The MonaVie Problem

Isn't there some old-timey Hollywood phrase that goes "You should be in pictures?" I always imagine that being said to some dazzling ingénue working as a waitress, who would then be inspired to shed her small-town ways and head to tinsel town. I've always wished for my own version of that--dreamt that some advertising executive would walk by me someday and blurt "You should be in advertising, doll face!" after overhearing me effusively praising a product or giving blow-by-blow commentary on a Consumer Reports article. The truth is, I've always been "into products." Not that I'm a big consumer by any means. In fact, I spend most of my money at the U-Scans at a trio of area Meijers. Still, I say I'm into products because of how truly enraptured I get while shopping. I cast off my ego and lose all sense of time while scanning shelves, reading the backs of packages, comparing their color-schemes, musing on their brand image and, as an afterthought, deciding whether or not to put it in my basket. (I am exclusively a basket-shopper. Having to navigate and control a cart takes away from product contemplation--and general peace of mind--I've found) And when I do buy something, I'm convinced it’s the best. "I love anything with Arm &Hammer on it" "You absolutely can't go wrong with 3M." "I trust Panasonic. I really do." And of course my most ringing product endorsement is that of older model Volvo cars, even though I seem to love them for the implications of their failings rather than any particular merit. "I love how they hang back when you accelerate! As if they're saying 'who are you to hurry me?!" "I love how unresponsive they are! Like they're too dignified to hop-to just because you turn the wheel!"

I'm the very symbol of brand-loyalty, and the best example of the power of packaging. Anything that's got a crisp, minimalist bent will find its way into my basket. Playful, we're-in-this-together-this isn't really-advertising copy gets me too. And usual bottle shapes? I try to overuse dishwashing liquid just so I can re-purchase Method brand dish soap, in the hourglass bottle. While I know I'm being taken by advertising tricks, I sure do love the wooing. If something wants to romance me with aesthetics, wit, and mock familiarity, by all means. If only my fellow man would put such efforts into my beguiling!
So I should be in advertising! That was today's mock epiphany. But, just to give it a shot, I thought I'd "reconceptualize" a particularly bad brochure I came across. MonaVie is an extremely expensive luxury health drink that comes in wine-style bottles with a label of hushed hunter green and burgundy. The packaging gets high marks, but the brand image is schizophrenic at best. If you care to read on, I suggest searching "MonaVie" on the net so you can see the before to better appreciate the efforts of my after. In my attempt to court to rich folk, I use the tried-and-true method of behaving as if I was too respectful of their "taste" to tell them what they would and wouldn't like. Rich folk like advertising that grovels like a handmaid. "Here's a product, my lord. I know your taste and discernment is so far above mine that I wouldn't be within my rights to tell you its good. But let me humbly offer it for your perusal." ***************************************
The MonaVie problem.
Description: MonaVie is a high-end nutritional drink made from common and exotic fruits. MonaVie, rather than being stocked in health food stores, is offered to the public through door-to-door type distributors, in the mold of Mary Kay products etc. The problem with MonaVie's promotional materials is twofold. First, they seem to want to distance their product (and warrant its fine-wine price) from "health drinks" by marketing it as delicacy and a luxury item. However, much of the promotional materials push MonaVie as a super-charged health-product. These two threads of MonaVie's appeal are never brought together, giving the consumer an impression that MonaVie is neither a bona-fide health product nor a legitimate luxury. Though their brochure ends with boasting that MonaVie "challenges the notion of what a health drink should be", the nature of this challenge is left unsaid, again leaving consumers to think that this so-called "challenge" is nothing but empty copy and a bluff.

Companies with this type of distribution system have an image of shiftiness and desperation in the public's imagination. "Door-to-door salesmen" have about the same reputation as used-car salesmen when it comes to integrity and forthrightness. For this reason, MonaVie needs to work extra hard to make their enterprise, and product, seem legitimate. Particularly because MonaVie wants to present itself as luxury product, they need to counter the stereotypical image of their business model (high-end products are not normally linked with this type of distribution). Unfortunately, the language of MonaVie's brochures is both vague and effusive--the traditional marks of evasiveness in selling. Cases in point: "MonaVie is an exquisite health drink destined to make a profound difference in the lives of countless people of the world" and "it is designed to bring you optimal levels of wellness as well as the finer things in life." These phrases are typical of the copy in their brochures. The language is unclear, and sounds more like much like a carnival-barker selling snake-oil rather than a pithy description of an upscale product.

If I were to work on MonaVie's campaign, I'd begin by writing copy that stressed the uniqueness of MonaVie over its health benefits and quality. Without doing this, consumers will be leafing through the brochure asking themselves "what's this stuff again?" By making a clear statement that situates MonaVie in relation to other health food drinks and "the finer things," readers need not wonder. MonaVie truly is unprecedented, and this fact needs to lead their campaign The vast majority of heavy-duty health drinks are marketed to either the organic/co-op consumers or the serious athlete, and majority of expensive beverages are alcoholic. Since MonaVie wants to market itself as a health drink to status-conscious buyers, they need to reconcile MonaVie's images as both nutritional and designer. Here's a sample of what I'd do.

MonaVie: Your Sensibility. Your Style. Your Health. Your Choice.
You discern. You upgrade. You opt for leather. You spot a knock-off. You buy the original. You trust your taste. But when it comes to nutrition, you find yourself at the mercy of experts. You're told you need certain vitamins, but you're told not to take vitamins, you're told to cut carbs, and then carb-load, you told to eat only fish, or avoid them altogether…Your reliable radar of quality seems useless in the world of daily values, doctors, and diets. Yet taste is more than a sensibility. Its more than a preference. Its an innate ability to know the difference between what's quality and what's hype. MonaVie is a designer health beverage that doesn't condescend to you. It doesn't switch stories. It doesn't tell you what you should and shouldn't drink, or what you should and shouldn't like. That's always been up to you. What MonaVie does do is throw out the old distinction between health food and delicacy, indulgence and benefit. Monavie is an artful blend of nineteen fruits purees, including the rare acai fruit of the Amazon. It’s a powerful medley of antioxidants that has been shown to neutralize harmful free-radicals in the body. But you don't need to broadcast that to your dinner guests. Don't ruin the magic of their first sip with logistics. They can hear all about its health benefits after they stop raving about the exoticism of its flavor, the sensuality of its texture. MonaVie. It's more than a matter of taste.