Sales & Marketing
Off the Vine
If your job has anything to do with wine marketing, and you have a pulse, you've probably spent more than one sleepless night wondering what makes consumers tick. I don't claim to have the answer (beyond a shot of brandy), but I do think my perspective as a wine entertainer--devising tastings weekly for all sorts of wine drinkers--may shed a little light on this nagging black hole of wine-selling savoir-faire.
Keep in mind that most of the people I come in contact with are at parties and events. They are guests, happy to be along for the ride, as opposed to people who pay their own way to learn more about wine. Much of my clientele is comprised of people who truly enjoy wine but will never become Grape Nuts. I like to refer to them as the Everyone Else among wine drinkers.
The most telling distinction between Grape Nuts and Everyone Else is that Grape Nuts care. When presented with a wine, Grape Nuts care about the grape(s), place, vintage, food compatibility, ageability, etc. As for Everyone Else, caring is usually limited to what is in their glass. They focus on the here and now of wine--not on anything that went into the growing or making of said wine. The fact is, whatever you tell them will probably exit their minds even before the wine they are drinking exits their bodies.
Everyone Else is simply wired differently. Wine professionals are so far removed from wine innocence that it's hard to appreciate this mindset, and I confess it took me several years of "teaching" before it finally clicked for me. But there is no escaping the reality that countless intelligent human beings, even those who call wine their favorite beverage, are uncannily unable to retain even the most basic data about wines they drink and enjoy.
It's not that they don't "get it." They understand that variables ranging from soil and technology to type of barrel and bottle age can impact wine. But information that strays too far from the glass in hand just doesn't compute. So while Grape Nuts and Everyone Else can sit and enjoy and discuss a bunch of great wines, Everyone Else has only half a mind when it comes to remembering brand names, places of origin, even grapes on the label.
Consider this e-mail I got from someone after creating a wine bar for a private dinner party in suburban New York: "The wines were delicious. When you get a chance, can you e-mail a list to me? That Champagne was awesome (something with a P), there was a Pinot that was great and something else red that was a real winner."
Never mind for a moment that she could have taken a sheet listing the wines that night (I always bring a stack; Grape Nuts are the only ones who look at it). Let's give her credit for having the wherewithall to follow up and ask what I was pouring. FYI, the P "Champagne" was a Prosecco; the Pinot was the Owen Roe 2004 Sharecropper's bottling from Oregon; and I have no idea which other red she loved…and may never know. I had eight there; all she remembered was the color.
It's not that this person didn't have a clue; she just had too few. And that's a pattern I see a lot among Everyone Else. Like an executive who receives a case of wine as a gift, drinks through it and then can only remember that it was a big red, it came from Italy and it was a 1997. Or the woman who implored me to help her figure out a wine she recently had in a restaurant. She could only remember it being presented to her as "a red wine that used to be white" (it turned out to be Zinfandel, but only Bacchus knows what brand).
Interestingly, these memory-challenged enophiles are not that far removed from Name Droppers, whom I consider a subset of Everyone Else. These people don't actually know what they are looking for in wine, but they think they do--because they are only interested in recognizable, iconic wines.
I ran into this phenomenon just the other week, as well. After I told an event planner that I was going to bring a Spanish blend and Alsace Riesling to a happy hour tasting, I was told that one of the Wall Street clients involved in the planning had asked "Where is the Silver Oak and the Opus One? And does he have any ice wine?"
Was this Wall Streeter a snob? Not at all, just someone banking on the safety and status of famous names; and these were the only ones he remembered.
The real point from these anecdotes is this: How do you try to sell wine to people who can try it in a perfect context--with great food, among friends and colleagues--but can't remember even the wines they really like? And how does a wine brand somehow make it out of that nebulous stew of "something with a P" to become a confidence-instilling icon like Silver Oak or Opus?
Again, I don't have the answers, but being aware of the memory gap among non-Grape Nuts is the first step. In turn, here are a few logical extensions of that basic awareness.
Simplicity can be golden. What do Silver Oak and Opus One have in common? Simplicity. Their labels have remained visually consistent for decades. And their portfolios can fit on the back of your hand; both are always and only Cabernets (or Cab blends in Opus One's case). Simplicity, focus and consistency are also hallmarks of some other name-droppable brands, e.g., Duckhorn Merlot, Kistler Chardonnay, Williams-Seylem Pinots, Santa Margherita Pinot Grigio.
Yes, I know, these wineries also make other wines. But their signature bottlings are easy to process, memory-wise. I'd say the same power of simplicity is at work in [yellow tail]'s success; the name and graphics worked together like a jingle that stuck. On the flip side, specificity complicates things. Cuvée This. Single-Vineyard That. Somebody's Special Reserve. In my experience, embellishments of specificity that upgrade the image of a wine can also handicap that wine when it comes to people remembering it.
"Sideways" revisited. What have we learned from "Sideways?" Not just that Hollywood can inspire consumer action. We can also look at it as an example of people only being able to retain limited information. Quite a few specific labels were mentioned in dialogue and even shown on screen; but the data that stuck--almost like keywords in computer parlance--were the grape (Pinot) and, to a lesser extent, the place (Santa Barbara). The primacy of the grape, in my estimation, is a prime reason why the Pinot buying trend has extended to embrace other regions, not just the terrain covered by Miles and Jack.
Similar efforts in Washington and Oregon are well advised, too; over coming years I see good prospects for "Oregon Pinot" and "Washington reds" to approach the simple, bite-size cachet of "Napa Cabernet."
Less is still more. Think back on some of the most significant hot buttons in wine buying over recent decades. Pinot Noir. Shiraz. Merlot. Chardonnay. White Zin. Reaching further back, Pouilly-Fuissé and 1982 Bordeaux. These trends were not brand-driven; rather they were types of wines that were easy to process, easy to remember and easy to recommend to friends.
And lest we overestimate how much information people can comfortably remember, I humbly submit to you the fact that California Syrah is not immediately aligned in consumers' minds with Australian Shiraz--same grape, different words. Guess what? They register as different with the vast majority of Everyone Else, no matter how often people like me point out that they are essentially equivalent. Bottom line: the Shiraz = Syrah = Rhône equation still constitutes "too much information" for most wine drinkers.
Tasting rooms are key. For every person I've met who had trouble remembering a specific wine, I've met at least as many who fondly recall a visit to a specific winery. The experience of having visited a winery and having enjoyed the wine in situ enhances the "memorability" of a brand immeasurably. In turn, anything you can do to make your tasting room and tours an experience, the better.
In the end, there is no magic glue for making your brand name stick to the roof of your target consumer's mind. But as you continue to develop marketing strategies, I can't emphasize strongly enough that the best message is always the simplest. People are absolutely looking to find wines that they can re-purchase; but do not overestimate their ability to remember your wine next time they are faced with dozens of similar beasts. The question "How can we make it easier for them?" should be a primary goal.
(For a clever solution to the consumer memory loss problem, see Larry Walker's Marketing Matters column.)
(W. R. Tish, former editor of Wine Enthusiast, now develops private, corporate and trade tastings through his Web site wineforall.com. He also publishes an e-newsletter called WineFlash. Tish's approach to gastronomy: "I drink, therefore I am. I eat, therefore I am more." Contact him through edit@winesandvines.com.)
Keep in mind that most of the people I come in contact with are at parties and events. They are guests, happy to be along for the ride, as opposed to people who pay their own way to learn more about wine. Much of my clientele is comprised of people who truly enjoy wine but will never become Grape Nuts. I like to refer to them as the Everyone Else among wine drinkers.
The most telling distinction between Grape Nuts and Everyone Else is that Grape Nuts care. When presented with a wine, Grape Nuts care about the grape(s), place, vintage, food compatibility, ageability, etc. As for Everyone Else, caring is usually limited to what is in their glass. They focus on the here and now of wine--not on anything that went into the growing or making of said wine. The fact is, whatever you tell them will probably exit their minds even before the wine they are drinking exits their bodies.
Everyone Else is simply wired differently. Wine professionals are so far removed from wine innocence that it's hard to appreciate this mindset, and I confess it took me several years of "teaching" before it finally clicked for me. But there is no escaping the reality that countless intelligent human beings, even those who call wine their favorite beverage, are uncannily unable to retain even the most basic data about wines they drink and enjoy.
It's not that they don't "get it." They understand that variables ranging from soil and technology to type of barrel and bottle age can impact wine. But information that strays too far from the glass in hand just doesn't compute. So while Grape Nuts and Everyone Else can sit and enjoy and discuss a bunch of great wines, Everyone Else has only half a mind when it comes to remembering brand names, places of origin, even grapes on the label.
Consider this e-mail I got from someone after creating a wine bar for a private dinner party in suburban New York: "The wines were delicious. When you get a chance, can you e-mail a list to me? That Champagne was awesome (something with a P), there was a Pinot that was great and something else red that was a real winner."
Never mind for a moment that she could have taken a sheet listing the wines that night (I always bring a stack; Grape Nuts are the only ones who look at it). Let's give her credit for having the wherewithall to follow up and ask what I was pouring. FYI, the P "Champagne" was a Prosecco; the Pinot was the Owen Roe 2004 Sharecropper's bottling from Oregon; and I have no idea which other red she loved…and may never know. I had eight there; all she remembered was the color.
It's not that this person didn't have a clue; she just had too few. And that's a pattern I see a lot among Everyone Else. Like an executive who receives a case of wine as a gift, drinks through it and then can only remember that it was a big red, it came from Italy and it was a 1997. Or the woman who implored me to help her figure out a wine she recently had in a restaurant. She could only remember it being presented to her as "a red wine that used to be white" (it turned out to be Zinfandel, but only Bacchus knows what brand).
Interestingly, these memory-challenged enophiles are not that far removed from Name Droppers, whom I consider a subset of Everyone Else. These people don't actually know what they are looking for in wine, but they think they do--because they are only interested in recognizable, iconic wines.
I ran into this phenomenon just the other week, as well. After I told an event planner that I was going to bring a Spanish blend and Alsace Riesling to a happy hour tasting, I was told that one of the Wall Street clients involved in the planning had asked "Where is the Silver Oak and the Opus One? And does he have any ice wine?"
Was this Wall Streeter a snob? Not at all, just someone banking on the safety and status of famous names; and these were the only ones he remembered.
The real point from these anecdotes is this: How do you try to sell wine to people who can try it in a perfect context--with great food, among friends and colleagues--but can't remember even the wines they really like? And how does a wine brand somehow make it out of that nebulous stew of "something with a P" to become a confidence-instilling icon like Silver Oak or Opus?
Again, I don't have the answers, but being aware of the memory gap among non-Grape Nuts is the first step. In turn, here are a few logical extensions of that basic awareness.
Simplicity can be golden. What do Silver Oak and Opus One have in common? Simplicity. Their labels have remained visually consistent for decades. And their portfolios can fit on the back of your hand; both are always and only Cabernets (or Cab blends in Opus One's case). Simplicity, focus and consistency are also hallmarks of some other name-droppable brands, e.g., Duckhorn Merlot, Kistler Chardonnay, Williams-Seylem Pinots, Santa Margherita Pinot Grigio.
Yes, I know, these wineries also make other wines. But their signature bottlings are easy to process, memory-wise. I'd say the same power of simplicity is at work in [yellow tail]'s success; the name and graphics worked together like a jingle that stuck. On the flip side, specificity complicates things. Cuvée This. Single-Vineyard That. Somebody's Special Reserve. In my experience, embellishments of specificity that upgrade the image of a wine can also handicap that wine when it comes to people remembering it.
"Sideways" revisited. What have we learned from "Sideways?" Not just that Hollywood can inspire consumer action. We can also look at it as an example of people only being able to retain limited information. Quite a few specific labels were mentioned in dialogue and even shown on screen; but the data that stuck--almost like keywords in computer parlance--were the grape (Pinot) and, to a lesser extent, the place (Santa Barbara). The primacy of the grape, in my estimation, is a prime reason why the Pinot buying trend has extended to embrace other regions, not just the terrain covered by Miles and Jack.
By extension, I wholly ag
ree with the recent Wine Institute report encouraging its 800-plus member wineries to convey a stronger "California message" when promoting their wares. The California umbrella is positive and powerful. Putting a sense of statewide "we" on top of the "me" (as in a specific label) benefits all California wineries in the big picture.
Similar efforts in Washington and Oregon are well advised, too; over coming years I see good prospects for "Oregon Pinot" and "Washington reds" to approach the simple, bite-size cachet of "Napa Cabernet."
Less is still more. Think back on some of the most significant hot buttons in wine buying over recent decades. Pinot Noir. Shiraz. Merlot. Chardonnay. White Zin. Reaching further back, Pouilly-Fuissé and 1982 Bordeaux. These trends were not brand-driven; rather they were types of wines that were easy to process, easy to remember and easy to recommend to friends.
And lest we overestimate how much information people can comfortably remember, I humbly submit to you the fact that California Syrah is not immediately aligned in consumers' minds with Australian Shiraz--same grape, different words. Guess what? They register as different with the vast majority of Everyone Else, no matter how often people like me point out that they are essentially equivalent. Bottom line: the Shiraz = Syrah = Rhône equation still constitutes "too much information" for most wine drinkers.
Tasting rooms are key. For every person I've met who had trouble remembering a specific wine, I've met at least as many who fondly recall a visit to a specific winery. The experience of having visited a winery and having enjoyed the wine in situ enhances the "memorability" of a brand immeasurably. In turn, anything you can do to make your tasting room and tours an experience, the better.
In the end, there is no magic glue for making your brand name stick to the roof of your target consumer's mind. But as you continue to develop marketing strategies, I can't emphasize strongly enough that the best message is always the simplest. People are absolutely looking to find wines that they can re-purchase; but do not overestimate their ability to remember your wine next time they are faced with dozens of similar beasts. The question "How can we make it easier for them?" should be a primary goal.
(For a clever solution to the consumer memory loss problem, see Larry Walker's Marketing Matters column.)
(W. R. Tish, former editor of Wine Enthusiast, now develops private, corporate and trade tastings through his Web site wineforall.com. He also publishes an e-newsletter called WineFlash. Tish's approach to gastronomy: "I drink, therefore I am. I eat, therefore I am more." Contact him through edit@winesandvines.com.)
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