Last week I mailed an e-flyer for this blog to around two hundred marketing, advertising, cultural news and political web pages to move its audience beyond the UK. Boy, did I get a reaction. Having indulged in a bit of Google narcissism, I can now give you quotes from the frontline…

'Only time, and gallons of petrol, will tell whether Neil Boorman finds enlightenment in a pile of smoldering ash.'

'…in a sick twist, he's doing it all to promote his own brand, a new book called Bonfire of the Brands.'

'Neil would get more accomplished if he lived in a block of ice, no wait, stood on top of a pole, no wait, lived underwater for a week.'

'.. taking on 'the brand' in order to change the economic order is like ending racism by getting a haircut.'

'I had a similar kind of feeling after reading this as I did when I watched Xmen 3. In the case of Xmen 3 I was thinking "why didn't Wolverine stab Storm with some of the same stuff he stabbed Magneto with?" whereas in the case of Neil Boorman's Brand Bonfire I wonder why he doesn't find a new home for each of his branded items with someone who really needs them.'



Self preservation of dignity prohibits me posting some of the more colourful comments ('YOU ARE AN IDIOT! Go you, Neil to the Bonfire'). So for those that don't trawl the net for half of the waking day, here's a handy summary of the current negative feeling towards Bonfire Of the Brands…

Burning my valuable goods is a sin

Promoting the book is a sin

Being paid to write the book is a sin

Not wanting to consume brands is a sin

Not wanting to end branded consumerism once and for all is a sin

On a brighter note, Justin D-Z (having properly read the blog and fully understanding that this project is not a call to arms to 'bring it all down' or a hollow publicity stunt) left an elegantly simple comment…

'I could do for a less branded world (not a brand-free world)'

Exactly.

'For great brands to survive, they must create loyalty beyond reason. The secret is the use of mystery, sensuality and intimacy… the power to create long-term emotional connections with consumers'
Kevin Roberts, CEO Saatchi & Saatchi

When I first started this book project, I was adamant that it would not turn into a simplistic, all-out brand bashing exercise. I thought (and still do) that the arguments raised by people like Naomi Klein were just a little bit simplistic, and that I would use this book/ documentary/ blog to argue for some sort of third way. The fact is that branded consumerism sustains competition in the marketplace. With no competition, there is no impulse for manufacturers to producer better products with greater value for money. Brands are wealth creators; they provide employment across the globe, and ultimately they make our lives infinitely more comfortable. So I have been keen to avoid the No Logo supporters' calls to 'bring it all down'. Yes, I am burning all my own branded possessions, and I will be attempting to live my new life brand-free, but the book is really an experiment to see if it is actually possible to disconnect from branded consumerism.



Would I prefer to live in a world without this sort of advert? Yes. Would I choose to live in a world without any branding whatsoever? For the aforementioned reasons, absolutely not. But when you read the above quote from Saatchi's Kevin Roberts, you have to wonder.



Anyone who's seen 'Videodrome' or 'They Live' knows that subliminal marketing techniques make for good conspiracy movies. Most sensible people would rationalise that advertising does have the potential to manipulate us in some way, but ultimately we are free to look away. But the more I read about the science of PR, marketing, and branding, the more I understand that the psychological triggers these industries use are incredibly powerful, and save for a few basic laws governing subliminal advertising, the emotional manipulation largely goes unchecked.



Say you meet a new lover. As you get to know each other, the person tells you how exciting and sexy you are, how right you are for each other. Being with that person, you feel more secure, emotionally, your ego getting a much-needed boost. You wake up beside them and feel a new sense of vigour, like you can take on the world.



Then one day you find out that the person has been stealing money from you. Come to think of it, you've been paying for all the meals and nights out since you both met. It dawns on you. this person is only in it for the money. Who could do such a thing? Who could be so cold and calculating and manipulative that they would feign intimacy, sensuality, in order to make a fast buck? Kevin Roberts is worldwide CEO of Saatchi because he is an expert in doing just that.

Marketing and Ad creatives don't evangelise about emotional branding just because it sounds good on their website, or sells self-help business management books. They talk about it because it works.

In an effort to welcome World Cup mad brethren around the world, the German town of Holzminden has created special smelling zones that will appeal to visiting nationalities. What do you suppose they used to sum up the smell of England? Fish and Chips, hot tea, freshly cut grass perhaps? Why, its After Eight Mints. While some countries were associated with more natural commodities (Mangoes in Mexico, Pina Colada in Brazil, Saffron in Iran) it was remarkable that developed nations like the France (Chanel No. 5) and the USA (Coca-Cola) and the UK were associated with branded products. I'm amazed that Tokyo wasn't attributed to Louis Vuitton bags… instead it was linked to the more organic smell of green tea.

Talking of Japan, Radio 4 aired a fascinating story about Japanese consumerism last week, where women openly confessed to choosing against childbirth so that they could afford the aforementioned Vuitton bags. You can re-play the show here…

http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/youandyours/shopping.shtml?start

There is something known as the Ladder Of Customer Needs in marketing speak, which separates the different motives that drive us to consume. The higher you climb up the ladder, the higher the value of the product becomes. When you use the ladder to break down the promises that brands make, it seems ridiculous that as media-savvy consumers, we still buy into all this rubbish. Here's some I made earlier…



Functional Attributes: the Samsung D600 is packed with lots of features

Functional Benefits: the features will make my phoning experience that much better

Emotional Benefits: I will feel more connected and special for having the phone

Aspirational Benefits: I will be successful and attractive like Jose Morinio, who when you come to think about it, is a bit like James Bond.



Functional Attributes: Powerade Aqua is water with added ingredients for active people

Functional Benefits: the water will refresh me and the active ingredients will give me more energy in the gym or something

Emotional Benefits: I will feel more dynamic and positive about myself

Aspirational Benefits: I will pull more girls down the pub and get a promotion at work



Functional Attributes: The Da Vinci Code is an entertaining adaptation of a popular book with popular actor Tom Hanks in it

Functional Benefits: on a rainy day with absolutely nothing else to do, it might be an entertaining way to kill two hours, maybe

Emotional Benefits: I will feel satisfied having watched the terrible movie that I never bothered reading the book

Aspirational Benefits: My self esteem will rise, secure in the knowledge that the majority of people have bad taste in books and films whereas I mine is immaculate

Please feel free to subit your own....

While I was stowed away in the Blue Ridge Mountains, a load of questions built up on the comments section (thank you everyone) which I neglected to answer so here goes.

Q. How much of your/our desire for brands is to do with Adorno-esque brainwashing of the masses as opposed to matters of taste? If there was a simple, elegant non-branded solution to how to dress, would that resolve some of your dilemmas? Put it another way, are you too aesthetically sensitive for an unbranded life? And if so, will you be or less happy after the burning?
Ekow Eshun.

A. I think it is through pure laziness that I have come to rely on brands to express myself. The sinking feeling I get from making a purchase has always told me that it was a nonsense, but I was too weak and lazy to do anything other than follow the crowd. I remember my Mother telling me that she used to make all her own clothes. That was only forty years ago, but it seems like the dark ages. At this moment in time, the future proposition of a brand-free life feels like a miserable place that I will have to endure and make more comfortable over time. But then I felt that about giving up alcohol, and though I'm less effervescent in the boozer at closing time these days, the world did not end.



Q. Your addiction to brands merely demonstrates a distinct lack of imagination when it comes to dressing, I reckon. Since when were the only two options either own brand Wal-Mart MOR fashion (or equivalent) and fucking Nike Dunk Wank Tops??
Anna Marie Crowhurst

A. You are of course right. There is a world of choice, and it is up to me to make it. That question really stung when I first read it, the Nike Dunk reference being quite hurtful. Not because you accuse me of trainer freak-dom, but because I would never wear Nike Dunk. I'm more of an Adidas Abdul Jabarr man myself.



Q. Picking up Mr Eshun's points on aesthetic sensitivity, brands and clothes, there is an underlying personal dilemma concerning status here; by stripping off the signifiers of one's own wealth and taste, can one reconcile one's self worth with a tasteless demeanor? Of course, I manage it all the time.
Matthew De Abaitua

A. Unless your are an incredibly self-aware type of person like Mr. De Abaitua here, we all surely believe we have good taste (also good drivers, good sense of humour). Rather than put our own taste to the test by using our own creativity, we throw money at brands to do the job for us, as if to say, "if I had the time or the inclination, this is how I would do it myself". One trip to an expensive store like Gucci proves the point about money and taste however. There's nothing more satisfying than seeing the leathery old millionaire's wives milling around Sloane Street, dressed head to toe in extravagant finery, but looking absolutely dreadful for it. What an admission of failure; for all the money and the opportunity serious money can bring, the best they can do with it is to buy back their self esteem via a £6,000 Hermes handbag. Still, we all live to our means, do we not?

Flying back to London I re-read Kalle Lasn's 'Culture Jam- How To reverse America's Suicidal Consumer Binge, And Why We Must' (with the cover turned back at all times because a. it's six years old and I don't want to look like a laggard, b. I never liked the phrase 'Culture Jam' because it sounds like a local authority-funded inner city Rap workshop and c. I don't want passengers to think I'm about to bring the plane down.)

Regardless of all that nonsense, Kalle Lasn pretty much has my number…

Do I 'sleep, eat, sit in a car, work, shop, watch TV, sleep again'?

Do I 'spend time in some ethereal place created from fantasy and want'?

Do I 'laugh at sitcom jokes more than my friends' jokes'?

Do I 'spend more evenings enjoying video sex than making love myself'?

The answer to all the above is yes, except the last one, which is nobody's business but my own, and since you ask, no I do not. Anyhow, I am bristling with empowerment as I read the manifesto. I need to disconnect the TV, I need to think carefully every time I am driven to make a purchase, I need to ignore the adverts… there's more but this would be a start. All through the interconnecting flights to the train and the cab home, I read on and I feel stronger than ever about the task ahead. I get home, drop the bags and pace around a bit. Open some mail. Look out the window. Do the laundry. What next? Ah well, a bit of telly won't hurt.. I'll have a doze in front of the box. Sitting on the end of the bed, staring blankly at the ads, it is exhausting. Pringles World Cup. Mars World Cup. Nike World Cup. Visa World Cup. Pah, what a load of rubbish. I'm better off going for a walk to shake off the jetlag.



For three weeks in Virginia I've been wearing the same smelly shorts and t-shirts, not caring about my appearance bar the odd shower and shave, after all, the cows don't cross to the other field if you wearing the wrong Wellington boots. But now I'm walking through Soho, in YSL, New Balance, Polo, American Apparel and Cazal. And I feel… fantastic… like the famous scene from Saturday Night Fever when L Ron Hubbard, sorry, John Travolta struts down the street to 'Stayin' Alive'. I am transformed back to my former self.



One guy glimpses at my sneakers (you can't get these over here mate, they're Virginia-only). In a store, the assistant notices the YSL buttons on my jacket (that's right darling I can lay down serious money when I want to) and a friend I bump into asks me where I got my sunglasses (these old things? original Run DMC glasses, I was given them when editing Sleazenation). I personally make what seems like a thousand mental observations of people and their brands in the space of an hour's walk around town. Feels good to be back.

Relationships with mass brands can soothe the 'empty selves' left behind by society's abandonment of tradition and community and provide stable anchors in an otherwise changing world. The formation and maintenance of brand-product relationships serve many culturally-supported roles within postmodern society.
Susan Fournier - Harvard Business School

Every time I think I'm a step closer to letting go of these damn brands, a situation comes along that makes me realise how utterly brainwashed I have become and how much further I have to go. The burning is only four months away, and though the research I'm doing for the book is helping me to understand how I have come to be this way, I'm not any closer to reprogramming my mind.

Picking up on my obvious cabin fever, marooned on the farm, a friend suggested we go on another shopping trip (like most places these days, shopping is leisure here in Virginia), this time to a sprawling retail park about an hour down the road. Of course, I said yes.



During the hour long drive to the sprawling Valley View retail park (the size of a small country), we planned the day's consumerism.

"I can take you to Wall Mart, and then Sam's Club. Wall Mart does very good, cheap clothes. You can pick up some reasonable shirts there, and they might have tennis shoes on special"

"What kind of tennis shoes? Nike, that sort of thing?"

"No, I think just Wall Mart's own."

"Er, is there not a Footlocker nearby? Or a department store?"

"Those stores are double the price! No, we'll go to Wall Mart. You might even find something to take home to your fiancé… what kind of stuff does she like? How about jewellery"

"Well, I've bought her some Vivienne Westwood jewellry before"

"Vivienne Whatnow?"

"Er, never mind."

Next thing I know, I'm standing in between some waist high bargain bins of no brand, no style, no I wouldn't wear these if you paid me tennis shoes in Wall Mart. 'I wouldn't wear those if you paid me'. That was the kind of thing I would say to my parents when they dragged me around British Home Stores in 1987.



"You're not looking. Nothing take your fancy?"

"No it does not."

I could feel a strop coming on. A strop… I'm thirty years old for God's sake. No, it was definitely coming. I knew a strop when I felt one…. I'm not like the people milling in the isles, dressed in regulation leisurewear. Chino shorts, no name button down polo, some unknown make of sneakers, all bought on special. Nothing fancy. Nothing outrageous. Nothing that would cause anyone to look and stare. Heaven forbid. We wouldn't want to be different. The tyranny of leisurewear. Plain colours, plain cut, plain bloody boring. If this was what life was like on the other side, I might as well pack the book in and go back to the Lacoste store. I'm worth more than this. I'm special. I'm different. You should be able to tell that, just by looking at me.

"Why do ya want to pay a hundred Dollars for a pair of fancy jeans, when you can get the same here for twenty bucks? Its just a label."

"Well, uh, you see, in London it's different, we don't…"

She looked at me blankly. It was impossible to explain. I was crushed by the infuriating simplicity of her argument.

I gathered all the humility a London style mag editor can muster and we pressed on. The bossa nova muzak chugged on in the background. The intercom announced a one day sale on reinforced heel footie socks. I tokenly tried on a fetching pair of durable sta-press nylon trousers (coated with Teflon!). They didn't quite fit. Shame.

At this point in my life, I am finding it both helpful and comforting to remember the following motivational clichés…