Relatable to SZ, I think.
Richard Littlewood, the president of G.J. Littlewood & Son, a fiber dye house in Philadelphia, recently welcomed a client, Soraya Darabi, to his plant.
Littlewood colorizes wool and synthetic fibers for products ranging from pea coats for the Navy to N.B.A. mascots, from high-fashion pieces to home-crafting supplies. Mr. Littlewood develops colors and then dyes them onto fibers in the company’s brick-walled plant, which is dominated by giant dye kettles, dryers and bale pressers.
Mr. Littlewood’s great-great-grandfather opened for business in this same factory in 1869. “This is a piece of United States history,” Mr. Littlewood says, “and it’s still in motion, and it’s still supplying things, so we’re proud to be here.”
That kind of provenance matters to Ms. Darabi, a co-founder of the online retailer Zady with her friend Maxine Bédat. Zady, based in New York, sells clothing, household items, jewelry and office supplies from companies that the founders have researched for ethical practices and whose stories they share on the site.
The two women this year created their own clothing label, starting with a wool knit sweater, and they chose Littlewood to dye the fiber. Ms. Darabi was visiting Philadelphia to learn more about the manufacturer’s story.
“We are making it entirely in the U.S.,” Ms. Bédat says of the sweater. “And by make we mean source and make, from the sheep farm in Oregon to the wash house, dye house, processing and knitting. Along the way we’ve met some amazing characters. They really tell the story of the history of the country.”
Stories are important to Zady’s owners. Knowing where their products come from allows them to keep tabs on the way many of their products are made. The narratives also connect consumers to other people and places, adding a personal and experiential component to a tangible good and giving it an aura of authenticity.
For example, Zady sells leashes and collars from Found My Animal, started by a pair of friends who met while walking their rescue Chihuahuas. The products feature “New England marine-grade nautical rope and waxed thread, giving the collars and leashes an authentic look and sturdy design,” according to the Zady website.
Authenticity is a fuzzy concept, but Julie Napoli, a marketing professor at Curtin University, and colleagues recently reported in The Journal of Business Research that consumers see three dimensions to brand authenticity: heritage, sincerity and commitment to quality.
Ms. Bédat says people love being a part of an authentic brand because they aren’t just buying into a logo — but also “buying into a set of values.”
Tito’s Handmade Vodka, of Austin, Tex., is another company that emphasizes authenticity in its marketing. Its website tells the life story of Tito Beveridge, the founder, highlighting his commitment to quality while also pushing the heritage angle: The vodka is “made in small batches in an old-fashioned pot still,” using a “time-honored method.” The approach seems to be working: Last year, the company sold 1.3 million cases of vodka, compared with 365,000 in 2010.
Heritage comes through loud and clear when a company puts down roots and stays there. George E. Newman and Ravi Dhar, professors at the Yale School of Management, reported this year in the Journal of Marketing Research that consumers especially valued products that came from a company’s original factory.
In one study, subjects who read about a pair of jeans made in the Levi Strauss plant built in San Francisco after the 1906 earthquake rated it as containing more of the “true essence” of the brand, compared with people who read about Levi jeans from a newer factory. The first group also rated the pants as more “authentic” and were more willing to pay a premium for them.
Another experiment found that original factories also increased the perceived authenticity and value of chocolates and handbags — and that the effect was stronger after subjects read about the spread of laughter or poison ivy, subtly enhancing thoughts of contagion, according to the authors. The Yale authors quote marketing language from several companies that play up a sense of tradition:
■ From Hershey’s: “Hershey, Pa. is where it all started more than 100 years ago, and it’s still where the famous Hershey’s Kisses are made.”
■ From Fuller’s Brewery: “Our brewery’s stood in London, beside the Thames, since 1845.”
■ From New Balance, referring to its factory in Norridgewock, Me.: “Built in 1945, the Depot Street building is the workplace of almost 400 associates. Each pair of shoes they produce is a proud work of craftsmanship that carries a little bit of the long history that is the town and its people.”
Richard Littlewood, the president of G.J. Littlewood & Son, a fiber dye house in Philadelphia, recently welcomed a client, Soraya Darabi, to his plant.
Littlewood colorizes wool and synthetic fibers for products ranging from pea coats for the Navy to N.B.A. mascots, from high-fashion pieces to home-crafting supplies. Mr. Littlewood develops colors and then dyes them onto fibers in the company’s brick-walled plant, which is dominated by giant dye kettles, dryers and bale pressers.
Mr. Littlewood’s great-great-grandfather opened for business in this same factory in 1869. “This is a piece of United States history,” Mr. Littlewood says, “and it’s still in motion, and it’s still supplying things, so we’re proud to be here.”
That kind of provenance matters to Ms. Darabi, a co-founder of the online retailer Zady with her friend Maxine Bédat. Zady, based in New York, sells clothing, household items, jewelry and office supplies from companies that the founders have researched for ethical practices and whose stories they share on the site.
The two women this year created their own clothing label, starting with a wool knit sweater, and they chose Littlewood to dye the fiber. Ms. Darabi was visiting Philadelphia to learn more about the manufacturer’s story.
“We are making it entirely in the U.S.,” Ms. Bédat says of the sweater. “And by make we mean source and make, from the sheep farm in Oregon to the wash house, dye house, processing and knitting. Along the way we’ve met some amazing characters. They really tell the story of the history of the country.”
Stories are important to Zady’s owners. Knowing where their products come from allows them to keep tabs on the way many of their products are made. The narratives also connect consumers to other people and places, adding a personal and experiential component to a tangible good and giving it an aura of authenticity.
For example, Zady sells leashes and collars from Found My Animal, started by a pair of friends who met while walking their rescue Chihuahuas. The products feature “New England marine-grade nautical rope and waxed thread, giving the collars and leashes an authentic look and sturdy design,” according to the Zady website.
Authenticity is a fuzzy concept, but Julie Napoli, a marketing professor at Curtin University, and colleagues recently reported in The Journal of Business Research that consumers see three dimensions to brand authenticity: heritage, sincerity and commitment to quality.
Ms. Bédat says people love being a part of an authentic brand because they aren’t just buying into a logo — but also “buying into a set of values.”
Tito’s Handmade Vodka, of Austin, Tex., is another company that emphasizes authenticity in its marketing. Its website tells the life story of Tito Beveridge, the founder, highlighting his commitment to quality while also pushing the heritage angle: The vodka is “made in small batches in an old-fashioned pot still,” using a “time-honored method.” The approach seems to be working: Last year, the company sold 1.3 million cases of vodka, compared with 365,000 in 2010.
Heritage comes through loud and clear when a company puts down roots and stays there. George E. Newman and Ravi Dhar, professors at the Yale School of Management, reported this year in the Journal of Marketing Research that consumers especially valued products that came from a company’s original factory.
In one study, subjects who read about a pair of jeans made in the Levi Strauss plant built in San Francisco after the 1906 earthquake rated it as containing more of the “true essence” of the brand, compared with people who read about Levi jeans from a newer factory. The first group also rated the pants as more “authentic” and were more willing to pay a premium for them.
Another experiment found that original factories also increased the perceived authenticity and value of chocolates and handbags — and that the effect was stronger after subjects read about the spread of laughter or poison ivy, subtly enhancing thoughts of contagion, according to the authors. The Yale authors quote marketing language from several companies that play up a sense of tradition:
■ From Hershey’s: “Hershey, Pa. is where it all started more than 100 years ago, and it’s still where the famous Hershey’s Kisses are made.”
■ From Fuller’s Brewery: “Our brewery’s stood in London, beside the Thames, since 1845.”
■ From New Balance, referring to its factory in Norridgewock, Me.: “Built in 1945, the Depot Street building is the workplace of almost 400 associates. Each pair of shoes they produce is a proud work of craftsmanship that carries a little bit of the long history that is the town and its people.”
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