Warning: this is a relatively long, rambling post because I’m thinking out loud.

What makes something authentic?  When are things not fake?  Can something be designed to be authentic, or does the act of considering authenticity at a conscious level doom something to the land of the artificial?  I’ve been swishing these questions around for a while.  I’m not sure yet.  I’m sounding out things here in the sandbox of this blog. Help me out if you care to.

When I write about the visceral aspects of stuff, I like to focus on cars, because the experience we all share in common of them which makes the conversation easier.  For similar reasons, when it comes to discussing authenticity and design, I find that food makes for the best subject.  Think about it: when was the last time you heard the word "authentic" being used to describe anything other than food?  I’m sure you have but food seems to live near the center of the authenticity universe.  As an example, Russell Davies just wrote a great book all about authentic eggs-and-bacon dining experiences.  If  car-based sensations of speed and acceleration inform our understanding of the design of visceral experiences, then concepts like terroir and appellation from the world of food should be a way to gain a deeper understanding of authenticity.

Enough philosophizing.  Let’s eat.

I recently had a pizza at a restaurant by the name of Two Amys.  It was very, very good:

I’ve never been to Naples.  But when I look at the picture above, I can taste the lactic whisper of the mozzarella and I’m reminded that this bubbly dish was one of the best pizzas I’ve ever eaten.  Tasty?  For sure.  Authentic?  I believe so — but can I really know without having been to the source? 

Peruse the menu between bites.  Ho ho ho, what’s this?

The Two Amys chooses to spend some very precious menu space to explain how their fare meets the standards set out by an independent pizza standards group called Verace Pizza Napoletana.  The standards are precise and fairly strict.  From the Verace Pizza Napoletana website:

Basic 
Requirements

1. A wood-burning oven: The pizza must be cooked by wood.  Gas, coal or electric ovens, while they may produce delicious pizza, do not conform to the tradition.

2. Proper ingredients: 00 flour, San Marzano (plum) tomatoes, all natural fior-di-latte or bufala mozzarella, fresh basil, salt and yeast. Only fresh, all-natural, non-processed ingredients are acceptable.

3. Proper technique: Hand-worked or low speed mixed dough, proper work surface (usually a marble slab), oven temp (800°F), pizza preparation, etc.

4. Review by the designated representative of the association assuring that the ingredients, technique and final product conform to the tradition.

5. Each individual restaurant is bound to uphold the standards of the association. Moreover, each individual restaurant is bound to pay a membership and membership renewal fee. Hence, membership fees do not apply to any new units opened subsequent to joining VPN, nor is membership transferable from one location to another. Rather,
   each individual location is evaluated and billed separately. In the event of non-compliance by one or more of my restaurants, the VPN association maintains the right to suspend or rescind membership on an individual or collective basis.

This is a clever device, this appeal to an external maven of authenticity.  Putting it on the menu validates what my taste buds were telling me, and it’s a powerful story which places a halo of authenticity around the entire Two Amys brand.  It tells me that this pizza is the Real Deal.  It’s authentic so long as a believe that the VPN is authentic and real.  Is it?  I hope so.

Halos of authenticity are, I think, a useful way to help meaning and value become associated with a brand.  For example, when Subaru rallies its cars, it’s hoping that success there will put a halo of racing toughness and speed over their brand.   And so on and so forth.  What do you think?

You can find a live broadcast of my AlwaysOn keynote here live at 8 AM PST, Wednesday July 26.

Bob Sutton and I are going to talk about Tales from a Double-Wide Trailer, which is a story about the lessons we learned from teaching our Creating Infectious Action class at the Stanford d.school.  Then we’ll have a group discussion about stoking contagious behavior with:

• Mitchell Baker, CEO of Mozilla.org
• Perry Klebahn, founder of Atlas Snow Shoes
• Gil Penchino, CEO of Wikia

If you’re online while we’re onstage, please please submit a question for the panel discussion, and we’ll try to make it part of the discussion.

The organizers of the conference have put in place two interesting innovations.  First, the bloggers are sitting in the front row at a table reminiscent of something out of a McMenamin’s brew pub movie theater, instead of in their customary back-of-the-auditorium position.  Second, there’s a rolling screen of comments from people online.  So far some have been funny, some rude, some trenchant, some insightful.  Interesting stuff.

As a rule, I don’t write much on metacool about my work at IDEO.  It’s less that 120% of my IDEO stuff is swarming-ninjas-will-be-sent-out-to-slay-me-in-the-silence-of-the-moon confidential (which it is), and more that this blog is my personal sandbox.  It’s about everything I do at work, but it’s not about my work.  But today I make an exception, because I reckon the story is pretty cool.

Context: Parking in Palo Alto, where I work, is tough.  Not as tough as, say, downtown Tokyo, but certainly on that end of the bell curve.  The Palo Alto Police ticket mercilessly.  Even though I’m extremely careful, I’ve been known a ticket or two.  Come to think of it, given the taxes I kindly fork over each year, I should be gifted a diamond-encrusted personal parking spot by my local elected officials.  As well as a gold-leaf wrapped box of Macanudos.  Monthly, via FedEx.  But I digress.

Blogger and IDEO client Robert Davis tells a delightful story about the frustrating experience of parking solo near our Palo Alto headquarters, and then about the delightful experience of parking with the aid of the IDEO Experience Team.  Listen to my favorite bit of his post:

Here’s what: service is sometimes about giving the user the tools to
manage the situation themselves; sometimes it’s about making the
problem just go away. IDEO has figured out that when you’re bringing
people in to do creative thinking about a business problem, you’re
better off making their petty problems, like parking, just go away.

I won’t even pretend to be able to say it better.  Thanks, Robert!

I’ll be giving a keynote speech and moderating a panel on July 26 at the AlwaysOn Innovation Summit @ Stanford.  My partner in crime at the event will be Bob Sutton. 

Bob and I will be discussing the topic "What is the Secret Behind Creating Infectious Behavior?"  We just finished teaching a related class called Creating Infectious Acton.

So, if you plan on being there, drop me a line beforehand or just say hello once we’re there.  I look forward to meeting you.

I said it once, I’ll say it again: Nano is the New Turbo

Wired, in a weirdly recursive way, agrees.

You heard it here first.

That’s marketing.

Thank you.

This past weekend a brand came alive.  The brand had already existed, and oodles of money had been spent to build it, but it wasn’t a living, breathing thing yet.  In other words, it was still a brand built by marketers, not a brand felt and understood by people out in the world.

The brand I’m talking about in particular is Audi’s TDI, which represents the state of the art in diesel-based internal conbustion.  In the guise of Audi’s wicked new R10 race car, TDI not only won the 24 Hours of Le Mans (possibly the toughest race in the world), but also broke all the records, going farther than any car had gone before, while getting better gas mileage to boot.

Last week TDI was something which a person with a technical background like me would have explained to you in terms of technology (high-pressure fuel injection, clever turbos) and/or performance metrics, such as torque and consumption.  And I might have convinced you.  But could you have told a friend?  Would you have remembered the critical bits?  Would it all have meant something?

Now all I have to say is "TDI won Le Mans".  TDI is now a real story, and a romantic one at that, and from now on diesel isn’t the smelly, smokey old Mercedes station wagon blocking the left lane but a speeding silver arrow whispering down the Mulsanne.  TDI.  Your brand is what you do in the world, not what you say you do.

"Strange but true: The more specific a film is, the more universal,
because the more it understands individual characters, the more it
applies to everyone."
– Roger Ebert

In this insightful column, my colleague Paul Bennett says some "mean things" about branding but then goes on to make some really important (and honest) points about how the creation of meaning can and should be done within the world of marketing. 

As Paul says, "Marketing and branding need to get back to first principles — people, feelings, stories, and things. Tangible things. Not weird words."

Please read it all here:  Time for some Buzz-Kill

A podcast of the Creating Infectious Action Miniconference is now available here.

It’s listed under the 5/11 class date.