How deep is your love, how high is your truth?

By Mel Arrow, CSO at McCann London.

I’m in Wagamama and I’m eavesdropping on the dad and daughter conversation happening next to me. “Life is all about finding hacks and clever ways around things. You should learn from me, dad.”

I’ve listened long enough to ascertain that she’s 21 and has just ordered two meals from the kids' menu, which in her words means more food, more variety, and all for ￡2 cheaper than her dad’s singular, adult main course.?

It’s hard to argue with her logic, but one thing is obvious. This is about more than a food order. This is about social currency. You’ll find Gen Z engaging in this kind of hack behaviour all over TikTok. It’s a badge of honour and it’s bigger than a trend.

It’s about signalling smartness, control and mastery of the world, which is particularly potent when done in front of a parent. It shows that you see the world as malleable, because you’re willing to free yourself from societal convention to get what you want in faster, cheaper and new ways.?

The mini katsu curry eater isn’t the only one doing some semiotic signalling tonight though. I’ve just sent my sister a picture of my noodles, accompanied by a message saying: “Solo dinner before solo trip to the theatre.” My sister went to the same play on her own weeks before.

Both of us take pleasure in doing cultural things that you’re supposed to do with other people, alone. There are so many benefits: no scheduling issues, more headspace to decide your own opinions, but really it’s just about wanting to see something enough that you would rather go alone than miss it.

Elevate the two observations about me and the 21-year-old to their highest order and you reach the same truth. We both stand for individuality, carving our own path and rejecting the social order or, in other words, enlightenment.

You might draw the conclusion that there’s more that unites us than divides us (and this is not me trying to liken myself to a 21-year-old for the sake of it, honestly). You might, in fact, build a whole brand strategy around it. But in doing so, there’s a trade-off. We lose the nuance and reality of kids meals and solo theatre trips. What we gain in inclusion and breadth, we lose in richness and deeper connection.?

And herein lies a reality: all truths have a height, some are taller than others, but when it comes to brand strategy, it’s our job to plot the altitude we should fly at.?

Thinking in this way can lead to some surprising discoveries. You might be blown away by how high you can fly without a truth losing its personal connection or resonance. Take Nurofen, for example: a few years ago we developed the brand platform “See my pain” designed to highlight the gender pain gap, aka the phenomenon of female-pain dismissal.

We were shocked at how widespread the issue is. One in two women had experienced it. Meaning that, in developing Nurofen’s brand strategy, we could fly the plane high and still speak to women across generations in a way that felt grounded and personal.?

Other times, it feels right to fly closer to the ground. But how might we check that intuition? Some questions we should ask ourselves: at what point does a truth stop feeling real and start losing its power? At what point does the truth start to blend in with the category? When does it feel unique to you and when could it be anyone’s? What is the most inspiring height and when does it tip over into parody? Are we mass or exclusive and what is the altitude at which one becomes the other??

Height is a dimension of truth we, as an industry, don’t often talk about. We talk about depth and resonance, but I believe height and altitude are just as crucial to positioning a brand in the correct way.?

Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be getting back to my full time job of professional eavesdropping in chain restaurants…

Originally published in Campaign Magazine, July 2024. ?