Barbara Lippert's Critique: Gnome Sweet Gnome

Sure, I recall the pointy hat, the beard, the whistley English accent and the tendency to talk about his "whoopsidaisy.'' But I'll confess: I never really paid close attention to the Travelocity gnome. Certainly, from the get-go, he attracted a huge following on the net made up of people taken by the whole gnome-napping idea. But to me, he was just one more plasticized face in the advertising crowd; somewhat less creepy than the BK King, but still, no Buddy Lee. I never really cared until last week, when it became clear that the seemingly annoying little fellow I took for granted for so long (two years) had gotten away and was (gasp!) being replaced.So who's sorry now? Like Gulliver in the land of Lilliput (how's that for a size and travel metaphor rolled into one?), his substitute is bizarrely large—a chubby, schlubby, hairy, living, breathing man. (With black glasses! Wearing shorts!) Try lugging him around to photograph against a Nordic background on your next vacation. Not cute. But let me backtrack: The whole disappearance-and-mystery–replacement-caper started with a typical Travelocity spot. Open on an antique-ish stage with an elaborate blue curtain, a painted enchanted-forest backdrop, footlights and our little Mr. Gnome, front and center, emoting fiercely. (The fact that the creators at McKinney never made any attempt to have the garden sprite's mouth move as he spoke is hysterical.)He appears as the "denouncer of travel myths.'' Myth No. 1: All travel sites are the same. This is clearly untrue, as "only Travelocity guarantees the whole shebang,'' he says (in an accent tailor-made for enunciating slightly embarrassing words like "shebang''). Thus, you "never roam alone.'' The scene changes to a beach and we get myth No. 2: "Things disappear in the Bermuda Triangle.'' With that, our red-hatted totem disappears in mid-denunciation. About two weeks after that spot started airing, "with no warning,'' as the Web site states, a replacement commercial aired. All was the same, except in place of the gnome we get a big dweeb sitting on stage, folding his body around to somehow balance on a rock. He, too, later disappears beach-side.The joke is that we're not supposed to notice the temporary replacement. (The only difference is the lack of plaster, the addition of about 250 pounds and a beating heart. Also, this guy is a lot less jolly and seems to subscribe to a no-beard, no-belt-over-the-belly policy. On his giant head, the red hat looks more like a cross between a fez and a dunce cap.)The mystery comes to life at www.gnomewatch.com, a Yahoo 360 Web page (the first commercial page on the site) that also allows the gnome-watching community to upload video, photos and other content three times a week, so that posters are really driving the content. Those deeply committed to gnome rescue can also IM Mary O'Hara, the "investigative TV reporter'' looking into the issue (and dumpsters, apparently) to track down our guy. (In a video, she's shown walking along railroad tracks in Poughkeepsie, following a tip.) I'm not so into the fake investigative-reporter device—it's way overplayed in ads—but it makes sense here. And she's also anchoring a video that includes some comedy gold—side-by-side comparisons of the gnome and the gnome impostor in full, head-to-toe twirling glory, a la Biggest Loser and Extreme Makeover.From the start, the whole kidnap-and-rescue-a-garden-gnome concept was criticized as derivative and too European for our delicate, pink flamingo-favoring American sensibilities. (There's a whole gnome liberation group in France, and photographing a gnome in different tourist spots was part of the plot of the movie Amelie.)But there is genius—and a genuine marketing connection—in applying the roaming gnome idea to a travel site. And even though we don't even use the word "garden" for front or backyards, as the Brits do, Americans still warm to him. Regardless, a novelty gnome was produced as a promo item for the campaign and the brand. It has proven so popular that gnome sales have become a new profit center for Travelocity. Given two years of increased sales, it's smart to make the guy disappear for a while. It's a way to refresh the campaign—and engage a whole new audience. (There have also been funny stunts along the way. The gnome took pride of place, for instance, at this year's Halloween parade in New York City's Greenwich Village. He stood in a throne-like sedan chair and was carried by four bare-chested men.)All in all, McKinney has created exactly the kind of integrated, multi-media campaign that all modern brands should strive for. It's a great example of "participatory advertising" that creates a community, a conversation and, as they say, an experience. As for whether the gnome disappeared on his own and if he'll return, I have no idea—but I think there's some sort of conspiracy theory involving that shifty Kool-Aid pitcher.

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Barbara Lippert's Critique: Gnome Sweet Gnome

Barbara Lippert

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Barbara Lippert