INSIDE
BOOK CONTRIBUTORS
Alex Balk, Smoker
Carol Diehl, Art Critic
Matthew Gallaway , Novelist
Megan Lubaszka, Architect
Angela Serratore, Historian
Tim Siedell, Ad Man
Natasha Simons, Writer
Christina Perry & Derrick Gee, Designers
Dave Wilkie, Ad Man
PALS
“Get me Bert’s man at the Wall Street Journal”
Well, today, that would be me:
When you see copywriter Peggy Olson swilling scotch with her new blue-eyed layout designer Joey, flirting and pitching Ham ads on the premiere episode of the new season of “Mad Men,” you are actually witnessing a recreation of a revolution in advertising. Up until the 1960’s, advertising was considered a written medium. The most successful ad campaigns, it was believed, had the most convincing argument. An agency’s creative powers were stationed squarely in writer’s room while art directors were considered subordinate “lay out men.”
‘Mad Men’: The Promiscuous Mingling of Art and Copy at the WSJ
“Research has created a lot of advertising techinicians who know all the rules. They can tell you that babies and dogs will attract more readers. They can tell you that body copy should be broken you for easier reading…

They can tell you all the right things, and give you fact after fact. They’re the scientists of advertising …

It is simply not enough to say the right thing. Things have to be said that motivate people. The difference is art.”
—Robert Gage, copy writer for Doyle Dane Bernbach

(ads via)
“I told the team that I wanted the car to appeal to women, but I wanted men to desire it, too.”
-Joe Oros, Ford Product Design
* * *
If ever there was a car that inspired raw desire, it was 1964’s Ford Mustang. Ford’s most successful product since the Model T, the Mustang created the “pony car” class of American automobile — sports car-like coupes with long hoods and short rear decks designed to appeal to the Man in every American male.

Unlike the Volkswagen Beetle, the Mustang came prepared to sell itself—it’s debut at the World’s Fair was followed by a print campaign in which bright-eyed, bushy-tailed young couples got as close as was decent and eyed the car’s sleek body and lush interior.

The price was low (starting at $2368, the Mustang was almost a thousand bucks cheaper than the 1964 average, making it especially attractive to teenagers and young men), his grip on her was tight, and there was nary a child in sight—the Mustang was decidedly not a family car, though it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that more than a few families were started in the Mustang’s backseat.

That’s not to say Ford’s product design and marketing teams weren’t interested in Draper-style tactics—consider this anecdote, from Gary L. Witzeburg’s Mustang: The Complete History of America’s Pioneer Pony Car:
“Among the many accolades heaped upon the first Mustang, including the prestigious Industrial designer’s Institute Award, perhaps the most cherished by Henry Ford II was the Tiffany Gold Medal Award, bestowed by the famed diamond merchant “For Excellence in American Design.” Walter Hoving, Tiffany & Company chairman, presented the medal to Mr. Ford during the April 13th World’s fair press introduction ceremonies, and it marked the first time this prestigious honor had been awarded to an automobile.

Actually, according to then Mustang product planner Hal Sperlich, it had happened because Ford PR people had approached Tiffany, instead of the other way around. “Somebody said, ‘You know, the car really ought to win an award; it ought to be an award-winning car,’ but there wasn’t anything suitable,” Sperlich recalls. “So somebody was dispatched to see Walter Hoving, and Walter agreed …provided he could look the car over to make sure it was suitable, and the deal was struck.”

The Mustang’s popularity continued to rise throughout the 60s, and it’s starring role as Steve McQueen’s ride in 1968’s Bullit cemented it’s status as the ultimate symbol of American vehicular virility.
For more of McQueen Mustang-d Manliness check out the divine Selvedge Yard.
Footnote by Angela Serratore


