Gaynelle Grover
Twenty years ago I probably thought of branding as something ranchers did to cattle. So I certainly didn’t start out to be a branding strategist.
I started out studying fine arts and dramatic arts at Amherst–a small liberal arts college located in central Massachusetts. My first year at Amherst was also the first year the school, until then all-male, went co-ed. There were about 100 women admitted that inaugural year (out of a student population of 1300) and seemingly hundreds of alumni ready to share with us how disappointed they were that we had been let into the “boys club.” Made for a pretty unique and interesting experience.
After college, most of my classmates headed off to law school or med school; I went to work in professional theater. Although I studied lighting design in school, I landed a job in the costume shop, washing, ironing, sewing, and drafting. A perfect first job for picking up some handy life skills.
Four years and hundreds of costumes later, I pulled up stakes and headed out West–arriving in Berkeley, California in the summer of ‘81. Somewhere along the way, I streaked my hair turquoise and decided to switch careers. I took a job as a paste-up artist at a small publishing house. The art director interviewing me asked if I “liked type”; I thought he was asking if I knew how to type. I answered yes and got the job, only to find out later he was talking about typefaces. Honestly, I never paid attention to typography before that job; afterwards, it was hard to read a word without first seeing the font.
While learning the graphic production ropes–in the pre-Mac era of spec’ing type, Rapidograph pens, vellum, wax, X-acto knifes, amberlith, and so on–I got interested in graphic design. (I also got interested in mountain climbing, but eventually switched over to mountain biking, a somewhat less hazardous leisure activity.) I spent a couple of years working as the “wrist” at various boutique agencies, then headed back East to study design at Yale.
Grad school was intense, full of talented people, and gave me the chance to learn from the design greats–including Paul Rand, my thesis advisor. After graduation, most of my class went off to design studios or teaching jobs in New York and Boston, but I made a beeline for the West Coast again.
For a few years I worked as a designer at a couple of different San Francisco design firms, then took another jog on the career path; I opted to explore the business side of the design business. For the next 4 years I was a senior account exec at Landor Associates, managing big corporate identity projects for big companies. It was also at Landor that I met my future husband and business partner, Peter Russert, Landor’s Director of Naming. My most memorable Landor experience? After meeting Peter, it had to be flying a Boeing 727 in the flight simulator, courtesy of my Delta Air Lines client.
While Landor gave me an appreciation for the visual side of branding, it wasn’t until I joined Apple in the early ‘90’s, and was chartered with directing the company’s branding efforts, that I got clued into the obvious: marketing can generate interest and desire, but it’s the actual experience of buying and using a product where the brand lives or dies. In other words, even the best ad can’t compensate for a crummy product or a surly customer service rep. Logo cops don’t manage the brand; that’s a job for the CEO.
Somewhere in the middle of my Apple tenure, Peter and I became the parents of identical twin boys. Talk about fun and exhausting times. A few years later I left the corporate world behind and struck out on my own as a brand consultant and occasional speaker on brand-building. Shortly thereafter, Peter left his corporate job, and we started our own small Silicon Valley brand agency, StealThunder. These days we help companies get their branding act together.
And at times when we’re inspired (or procrastinating), we jot down thoughts for this blog. Let us know what you think.