Misadventures in branding: If it’s not broken, don’t fix it

Ever since Guinness became Diageo many years ago, I’ve always sniffed smoke and mirrors, and large bills, in the branding business.

It’s easy to be cynical about rebrandings, and I am. Ever since that great, venerable and eminently tasty brand Guinness became Diageo many years ago, I’ve always sniffed smoke and mirrors, and large bills, in the branding business.

Brands evolve, of course, and the trend used to be towards capital initials. The prestigious Peninsular & Oriental Steam Navigation Company became P&O (now owned by DP World) to reflect post-imperialist reality in the UK.

This is largely acceptable. General Motors is known universally as GM; nobody would think of referring in speech or writing to the British Broadcasting Corporation; International Business Machines sounds archaic in the fast-moving world of computers.

In the Middle East, it's also acceptable I think to Arabicise a name. So Ooredoo, which used to be the phone company QTel in Qatar, looks bizarre to an English eye, but makes perfect sense as the Arabic for "I want"; Abu Dhabi's dull General Holding Corporation exudes new wisdom under its new name Senaat (plain old "industry" in Arabic.)

In general, Arabic names lend an air of authenticity and locality that must be valuable when doing business with global partners, who tend to be anglophone.

But on most other occasions, I’m against rebranding, especially in the digital age. The corporate world went bonkers then. Lower case letters kept occurring in places where they shouldn’t – think du or PwC – and for a while every company name had to begin with an “i” or an “e”.

If you work on the principle “if it isn’t broken, don’t fix it”, rebranding implies there was something wrong before that only a new name could mend. It is almost the corporate equivalent of a fugitive on the run getting a false passport.

What got me thinking about all this was the news just a couple of days ago that College Group, a global public relations agency with big ambitions, had rebranded itself to “Instinctif”.

I can see why it might have wanted to change. In America and much of the rest of the world, the old name would have had unwanted educational connotations.

But “Instinctif”? How does that promote its global image?

I think PR agencies charge the big bucks not for their “instinct”, but for their considered expertise and wise counsel. Wrong message.

And the “-if”? It lends a certain Gallic sophistication, I admit, like aperitif or digestif, but it’s just a bit too … iffy.

I know well the executives who run Instinctif, in London and in the region. Good people, and I wish them well. But really.

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Much as I like Jumeirah hotels, I don't like what they've done to the Dhow & Anchor, the Jumeirah Beach venue.

The Dhow was universally known and loved by generations of locals and expats, who mingled there to watch football matches late into the night. It was as close as you could get to an old--fashioned British pub this side of Bermondsey.

Smoking must have been banned in the old Dhow many years ago, but it retained the distinctive brown-stained ceiling of a previous mores. Unique, outside Deira or Bur Dubai.

Now the Dhow, after a six-month renovation, is all pine, stainless steel and glass – totally bereft of character.

Two things haven’t changed, however. The clientele is still largely the same, notably that archetypal expat with big belly and ruddy face who has been there every single night I’ve ever attended.

And the outside terrace is largely untouched, with its views of the Burj Al Arab and the Gulf. Sitting there, you might even imagine you were in the old Dhow.