All the news we could fit in print.
The model is as old as the magazine rack at the sporting goods store: a publisher inspires readers to buy gear, then collects a small tribute when they do.
Continue reading →
The advertising industry has spent the better part of a decade assuring itself that influencer marketing is no longer experimental, that it has matured, that it deserves a seat at the grown-ups' table.
It is a truth universally acknowledged in advertising that a financial services company in possession of an F1 sponsorship must be in want of a race car to put in its commercials.
The food delivery company Just Eat, having spent a considerable sum on celebrity-driven campaigns over the past several years, has concluded that there might be a better use for all that money.
The inventor of the Pringles can, Fredric Baur, was buried in one.
The advertising industry has long excelled at convincing consumers to buy things they did not know they needed.
The French holding company Havas, which has spent much of the last decade as the smallest of the major advertising conglomerates, appears to have found something in North America that its larger rivals have misplaced: momentum.
The phrase "shots on goal" has been part of advertising vocabulary for about as long as there have been goals to shoot at, which is to say since the first person with something to sell realized that some customers buy and most do not.
The notion that sports is a relationship business has been repeated so often it has become one of those truths that is both obvious and useless — obvious because everyone knows it, useless because knowing it does not actually help you get into the room where the relationships are being formed.
The brand that once sold safari jackets alongside prose about the Serengeti has found a new way to tell stories: a five-episode office comedy on TikTok.