All the news we could fit in print.
The history of American advertising is, in part, the history of brands figuring out what to do with new screens.
The history of American advertising is, in part, the history of brands figuring out what to do with new screens.
In the advertising business, as in the rideshare business, the phrase "renewed relationship" can mean many things.
The company that once told Madison Avenue to keep its hands off the iPhone is now, ever so quietly, leaving the door ajar.
The announcement that an agency has given its chief creative officer more responsibility is one of those pieces of news that arrives with the regularity of the tides, and with approximately as much surprise.
The ancient art of guilting a friend into making a decision has now been industrialized.
The streaming wars have always been about subscribers, until suddenly they were about advertising.
The advertising holding companies have long treated their agency rosters the way some people treat closet space: periodically convinced that consolidation will solve everything, only to discover a few years later that they need more room.
The satellite radio company that once seemed destined to live or die by Howard Stern has been steadily assembling a portfolio of podcast properties, and its latest acquisition comes from a talent pipeline that would have seemed improbable to the medium's founders: a drag queen competition series on
There was a time, not so long ago, when corporate sponsors at the WNBA All-Star Game could spread out a bit.
It has long been observed that the simplest product truths are the hardest to dramatize well, and that doing so twice is harder still.