It’s The Meaning, Not The Mascot

We all know what a mascot is. Tony The Tiger, Ronald McDonald, and that adorable little Geico gecko need no introduction. 

We could go all fancy-pants and start talking about them being “anthropomorphic metaphors of brand values” or what have you, but do we really need to? You know what they’re for. 

They call them “critters” in advertising. Or at least that’s what Leo Burnett, the guy behind the great Kellogg’s mascots and the Marlboro Man called them. 

In general, they work very well. Except when they don’t. They’re also very boring, cliche, and ineffective. Except when they aren’t. 

But that’s true with anything cultural. Popular songs are called “hits” because they were either going to be a “hit or miss.” The masses might like the song, they might not. Nobody knows in advance. All you can do is put it out into the world and see what happens. Sure, there’s a certain science to it, but as we all know, it really is an art. And when you make art into a science, you’re really just making art using a formula, which defeats the whole purpose of making art, right?

The big mistake people make when designing critters is they think it’s just about making a cute, likeable character. We own a chain of hamburger joints. Ok, let’s hire a cartoonist to draw us an anthropomorphic hamburger with a big, goofy smile. 

In other words, they make the critter product-focused. They make it all about them. But what matters isn’t the product. Everybody’s got those. 

Phillip Morris’ “Marlboro Man” was the most successful mascot of the Twentieth Century. He didn’t sell cigarettes. He sold “Marlboro Country.” The silent, stoic, individualist mindset the evil geniuses at Phillip Morris wanted you to associate with Malboros. 

Other critters get their meaning organically. UT alumni love Bevo the Longhorn Bull not because there’s something innately special about bulls, but because it reminds them of their college days. 

Mascots don’t always come out of the design studio chock full of meaning. The meaning is more cumulative than inherent; it gathers weight through every moment that happens around it. 

It’s never been about the mascot; it’s the meaning attached to it. 

So before you pick up that phone to call that illustrator to draw you a critter, understand first the actual meaning that informs it: What idea are we trying to transmit? What do we want people to feel when they meet our critter? Does it matter? Do we matter?

Learn how to matter. The mascot will take care of itself.