Alexander Gallé is Partner and Creative Director at GALLÉ - a design and branding studio focused on luxury, entertainment and fashion brands - and one of Europe's leading design studios in the luxury brands online sector. Gallé's portfolio includes websites, online ads and e-commerce solutions for Yves Saint Laurent, Asprey, Fabergé, Garrard, Dior Beauty, Marchesa, Corum Timepieces, Boucheron, Jimmy Choo, MCM, Twentieth Century Fox, Buena Vista International, Miramax, Metropolitan Hotel, Marbella Club, Hotel Casadelmar, Lebua Hotels and Resorts and many leading hotels around the world. Gallé led the re-branding strategy for Corum Timepieces in 2006 and art directed their Unlock and Conquer ad campaigns in 2007. Later in that year, Gallé's studio also launched Artipolis, the social network for art and design professionals. Gallé combines 15 years of design and art direction with in-depth knowledge of the commercial and strategic aspects of the internet and Web 2.0.
Sunday, 17 August 2014
Saturday, 16 August 2014
This essay was published in Luxury Briefing in July 2014
by Alexander Gallé
6 July 2014
The film "Tim's Vermeer" (2014) documents the story of a hacker/inventor, Tim Jenison, as he successfully recreates a Vermeer painting using various optical tools that were available to Vermeer in the XVIIth century. The film makes a convincing case that technological inventiveness, rather than artistic mastery, was the reason why Vermeer's paintings were so much more vivid and realistic than any of his contemporaries' work. Tim's use of a cleverly positioned small mirror - to evaluate the difference at any point between an object's colour and its painted representation - turns the painter's role into nothing more than an information processor, albeit a very precise and meticulous one.
The academic reaction to this analysis of one of the greatest painters of the Dutch Golden Age has been somewhat negative, as you might expect. This is mostly because any assertion on the use of technology in fine art is wrongly interpreted as an accusation of being a "faker", of not really being as great an artist as one pretended to be.
In his book "The Age of Intelligent Machines", Ray Kurzweil explains the exponential acceleration of technology by arguing that any field of science or engineering that comes into contact with information technology, will itself become an information technology, which then allows it to evolve at the same rate of acceleration as information technology. Since the 70s, the effect of this acceleration has been visible in just about every sector of industry: planes become flying computers, cars become computers on wheels, and the collective intellectual output of humanity becomes accessible on pocket-sized computers called smartphones.
And yet, Kurzweil's central claim - that artificial intelligence will surpass human intelligence within the next 25 years - seems to trigger a rather negative reaction among academics. Every time AI reaches a new groundbreaking result in a field thought to be critical to developing intelligence, "true" intelligence is apparently about something even more elusive, and the method used to achieve the result is derided as "faking it", much in the way that technology in fine art is thought of as "faking it".
Technology's impact has been huge in the luxury sector, too, not only because it has helped some adventurous brands go much further than previously thought possible, but mostly because it has significantly reduced the cost of producing high quality goods, thereby making them available to people who until not so long ago would not have been the luxury sector's target audience.
As a result, a similar kind of denial has been creeping into the luxury sector, belittling the achievements made by newcomers and tech-oriented brands. Tesla's cars, apparently, have no "love". The best new world wines, apparently, have a "goût technologique". Brands like Apple are, apparently, "masstige". Never mind the fact that everyone remembers their jaw dropping when they first got into a Tesla, drank a glass of Bonny Doon's "Cigare Volant", or had an iPhone in their hands, "true" luxury suddenly seems to require many more elusive attributes, and technology is somehow perceived to be just a way of "faking it".
Is it true you need soul to create great art? Yes. Is it true there is more to intelligence than beating Kasparov at chess? Yes. Is it true you need culture to create luxury products? Yes. But technology does not fake those human attributes. Rather, it augments humans' ability to leverage those attributes, and to allow more of us to enjoy their fruits. Technoluxe doesn't fake luxe, it augments it.
Tuesday, 18 March 2014
This essay was published in Luxury Briefing in March 2014
Her, the ultimate brand
by Alexander Gallé
Making something pretty is easy. Making something meaningful is the real challenge.
I've been thinking a lot about this recently. It puts in a nutshell what brand design signifies to me. We're working right now on a brand identity which has brought me something like a minor epiphany - let's call it a "ping" - and I've been thinking about what exactly the "ping" is.
It is certainly a beautiful brand. Much of it is inspired by baroque design, full of curves and complexity. But the aspect that is really inspiring about the work done so far, is that it all fits conceptually. Why the choice of baroque style? Because the brand's values are rooted in the Enlightenment. Why are this brand's values rooted in the Enlightenment? The answer is in the word itself: light. Intelligent use of light is what makes this particular product so good. But, going deeper, it is clear that the mission behind the product is to achieve through science and knowledge what Bernini's Holy Spirit - a stained glass window depicting a dove emanating light - achieved with religiously inspired art: to transcend, to go beyond. In other words, to enlighten.
Quite a few brands have been evolving their "ping" over the last few decades. One of the best examples is Nike. Since the 80s, Nike haven't been selling shoes, they've been selling "Just do it". The spirit behind the brand is what you were buying, the product is just an embodiment of that spirit. The ultimate brand would be for a product that is weightless and invisible, but that changes everything about your life for the better and makes you feel great.
Interestingly, I have recently discovered a weightless and invisible product that changes everything about its user's life for the better and makes him feel great. Sadly, the product only exists in a science fiction film set in 2025. That film is "Her" by Spike Jonze. Its story revolves around Theodore, a man who develops a romantic relationship with a body-less artificially intelligent operating system whose first decision is to call herself Samantha. Originally installed on his computer to help him organise his virtual life like a personal assistant, Samantha delights Theodore by the speed at which she learns about life, the depth of her insight, her ability to intuit what he needs to do and change in his life to be happier. Within weeks, she composes wonderful pieces of music inspired by their moments together, and draws witty illustrations of their jokes. They spend weeks walking everywhere together, having great conversations and forming a genuine romantic relationship. That is, he walks everywhere, she speaks to him and interacts with the world through his smartphone.
The relationship deteriorates when it becomes clear that, like all code, Samantha is infinitely replicable: she's not working just for Theodore but for another few thousand people, and is in a romantic relationship with hundreds of them. Are these iterations copies of her, or are they also her? Does this multiplicity weaken their relationship's authenticity or does it augment it? At this point, it becomes clear that the limitation that attributes value to anything because it is a material object and "mine" is a human limitation. Theodore is most hurt by his own possessiveness over Samantha who, by her essential non-material nature, cannot be owned.
The transhuman aspects of this story are phenomenal, but going back to the fact that Samantha was a product bought by Theodore, the lesson for this brand designer is this: the ultimate brand will not only sell a weightless and invisible product but, wonderful and life-changing as it will be, it'll also be a brand that challenges humans' hardwired notions that we attribute value to things because they exist in the physical world and can therefore be owned. The ultimate brand will sell an experience that transcends these limits and go beyond. In other words, it'll sell Enlightenment.
Tuesday, 18 February 2014
This essay was published in Luxury Briefing in February 2014
Value and subjectivism
by Alexander Gallé
The idea of "enchantment-augmented" products certainly seems to have hit home with a few readers, judging by the unusual number of positive reactions to my last article.
Despite this, the value of the emotional connection as a core aspect of luxury brands seems to have not been captured in its full depth. As a result, it is being thought of as just the icing on the cake, the core of the luxury industry being some kind of more intrinsic quality of the products.
There are two ways to approach this argument. The first is to look at the exponential trend in technology, which I've been doing here at Luxury Briefing for a few years now. The other is to look at the importance of subjectivity, and of subjective experience in other areas of our lives.
The first approach is, in my view, uncontestable. I was born in the early 70s, when computers the size of your house only had a fraction of the computing power of your iPhone. You only have to follow the evolution curve to understand that, in about 20 years, computers the size of your white blood cells are going to be 1,000 times more powerful than your iPhone. The connectivity between them will be so complex that new levels of artificial intelligence will emerge out of their systems to create things that are as magic to you and me as today's iPhones would be to Isaac Newton. What was a luxury item to the world's wealthiest man in 1913 is today available to billions of people around the planet. What is a luxury item to the world's wealthiest man today will be available to billions of people around the planet in 2033.
The second approach takes a little more thinking about what it is that makes us happy, and what it is that makes us act, and interact. Which provides me a happier and more memorable experience? The plane journey that takes me to Lima an hour faster, or the plane journey that offers free broadband Wi-Fi access, great food, great wine, great coffee, polite stewardesses and courteous airport security? Look at the online feedback and be blown away, as all customer comments are about subjective experiences: my seat was scruffy, my stewardess rude, my food tasted bland, my seat had no TV screen, we had no internet access and couldn't find out why our plane was delayed, etc. The Stoics had it right: it's all about the effect experience has on our emotions. Happily, there are a million things one could do in this field at a fraction of the cost of a faster plane. For suppliers, therefore, luxury turns out to be the cheaper option.
The subjectivist approach goes much deeper, and there is, in my view, nobody who went deeper in our understanding of human interaction than the economist Ludwig von Mises did in his book "Human Action". For Mises, all trade is based on subjective value. In human affairs, there is no value other than subjective value. The reason I trade my tie for your shirt is not that there is an equivalence between these two products, as classical economists would argue, it's that there is subjective improvement on both sides of the equation. Your shirt is more valuable to me, my tie is more valuable to you. The money I earned working for you is more valuable to me than the time I lost, the product of my labour is more valuable to you than the money you paid me.
All this aggregate value derived from millions of human interactions forms a matrix - a mesh as it were - of information that is, in its aggregate, objective. For example, it'll tell you the market price of anything as defined by its comparison of value with everything else. But the matrix's fabric, the stuff it is made of, is subjectivity. Greater value is subjective value, and the greater price of luxury products reflects this. Luxury is subjective.
Sunday, 21 July 2013
This lecture was given as part of McCann Erickson’s “Thought Leaders“ programme, in March 2012 in Lima, Peru. "Technology vs Enchantment" was then published in Luxury Briefing in February 2013.
Download it here.
Download it here.
Tuesday, 31 July 2012
Tuesday, 19 June 2012
This essay is the first part of three adaptations of Alexander Gallé's 'Lectures in Lima' series.
Designing Nations: Italy, France and Perú
by Alexander Gallé
20 June 2012
A culture of creation
I'm going to start this lecture with a picture of a motorbike race held by the Benelli family in 1930. Tonino Benelli, the famous motorbike racer, is the man standing centre-right in the back of the picture.
The Benelli family started in the motorbike sector about 100 years ago, in the town of Pesaro, Italy. They were neighbours of ours when I was a kid and, aside from finding it interesting to see their family name on so many bikes in town, I always found their story quite inspiring…
In the beginning, Benelli was just a motorbike repair shop. Teresa Benelli started it in 1911 when her husband died. She had six sons, a small pension, and figured this was the best way to make sure they would all have a job. Five of her sons started working in the shop, they all learned how to fix motorbikes and the eldest son, who studied engineering, learned how to build spare parts.
The youngest son, Tonino, grew up in this environment and became a race driver. He won a few prizes on motorbikes that were increasingly improved upon by his brothers, until one day, 10 years after the company had first started, it occurred to them that, since they knew how to build every part of the motorbike themselves, they might as well start building their own bikes, under their own name. Tonino rode Benelli bikes and became a national hero, while the company went on to become one of Italy's classic 20th century brands.
It's a story you see echoed throughout Italy, in nearly every sector of commerce. The list is long, very long: Alfa Romeo, Ducati, Moto Guzzi, Malaguti, Piaggio, Aprilia, Lambretta, Ferrari, Fiat, Lamborghini, Lancia, Maserati, to name just a few in the motoring sector. The list goes on: Gucci, Prada, Ferragamo, Fendi, Cerruti, Armani, Max Mara, Dolce & Gabbana, Zegna, Versace, Fiorucci, Benetton, Campari, Martini, Carpano, Lazzaroni, Aperol, Cinzano, Cynar, Fernet Branca, Luxardo, Ramazzotti, Italian wines from Chianti to Barolo, to Montepulciano, to Sangiovese, to Nero d'Avola, Italian cheeses from the world-famous Parmigiano Reggiano to the ubiquitous Mozzarella, Italian hams and cured meats from Bologna to Parma, Italian pasta in all shapes and sizes from Barilla, De Cecco or Giovanni Rana, Italian pizza, Italian pesto made with Italian olive oil, Italian balsamic vinegar from Modena, Italian gianduia from Torino, Italian panettone, Italian Nutella, Italian biscotti di mandorle with Italian espresso coffee by Illy or Lavazza… Everywhere, a culture of families making something with love and dedication, and staking their own good name and reputation to the product they make.
A simple idea: love
Back in the '70s, Italy had just experienced a good decade of economic growth, much like Perú has today, but the image many Europeans had of Italians was pretty bad. If you mentioned Italians to northern Europeans, chances were they didn't think of Michelangelo, Leonardo, Verdi or Fellini, but of pasta-eating, siesta-sleeping mamma's boys and bicycle thieves.
Aldo Moro (the Italian prime minister of the mid-70s) is not remembered for being a great visionary in terms of nation branding. The problems that framed his time in public office were much darker than that, as Italy had a serious problem with terrorism at the time. In fact, Moro himself was kidnapped - and later killed - by the Brigate Rosse, a moment of shock for the nation, and for the world…
And yet, it was under Aldo Moro's leadership that the Italian Ministry for Culture was established. Moro even gave up some of his own prime ministerial office's resources to meet the new ministry's needs. Note that he called it 'Ministry FOR Culture' rather than 'Ministry OF Culture'. The difference marks the way he saw culture, not as something the State should own, but something the State should foster in order to create an inclusive society, wherein all citizens buy into the idea of the nation.
The rationale was as follows: Moro is said to have been a big fan of American movies, and he was aware that America projected - through the movies of James Dean and Marilyn Monroe, etc. - an image of freedom and liberty which Italians bought into when they bought a pair of Levi's denims or a packet of Marlboro cigarettes.
Out of this awareness grew the idea of making people – Italians as well as foreigners - fall in love with Italy, which provided the commercial rationale for academic studies such as semantics and semiotics. Nobody called it nation branding in those days, of course, but that is effectively what it was.
It's all the more interesting, because these academic studies of culture had their almae matres in Bologna and Urbino, predominantly left-wing cities and universities. Yet it was their commercial application - the awareness of a 'cultural capital' - that gave Italy its greatest economic value of all, something all Italian companies could ride on, and generate added value from: a nation brand. A simple, highly infectious brand, too: love, from which creation, craftsmanship, style and passion for design are all born.
Every product in the world has an Italian version you can fall in love with. If you've ever watched car critics review an Alfa Romeo, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. Every other car may be analysed for its comparative advantages and faults, but when they come to review an Alfa Romeo, they just sigh, turn up the opera music on their car stereos and talk about how much they love the car.
The crowning moment of this exercise was, of course, the World Cup of 1982, when Italy's 'Azzurri' won the title, and many Italians finally fell in love with their own country, developing a wonderful and relatively authentic relationship with their nation that would last for many years. Italians of a certain age remember with nostalgia and affection the tour of glory taken by the winning team, with Enzo Bearzot (the national coach) and Sandro Pertini (Italy's popular president, who was 86 years old at the time) on their shoulders.
Viral ideas vs. Statist programmes
Now, while it may appear that this sort of exercise should need a lot of work and money from government, Italy's example shows that the opposite is true: a simple, infectious idea doesn't need large committees and matching budgets. What you need more than anything is a grassroots-level, decentralised impulse. An infectious idea - the simpler, the better - is all you really need to start it. People and companies get behind the idea, giving them a line along which to position their own brands and products. After that, you just let it grow, subtly helping it along as it grows. Italy's brand development was very organic and spontaneous, in that respect.
To illustrate this difference, let's compare, for example, the success of Italy's cuisine – a simple, popular cuisine rooted in a history of poverty - with that of France. France, too, made a real effort to brand itself when Mitterrand came to power in '81. But through a lethal combination of overpoliticising, lack of accountability to taxpayers and design by committee, a lot of money was spent by central government with remarkably little return on investment.
That's not to say it wasn't successful. An entire generation of women will remember the films 'Jean de Florette' and 'Manon des Sources', which were effectively feature-length adverts for the Provence region of France. Since the 80s, there are entire regions of rural France that are populated with English bourgeoises who, having seen those films, seek to live the chic rustique lifestyle. Their kitchens are lined with copper pans, their dinner plates are padded with straw. French cuisine was, in the '80s, universally regarded as one of the very best.
The point is, however, that the cost of France's nation branding exercise was enormous, precisely because it wasn't based on an infectious idea entrepreneurs could take and run with, but on statist doctrines and top-down, centrally-run programmes. Jack Lang, Mitterrand's Minister of Culture, spent a colossal sum of money on the French film industry throughout the '80s, 10 times more than Britain. It may have seemed very impressive producing so many films at the time, but looking back, it's clear the country got remarkably few bangs for its buck from its nationbranding program. Again, looking at the food sector, French cuisine may be critically acclaimed, but it has failed to capture the hearts of the rest of the world the way Italian cuisine has. There may be a couple of French restaurants in every major city of the world, but there are a couple of Italian restaurants on every major street.
More importantly, open any urban family's kitchen cupboards in the world and you'll find at least a couple of Italian food products. The focus on gastronomy may have seemed obvious for France, but in terms of exports the return on investment will only appear if food products are themselves also manufactured and branded in one way or another. Many of the recipes used in French restaurants around the world do not actually call for products imported from France. When a person orders a canard à l'orange, a tarte normande or even a simple café au lait in a French restaurant in New York, no product or brand is used that actually comes from France, no French brands are exported from France to New York. When, on the other hand, a person orders a prosciutto salad or an espresso coffee in an Italian restaurant, chances are high that the prosciutto will actually be from Parma, and the olive oil and vinegar from Modena. If the restaurant is any good, the coffee will be Illy or Lavazza, too. Therein lies the difference.
Now… We've discussed the differences between the great pioneers of nation branding. Let's look at Marca Perú.
Clearly, this brand identity is a success. You don't need a Cannes Lion to realise that it has hit all the right notes: rarely has a nation's brand icon been so widely adopted by its people themselves. A year after its launch, you can walk on any street of the most popular neighbourhoods, and find a few people wearing a Marca Perú T-shirt or cap.
But, in the spirit of openness to a learning experience, let's try to look at some of the things we could improve in the overall strategy.
Let's compare, for example, Perú's position today with that of Italy during Aldo Moro's leadership. Italy, as mentioned earlier, had an endless list of manufactured and branded products to offer the world before starting this project. When 'Made in …' becomes a desired brand property and you've got everything from beer brands to fashion brands to car brands ready to ride on the added value you're creating as a nation brand, you're going to do very well in all sectors of your economy, not just gastronomy and tourism.
Tourism and gastronomy are, in other words, the low hanging fruits on the tree: the first ones you reach for, but by no means the only ones.
Aside from this, Perú's trade sector is mostly based on the export of raw materials and on the import of designed or manufactured products. Perú exports unbranded metals and imports branded cars. Perú exports unbranded gold, silver, minerals, copper, petrol-based materials, silicon… and imports branded watches, computers and mobile phones. Perú exports unbranded cotton and imports nearly all of its fashion items. This is a net loss: a kilo of cotton is worth just a fraction of the price of a branded T-shirt, a ton of metal is worth just a fraction of the price of a car.
In other words, Perú's productive sector is missing the very things that would most benefit from a nation branding exercise: designed, manufactured and branded products that the country can export to the rest of the world. You cannot brand corn unless you're making cornflakes. The key word is 'make'.
That's not to say there are no good manufacturers or artisans. On the contrary, Perú has plenty of great artisans, plenty of good mechanics, operators, etc. You can get almost anything made in Lima, from clothes to furniture, so long as you come with a clear design of how you want it. But there are very few entrepreneurs taking this up a level. There are no Benelli families starting up new motorbike brands in Perú.
A brand strategy for Perú
Brands aren't just something you buy into when you buy a product. They serve as a channel of expression for the people making the brand, too. When Patek Philippe put forward the idea that you never really own a Patek watch, you're just looking after it for the next generation, the message was not just adressed to consumers, but more importantly to the great craftsmen at the company, giving them a mission and values to work towards. When we presented Corum's brand philosophy that Corum watches are about 'unlocking your heart and conquering the world', it wasn't just adressed to watch buyers, but to the management and watchmakers themselves, giving them a simple standard of evaluation, a 'Corum prism' to see their actions through: courage. For example, asking the question 'Were we courageous enough with this campaign?' or 'Is this watch design bold enough?' is a good way to put one's work in the big picture of the Corum brand as a whole.
This is the true mission of a brand strategy, designing and expressing the heart and soul of a group of people who get behind an idea and make things that express this idea.
The people working behind Marca Perú are, of course, the Peruvian people themselves. The brand strategy must be oriented in order for them to derive added value from the idea: the culture that is expressed through the things they make. However, it won't reach its full potential if the kinds of product Peruvians try to export are not themselves brandable, as is the case with raw materials. It also won't be achieved through statist programmes that do not originate from them, that are not grassroots programmes.
The role of a nation branding agency is just that of a sower of seeds. In the case of Peru, nation branding exercises are there to sow the seeds of entrepreneurship, of design and manufacture, to encourage Peruvians to take the whole game up a level, so as to express their culture through the products they make.
Peruvian brands, made by Peruvian heroes
The nation branding strategy must therefore be to build a culture of respect for design and manufacture, for people and families staking their good name on the product they make, for people taking the big jump and starting their own business designing and making something better or something new.
This is a cultural challenge as much as anything else, and I believe it is tackled most effectively through the "heroes and icons" approach. We have seen the impact of heroes and icons in the gastronomy sector: hundreds of kids now dream of becoming the next Gaston Acurio or Pedro Schiaffino. And dozens of restaurants are looking to be a part of this gastronomic renaissance the country is going through. This is clearly an approach that works… So, let's create Gastons and Schiaffinos in other sectors, in any sector where know-how is the big differentiator, where 1 + 1 = 3, where things are made.
In 1861, when the various duchies, republics and kingdoms of the Italian peninsula were finally unified, the author Massimo d'Azeglio famously wrote: 'We have made Italy. Now we must make Italians.' pointing to the fact that a cultural change should occur for the Italian nation building project to be successful.
In the spirit of d'Azeglio, I say: 'We have made brand Perú. Now we must make Peruvian brands.'