by Lori Deschene
It’s no secret: celebrities wield amazing influence. Victoria Beckham could wear a lampshade on her head and every store from Kmart to Kitson would be hawking home décor couture. Since the advertising landscape becomes more saturated by the day—online, on TV, and even through product placement in movies—retailers are smart to take advantage of this phenomenon.
Assuming you have a few minutes to kill before your next eBay auction ends, let’s take a look at some of the most popular “celebrity seeding” relationships in recent history:
If you happen to frequent celebrity sites—which I only do after reading the New Yorker in French while listening to NPR—you know Arriva is like LaLohan’s third hand. That, and her pack of cigs. Not the best endorsement, but you know what they say: no press is bad press.
Fitty even put the product in his music videos—because who doesn’t think about vitamins and hydration when they’re sweating it out “in da club”? He grew from a fan to a brand spokesperson, prompting the company to create “Formula 50” in his honor.
Though the average person doesn’t need to see Bennifer 2.0 with Starbucks to shell out $20/£10 for a latte,rumor has it the Seattle-based company solicited them to boost the brand.
I personally wouldn’t wrap my calves in puppies to be more like America’s sweethearts, but I’m clearly not the average girl.
If Oprah claimed drinking battery acid was the key to longevity, poison centers worldwide would see lines of women around the block. International communications company Fleishman-Hillard leveraged that influence to build a buzz for UPS. In 2005, UPS Store employees served as on-air Santa’s helpers during the annual “Oprah’s Favorite Things” episode.
These celebrities, among others, participated in a unique campaign called FREEDOM: A STORY IN PICTURES, meant to show the ease of CD photography. Each celebrity took
photos of what freedom means to them, which were then auctioned on eBay for charity. Because nothing says freedom and good will toward men like consumerism and brand loyalty.
In ’99, Pfizer paid US presidential hopeful Dole to become the poster boy for erectile dysfunction, just as Viagra was hitting the market. Apparently, he misunderstood the phrase, “sex sells.”
That’s right—celebrities even sell us on mental illnesses. The pharmaceutical industry knows restless leg syndrome will only sell so many pills. But shyness, now that’s a goldmine.
The rapper featured the bubbly in videos and photos for years; then in a sort of reverse-celebrity-seeding, a Crystal corporate executive inadvertently implied the hip-hop community reflected poorly on the brand.
This is the big one—the ultimate in celebrity endorsement. One could argue Tom’s pushing Scientology is as innocent as handing your neighbor a pamphlet on Christianity. Except priests pass around a basket asking for loose change, while scientologists demand thousands for auditing and courses.
That’s really just the tip of the iceberg. Even a slightly recognizable face is like money in the bank for corporations. Odds are your mailman makes a pretty penny to deter your dog with a specific brand of treats.
So here’s the million-dollar question: are you buying what they’re selling?