides installees," or "established wrinkles." Somehow I don't buy that there's a big difference. Also, this one contains not just vitamins A and E, but vitamin F as well. According to Wisegeek.com, vitamin F is omega-3 and omega-6 fatty acids. Maybe the Embryolisse folks follow my marketing diktat about the word "fat"?

Orofluido is the third foreign-language compound-word brand this month - meaning liquid gold:

Not exactly sure what I'm supposed to do with this hair treatment oil. Their website promises a "journey to the orignins [sic] of the beauty of hair," and a model destined for the Ps Disasters website. The rest of the site's copy is no more lucid. I think this is meant to be a hot oil treatment of sorts, but there's no "lather, rinse, repeat"-style instructions, so I may just toss this one out.

Finally, a "Lifestyle Extra" - a Luna bar, a "goop fave." Well, that will get eaten.

Off to go curate my own damn lifestyle!

Sure, they can say that "chameleon" comes from the chameleons living in their orange trees, but I think otherwise, because, well, just say it: Kona Chameleon. And now you're singing it!

In my demographic, anything with the word Bulgari:

Another brand that works well for me, Caudalie - whose products are made with grape and vine extracts:

But then it went downhill - yet another Color Club nail polish, so my daughters can add to their collection for their home nail salon events.

Next, "The Brush Guard" "brush guard variety kit":

I have the sneaking suspicion that these brush guards are the original wrappers cosmetics brushes came in, which someone has diligently hoarded and decided to repurpose (a word I loathe) for essentially the same purpose for which they were originally used. I suppose if I were a better person I'd treat my cosmetics brushes more lovingly ... but I'm not, so I won't. 

Trademark Geek Digression: I note that THE BRUSH GUARD has actually been registered with the PTO for "covers for cosmetics brush bristles; brush covers for cosmetics brushes." Even with the exclusive right to "brush" disclaimed, this registration is a disgrace, IMHO, and should never have gone through. If you can ask yourself "what does this device do?" and reply "guard the brush," then the mark should have been refused as descriptive if not generic. Once again, it's registrations like this that clog the register and unfairly accord overbroad rights to trademark owners - which, in turn, often leads to aggressive yet unfounded assertion of those rights against legitimate descriptive use. (See KP Permanent Makeup, Inc. v. Lasting Impression I, Inc., for a broader discussion of this topic.)

Finally, of no use to me, there is a piece of elastic ribbon cut and tied and cleverly called "The Twistband." This appears to be merely 6" of elastic ribbon. Neither an original name nor idea here. Moreover, I've had short hair for all but about three years of my life. I can offer it as a bribe to whichever daughter tidies her room best, but it's not really an item for the young 50-something.

That is all.

Athleta's actual use of the slogan since its January introduction certainly doesn't convince me that the slogan speaks to anyone who knows how to speak: Athleta has a Power to the She Award; its articles introducing the winners of that award always begin "Meet the Power to the She Award recipient ..." Huh? It's clumsy and looks incomplete in text, almost worse than when it stands alone as a slogan. "She," as a subjective pronoun, should never follow a preposition.¹  And "the She"? What does it mean? What is it meant to mean? It makes my head spin. Just because some companies rely on non-standard English to make their points doesn't mean it's a good idea.²  Not everyone thought the atrociously ungrammatical "Think Different" was brilliant, after all. 

Here's what I don't understand: Athleta is a pretty good name. Their Athleta chi blog has a great tagline: "connecting women to the energy of inspiration." How about connecting women to the energy of logical word formation?

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¹So if you're thinking "but what about 'with she and I'? Don't think it ever again and consult a good grammar textbook. Please.

First, there's a Schick razor.

From a pure value standpoint, this item alone is worth the monthly layout. At best, this razor runs about $8, with most outlets offering it for $11. And I guess from a trademark perspective, HYDRO SILK is a great example of a suggestive mark: it hydrates your legs and makes them silky - yet the mark doesn't say that directly. Still, I buy my razors at Costco, where the prices are unbeatable.

Next, Caldrea hand soap, in tiny sample sizes:

Yeah, hand soap. I am too practical a shopper to be sucked in by items like luxury hand soap. So this one doesn't thrill me.

This "tinted lip conditioner" by Beauty Fixation confused me a bit.

So I went on their website, and I think I'm on to them: They're selling pre-dipped cotton swabs to people too lazy to dip a Q-tip into the appropriate bottle or jar! Maybe the excuse is that these are good for travel, but in my view, it's only going to add clutter.

Now, the one item actually targeted to my demographic:

I like the house mark, Osmotics. I also like that they actually provide some of the clinical studies that they say support their claims on their website, though I suspect my in-house false advertising expert would probably advise otherwise. And, I'll certainly try the product, though my aforementioned thrift will likely prevent me from shelling out $58 for an ounce of it.

And finally, here's where Birchbox failed with its demographic targeting this month:

Juicy? I don't care if you add La Fleur to try to class it up; Juicy skews too young to go along with anti-aging products!

Yes, it's a dog care store. And somehow I don't think Mondo Cane would be a hit in the US the same way.

That English cachet appears elsewhere in Europe, but often makes less sense than the Italian example above. Here's the cover of Lufthansa's intra-European menu offering:

Was? "Nonstop you"? I don't get it. 

The French are no better. Here, an ad for a juice drink:

"Be fruit"? No, that doesn't work either. On the other hand, here we are in the country that came up with La Yogurt, so perhaps we're not in a position to criticize.

This ad for an upcoming blues festival performer that we found in a cheerful gelateria in Noto (the site of several other eye-popping finds, as you may recall) still blows my mind:

Do you think he chose this name because he's rotund? Or do I have to post this again as a cautionary tale?

Alas, it's not frizzante, so I didn't drink that much of it. Bonus benefit in Sicily: una grande bottiglia d'acqua frizzante at a restaurant will run you a mere 2 €, far less than the same grande bouteille d'eau minerale gazeuse in France.