Taschen – more than just big breasts

The apocalypse is over and I know that for sure because my virtual letterbox is under constant attack from ubiquitous commercial email, full of the warming glow of special offers (right-click here to download pictures) and the seasonal pitter-patter of tiny coins. Yes it’s Christmas but a super slick, gym-buffed new version, all pared down and trim, coming to an Inbox near you very, very soon.

I’ve been vaguely aware of the scourge of solicited email (do we call it spam or DM?) but never so much as now in a crash-conscious, recession friendly, sustainable world where everyone wants to sell you stuff you really want. And they know you really want it because you’ve told them all about yourself in a form you’ve filled in that had something called ‘Ts and Cs’ you had to tick and what a kafuffle but hey, at least you know the stuff they’re sending you is truly targeted and useful. And because real spam is nasty, unsolicited junk mail, this altogether kinder form of registered, self-censured mail is more like ‘luvverly spam, wonderful spam’; it knows who you are and what you want.

The days of wasteful print and all those dreadful little brochures or catalogues is consigned now to the dustbin of history and replaced with a certain knowledge that you live in a house with a garden in a county, in a suburb and you have two kids and a car and a garage and are still under 35 and once bought a Will Smith DVD and a travel guide to Goa. All of which means that you really must want, no, absolutely be gagging for, the Hosebuddy Ultra 99: 27809 Spray Gun with two-stage locking trigger and six individual spray patterns.

It is amazing how quickly we become adjusted to this new world, how sensible it seems, how easily we can highlight and delete myriad useful and carefully targeted mails without even opening them. And it’s against this backcloth that the most extraordinary thing happened to me the other day. A package arrived on my desk marked clearly for me and containing the most sumptuous, delightful, exciting and rude catalogue that I’d ever been sent in my entire life.

Measuring in at an extraordinary 37 x 27cm with over 250 masterfully edited and designed pages, my only qualification for receiving this exquisite tome was the fact that I’d spent some money with Taschen during 2009.

Taschen, for the uninitiated is the German publisher of beautiful (and yes often sexy) books. Everything it does, it does with a simple and trademark panache that marks it out in the crowd of coffin chasers that pass for commercial enterprises these days. Above all, it knows its customers and understands that by spending a (must be close to) tenner per head thanking them for their custom and reminding them with a sweeping statement of intent just how great their products are, the likelihood is that those same customers will reciprocate by spending at least that much in return. In my case, Berlin – a photographic journey by Hans Christian Adam, 672 pages priced £42.99 – was Taschen’s almost instant reward. But the promotion has done more than just pay for itself literally because of course I am proud to be a recipient of such largesse, I leave my catalogue on my office table and boast to passers by, people pick it up in wonder and express bemusement that a thing of such quality and beauty could ever be sent free of charge, I’ve even caught somebody walking away with it to ‘check a few things out’. This is called ‘advocacy’; I’ve become a brand champion and an advocate for Taschen books and I’m so excited I’m even dedicating a whole blog to the subject. And I know any marketers out there will be smiling at my doe-eyed innocence about such matters but the notion that a company can do something that makes a cynical old bugger like me unashamedly glow is a surprising rarity in an age of online, up-close and personal gonk waggling. So well done Taschen for another stunning piece of market nous and yes I did once buy the Big Book of Breasts….for a friend.

PS: If you haven’t seen it yet, check out the Sun ad from Glue London. Three million copies a day, disposable, portable and fully paid-for. It’s an interesting business model.