Making Memories with Matt Lurcock
When I was a child, most kids my age dreamt of being David Beckham. They knew every word from The Fresh Prince of Bel Air, collected toys from crisp packets (can you imagine?), and every September — back from the summer holidays — one kid with rich parents would have been lucky enough to go to DisneyLand and hug Goofy.
Not me. I grew up on 1960s war films like The Battle of Britain and Where Eagles Dare. I couldn’t tell you what number Michael Owen had on his back, but I could certainly tell you the difference between a Messerschmitt 109 and 110. I was 7 years old and although I had missed the war by some 50 years, the only thing I ever wanted to be was a Spitfire Pilot. That love affair with the Spitfire has stuck with me ever since. And although my career would in fact lead me to design, a love of the Spitfire’s distinct and unmistakable form and the mythology woven around it has long endured.
For some 30 years, I only ever imagined what it must be like to fly one. That is until last year when, as a wedding present from my wife, I unexpectedly found myself strapped into its cockpit over my home county of Kent — an experience that will stay with me forever. The smell of metal and oil, the vibrations of 2000+ horsepower of Merlin engine, the way it seemed to glisten under cotton wool clouds in a September sun as we flew over southern England’s patchwork fields and white chalky cliffs — this was more than just some flight in a plane. It roused in me every memory I had ever associated with the Spitfire since I was a child: its beautiful, streamlined shape (if you can call a machine beautiful!), the iconic silhouette of its elliptical wing replete with red and blue RAF roundels, and black and white Overlord stripes. The sound, — that glorious sound — that still has me running out the house like a child to search the skies. But what I realise now is that this wasn’t just a physical experience of sight and sound. It was one that stirred in me a hugely emotional experience as well — one that drew upon a lifetime of association enchanted by films, books, television, airshows — all swirling magical meaning around the Spitfire far beyond its metal and rivets.
As I reflect on this experience, I can’t help but see the parallel between how we approach brand design and how I think of the Spitfire. Great brands understand the value of distinction — of looking like nothing else. Whether that be through a logo, colour palette, illustration style, etc. they have the ingredients that cognitively appeal to the way our brain favours shapes, symbols, and colours above all else for recall. Hence why when glimpsing gold arches on red, I know I’m looking at McDonald's. A smile on a brown box is Amazon. Or when barely visible in the distance an elliptical wing can only be a Spitfire! Distinction sticks in the mind
But distinction is only half the battle. Yes, it turns heads. It is the anchor to which a brand is tethered and visually offers something easy to find when scanning the world around us. But a brand must be thought of first in a buying situation. It lives or dies on its ability to be remembered and there’s huge power in that. Consider how when writing a shopping list, you mostly write things, not brands: butter, toilet roll, shampoo. And yet we walk into stores with tens of thousands of products and find almost immediately what we’re looking for. If I think of a fizzy drink, I picture Coke. If I think of oat milk, I picture Oatly. Jeans – Levi, and so on. The reason for this is because these brands have risen above the product and become things of memory — memories that are quick to come to mind. It’s the same reason why a Spitfire will always be the first plane pushing itself to the front of my brain.
Memories are of course powerful things, and we know emotion is key to making them. The childhood air shows, the Airfix models, watching old VHS movies, reading stories…all of these are visceral memories that have stayed with me as no doubt a football team, song or first car might for someone else. These are the things we find ourselves subconsciously tied to and simply bringing them to mind sparks a constellation of memories that enrich the object far beyond the physicality of what it is. As they say, “Neurons that fire together wire together”.
Brands are no different. They are a soup of different memories and experiences all mixed up: sights, sounds, physical touch, storytelling. And all these things shape what we believe a brand to be in our minds. The trick, of course, is to keep showing up distinctly like the brand in people’s heads, so all experiences become ‘filed’ under the brand. Coke for example is a brand memory of everything I think Coke is about: red and white, summer, treats as a kid, Christmas (it doesn’t start till the ‘Holidays are Coming’ ad!). Great, entertaining design — that’s always looked like Coke…has over years of exposure lifted the brand above just being a fizzy drink and turned it into a memory — a memory of joy. And who doesn’t want to buy joy?!
So, as we look to grow our client’s brands, it’s not just about pursuing a great brandmark, visually distinct pack or experience for social media. It’s about equipping brands with the distinct ingredients they need to be able to tell great stories — stories that entertain, that come to mind quickly and become things of memory that play out across all media. Because great brands are brands that play out in memory as much as they do in real life — just like the Spitfire does in mine.
