All the news we could fit in print.
The redacted black bar, that familiar symbol of government suppression and official secrecy, has found a new home: the marketing department.
Continue reading →The temperature on the Croisette this year was apparently so extreme that it became difficult to concentrate on anything but the physical act of not perspiring.
The trouble with being a spokesfish is that the pond keeps changing.
There is a certain kind of argument that improves with age, provided you have the patience to keep making it.
There is a particular kind of marketing discipline that involves not doing something, and it turns out to be harder than it looks.
For several years now, the operators of retail media networks have been selling advertisers on the considerable virtues of shopper data — the ability to know, with some precision, who bought the laundry detergent and when they might buy it again.
The holding company that has spent the better part of a decade telling anyone who would listen that it was building the advertising industry's most sophisticated data and technology infrastructure now finds itself in a familiar position: being proved right, slowly.
The marketing world has developed a certain weary familiarity with affiliate fraud, the way New Yorkers have learned to walk past scaffolding without looking up.
There is a particular kind of nostalgia that involves remembering not just a time, but remembering how good you were at that time.
There was a time, not so long ago, when bringing advertising work inside the corporate walls was presented primarily as an accounting decision — a way to pay fewer agency fees and maintain somewhat more control over one's own brand assets.