Originally from Fargo, ND I can’t call myself a city slicker, but I sure felt like one this weekend when I attended the Medora Musical in Medora, North Dakota. As I perused the shops of homemade taffy, embroidered horse sweat suits and Native American themed dream catchers, I couldn’t help but ask myself who would buy such novelties. I’m sure all of us have been to a tourist trap. I’m not saying Medora is a tourist trap, the meals were great and the show was entertaining. But, I never stopped to wonder why I actually purchased jalapeno pickled baby corn. Frankly, I’m not sure I could’ve explained why anyone would buy the wares in those specialty shops. As I meandered from store to store, I started to think more about how anyone could sell this specialty junk (it’s junk to me, sorry if I offended any cowboys out there).

How do we sell things we don’t use, like or understand? The easy answer is the sleezy answer. Just sell it LIKE you love it and want it. Call me a purist, but I think there are ways of marketing that don’t involve stooping to a used car salesman’s level even though I look real good in polyester.

Luke Sullivan, an industry leader whose book, Hey Whipple, Squeeze This, really spoke to me. In it he talks in great length about seizing any opportunity to tour a plant or submerge in the process of developing the items you are forced to sell. I saw how taffy was made. I saw how dream catcher’s were hand made. Embroidered horses?

Believe me, I tried.

I spent twenty minutes sizing up the embroidering machine operator who was piecing together a lovely loon suit. Even then I couldn’t figure out the purpose of making such a gaudy outfit. As I walked away from his station dodging thread like he did the draft (honestly, the man was making rustic wares buy drove to work in a VW bug), I overheard a conversation. Two women were talking about their love horses, and how the picture of the horse on the sweat suit reminded her of one of her first horses. It dawned on me then. Though ranching might not be my life, it’s THEIR life. When I left the shop, swelling with pride over my most recent marketing discovery, a old western tune played on the radio. A crooner spoke of the quiet hills and beautiful terrain and how he loved to be a cowboy. I may be a “city” kid, but that song and aqua pant suit made me rethink my sense of value and utility. That tourist trap immersed me in the psychographics of an otherwise foreign target.

If you can’t tour the factory, find yourself in the target. If you can’t do that, listen. It’s so simple. Listen. Notice THEIR world around you. If a project doesn’t have real value, it has magic. Our job is to make it have both. The more we can listen as advertising professionals, the more we can eliminate the cheesy, lifeless selling. We can give our audience what they want only by showing them the real reason why they want it.