My third cousin, Jerry, was one of the more colorful characters of my youth. He was loud, drunken and unapologetically vulgar. And each day, he careened up and down the curling roads of Rockhouse Creek in an old pickup with a toolbox full of Pabst Blue Ribbon.

For many years, I avoided Pabst, associating it with images of my distant cousin’s family-reunion tantrums or his violent, uncomfortable outbursts at other family gatherings.

Nowadays, however, I purchase and consume PBR with unabashed vigor, my perception of the brand no longer suffering from the memories of cousin Jerry’s hijinks. So, what changed my mind about PBR?

It all started in 2003. Vacation: New York City.

My beautiful girlfriend (now wife) and I were poking around the Big Apple when we found a little dive called Arlene’s Grocery. We went inside and found a tavern packed with goths, in front of each — a PBR Tall Boy.

The scene stood in refreshing contrast to those of my youth, and the ensuing night of sharing PBRs with tourist-friendly goth-folk went a long way in warming me up to the brand.

The goths didn’t see PBR the way I did. To them, it wasn’t Cousin Jerry’s Yellin’ Juice®, it was the underdog. The anti-establishment beer. The ironic flagship of American B-List brews.

Since then, many more beer buyers have adopted that view, driving a resurgence of the brand which, having suffered a 90% decline in sales from its peak in 1977 to 2001, has been enjoying steady growth. As a matter of fact, PBR experienced a 25% sales increase from 2008 to 2009 alone.

I’m sure if ole cousin Jerry knew his brew of choice had developed such a following among hip, urban sophisticates, he’d curse out his grandmother.

Oh wait. He did that.

Gibson, Fender & the Illogic of Brand Loyalty

I used to sell musical instruments for a living. Flutes, violins, accordions — you name it, I sold it. It was a fun gig at first, but it was retail and, well, my enthusiasm eventually succumbed to the daily routine of soul-crushing banality. The job did, however, prove a good learning experience. Namely, it provided a firsthand look into how brand loyalty plays out on the sales floor. And when it comes to musical instruments, in no category will you find fiercer brand loyalists than in electric guitars:

“Got any Gibsons er Fenders?”

“No, sorry. We don’t carry those brands.”

“Well you’d sell a lot more if ya did! Tham guitars is the best!”

It happened every week. Some longhaired know-it-all in a sweat-stained trucker cap would peek his head in, quickly scan the guitar section and then chide me upon discovering that we didn’t carry Gibson or Fender. Sure, we had guitars. We had plenty. But our guitars didn’t have the right name on the headstock, and often, it was a deal breaker.

So many times I wanted to say, “Wake up, Jimmy Bob! It’s not what you play, it’s how you play it! Our guitars are just as good!” But it was a lost cause.

The loyalists could not be reasoned with.

It didn’t matter that our guitars were, in every demonstrable way, made as well as comparable models from the behemoth brands. It didn’t matter that, in many cases they were produced at the very same overseas factories by the same computer-controlled machines. Sometimes our guitars even had the exact pickups and hardware used by the big brands. Still it didn’t matter.

For the loyalists, it was never about the product. It was always about the brand.

A strong brand turns an equal product into a superior product. It makes cola taste better. It makes toothpaste more effective. It makes the diamonds sparkle more brilliantly. It makes vacuum cleaners suck harder. And it even makes guitars sound better.

Logic need not apply (LINK: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g7-5io1muSQ).

Most folks would agree that it’s natural to believe that more expensive products are superior to their lesser expensive counterparts. I’m certainly guilty of it. After all, if a product costs more, it must be because it’s made better, will last longer — or in the case of wine — because it tastes better, right?

In 2008 the California Institute of Technology and Stanford University wanted to get a better idea of the relationship that price has to consumer perception, so they conducted a study comparing expensive wines versus cheaper wines.

The study required lucky student volunteers to compare wine samples priced at $10, $35, $45 and $90 a bottle. The wines were served in pairs ($10 vs. $90 and $35 vs. $45), and the subjects were asked to compare and rank each. But here’s where things get all science-y — as the subjects tasted each wine, their brains were scanned with an MRI machine that was specifically measuring activity in their frontal cortexes, or pleasure centers.

What they found was pretty remarkable.

When the students were told the prices of the wines before tasting them, they reliably graded pricier wines better than cheaper ones. Sure enough, the MRI revealed more brain activity in the subjects’ pleasure centers when sampling the more expensive wines. But here’s the twist.

The samples were actually the same wine.

Eight weeks later, the students were brought back to taste the wines once more, this time without price cues. Predictably, with no price information on which to base their beliefs, the group showed no definitive preference for any of the samples.

In addition to just being a neat story, the wine study clearly illustrates that price points have tremendous power on influencing consumer perception. And though similar arguments have been made about product packaging and other superficial factors, the study reveals an interesting phenomenon that raises the question: Why don’t all brands just inflate their prices to enhance the perceived quality of their products?

Because effectively wielding the Pricebo Effect, as I’ve cornily coined it, is tricky: McDonald’s can’t get away with selling $15 hamburgers; Wal-Mart can’t get away with selling $10,000 earrings; and if Miller High Life cost $8 a bottle, I wouldn’t be downing a 12-pack each night. (Conversely, boutique brands like Mercedes-Benz can’t sell $15,000 sedans, and Rolex can’t hawk $50 watches.)

The bottom line? Higher price points have the power to increase consumers’ perceptions about product quality, but ONLY if it’s right for the product and right for the brand.

The MRI wine study provides some captivating insights into how consumers equate price with quality — even at the brain-chemistry level. And it proves that brands can strategically use higher price points to increase consumer favorability — but only if the price is right.

So what gives? Does this ring true for you? Have you ever been seduced by a high price point? Do tell.

I recently came across a story about an eccentric Canadian man named Harold Hackett who, since 1996, has been throwing message-stuffed bottles into the Atlantic Ocean. The neon-colored juice bottles each contain Harold’s address, a handwritten note and a request that anyone who finds a bottle responds with their own handwritten note.

Harold has so far sent nearly 4,800 bottles out to sea, but what makes the story so astonishing is that he’s received over 3,100 replies from bottle finders ranging from Africa to Ireland. And each has replied — just like Harold asks — with a handwritten note.

Sure, Harold is felonious polluter, but with his 63% response rate, I couldn’t help but wonder, is there is a marketing lesson to be learned here? Then it occurred to me: A great ad is a lot like one of Harold’s bottles. Adrift in a vast ocean of sameness, it sticks out; it floats to the top; it inspires consumers (or in Harold’s case, beachgoers) to investigate, engage and respond.

Sounds easy enough, but the challenge lies in making one’s advertising feel like a message in a bottle. But how does one do that, aside from actually bottling it and tossing it into the Pond?

I believe that Harold’s story shows that connecting with an audience while floating in vast sea of banality requires three ingredients: surprise, mystery and sincerity. To explain, I’ve outlined what I’m officially deeming the Unauthorized Harold Hackett Guide to Direct-Response Marketing (UHHGDRM). Have a look.

Rule #1. Surprise the consumer with the delivery.

This doesn’t necessarily mean a fancy package (or bottle). It could be as simple as a great visual or a clever headline (or both). But whatever it is, it must get the consumer’s attention.

Rule #2. Stoke curiosity.

Like Sarah McLachlan, one must build a mystery to arouse the consumer’s curiosity. It needn’t be heavy or convoluted, just something intriguing enough to get the lid off the bottle.

Rule #3. Deliver the message with sincerity.

This is absolutely vital. Once the consumer has the message in their hands, it’s game time, and an honest, candid tone always scores more points than trite, salesy crap.

And there you have it. Sort of.

While I admit the UHHGDRM is a bit vague and underdeveloped, it’s meant to be more of a compass than a roadmap. Just a basic set of guidelines by which to judge an advert before casting it into the sea. And though the formula isn’t perfect, surely it has some merit, right? Eh? You there?

Regardless, I think Harold Hackett’s story sends an S.O.S. to the ad world, proving that everyone loves a surprise, a mystery and a sincere appeal. When we marketing professionals include these elements into every breath we take and every ad we make, only then will we walk in fields of gold.