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Tobacco peddlers ran into trouble recently with their
latest plans for market segmentation.
Many American industries use this approach, because they sell things that are so similar that the only way to convince people that brands make a difference is to devise distinct images.
Any car will get you from here to there, but there are BMW people and there are Ford station wagon people; any beer will do what beer does, but millions of dollars are spent every year to convince you that Silver Bullet folks are more fun than Miller Lite guys, and vice versa.
So there was the Uptown
cigarette, targeted for
urban blacks, and the Dakota,
aimed at young rural
women. Both caused a storm of controversy, which tobacco
companies might avoid if they produced some useful new
brands:
Scrounge, for people who'd like to quit, or at least cut down. If you've been there, you understand what it's like to rummage through ashtrays, examine gutters, etc., all in the hope of finding a long, solid butt.
Now you can buy butts by the pack. Not only will they taste wretched, thus improving your health by reducing your smoking, but you'll be helping the poor. How? Destitute people have been surviving by finding and selling aluminum cans. Now they can also collect butts and sell them at Scrounge redemption centers.
Mooch, the brand you need if you still smoke and you're around people who say they're trying to quit -- which really means they haven't quit smoking cigarettes; they've just quit buying cigarettes.
A pack of Mooch comes already rumpled and
contains but one dried-out unfiltered Chesterfield. When
approached by someone bumming a smoke, you pull out your
Mooch pack. The freeloader examines it dubiously, announces
I can't take your last cigarette,
and moves on, thus
improving your life.
Sneak, the tiny high-tech cigarette that fits in the palm of your hand. Stuck in smoke-free environment when every nerve cell in your system is screaming for a dose of nicotine? Visiting some people who would notice even if you took a quick puff in the bathroom?
Just lift your hand to your mouth and push the tiny click-button on your Sneak. A microprocessor-controlled igniter sends precisely enough to settle your nerves, while releasing no other offensive fumes.
Smug, the non-cigarette. Has it been a while since anyone noticed that you boycott tuna, avoid red meat, wear no furs, carry a Gold Card, sport designer sunglasses, and subscribe to the New Yorker? The subtle but effective image on the $400 Smug pack in your shirt works better than an alligator or a monogram to convey the discreet but unmistakable statement that you are superior.
After all, if the tobacco industry was able to profit for a century by giving a filthy habit a suave image, then the industry ought to be able to profit from changing times by charging a handsome fee for presenting the image that everybody wants to make these days.
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