• by Karl Greenberg , Staff Writer, November 17, 2015

Auto brands are hard to revive and harder to reposition in a world of upstarts. Take Tesla, an outlier: its founder is part of the Millennial success leit motif (young, digital billionaire, iconoclastic); the engineers for its sibling brand are, literally, rocket scientists; it's an upstart, which is always sexy; and it's a niche brand with a tiny lineup and little scale and volume. Downside for them: they probably lose money with each sale. 

Let's look at the legacy brands. Say, Cadillac and Lincoln. For Gen X and younger Boomers, it's a fair bet that their past follows them like tin cans behind a newlywed couple's car. And Millennials? Good bet they may know nothing about the brands, or their cars. 

Awareness is key, but where do you go from a major media buy and a brand campaign? Cadillac had, to me, its most memorable campaign back around 2001, when it spent billions to pull the brand out of the grave and create an Art and Science movement around new cars like the CTS. The ads were gut-hitting, rock ’n’ roll driven anthems to power and freedom. “Cadillac. Break through.” Great tag in my opinion, good double entendre. The ads were simple, powerful, and the message was also crystal clear. 

Then something happened. An agency change or two, a new, somewhat muddy campaign. Those hard, crystalline edges on the car got softer, more “European.” There was a new approach for the then-new ATS 3-Series/C-Class fighter with a travelogue campaign that was visually stunning and sweeping, but perhaps so much so that the candy apple red ATS got a little lost in the Atlas Mountains of North Africa. 

Of late, Cadillac is based in the ultra-hip realms of the Meat Market district, New York, and has been focusing its marketing message around the lifestyles of people who live there: artists and innovators. It’s a zeitgeist campaign, and one that is opposite in every way from the “Break Through” message of yore. Cadillac, now, is a luxury brand more than it is a luxury car brand. It is benchmarking non-auto, iconic luxury. It is comparing itself to things you buy in a boutique. 

People live three-dimensional lives, the goldfish bowl of the digital thought leadership world notwithstanding. Cadillac is a physical product that you can't order online like a scarf. People who frequent that boutique around the corner from Cadillac's new office, the place where the sales person is wearing black, and there are maybe 15 things available for purchase, are not going to drive out to see a Cadillac dealership. 

It doesn't matter how many black-and-white ads with edgy New Yorkers in the midst of a creative thrall Cadillac makes. If Cadillac wants to tout itself as an urban fashion brand, it better have stores near Saks. And it should maybe have craft beer, nitrogen-infused coffee and ramen. 

The smarter approach? Move away from Cadillac as lifestyle and talk about Cadillac’s vehicles. Especially once the brand has a compact crossover.

Lincoln is the opposite. I could not recall for you a single Lincoln ad campaign offhand in recent years, but the Matthew McConaughey work I'll remember probably until I lose my capacity to remember. But is that good? Yes, they have given awareness a big jolt. Now we're in chapter two of the campaign, with a bit more focus on vehicle features. But is it a Hail Mary pass? As with Cadillac, there has to be a next step, and that means thinking hard about what role the actor plays in it. There’s risk in it, long term. The actor effaces the car, first of all, and we have seen that. And the actor's own equity is uncertain.