Does 'Authenticity' Even Sell Anymore?

The ongoing quest for brand truth may have just reached its tipping point.

Everyone’s back from the Cannes Festival of Advertising and Creativity, though it no longer seems to be either of those things. The big takeaways this year: Creators are king, and authenticity rules.

I didn’t go to Cannes, but here’s my takeaway: Authenticity is dead.

Both in it’s effectiveness as an emotional trigger AND in the reality of what authenticity even means to this new breed of marketer that’s peddling it.

This year, “authenticity” was heralded in response to all the AI slop out there. We can all agree, AI slop is a bummer. But the “creative” solutions celebrated in Cannes last week were not the thoughtful, strategic, concise, beautiful images that make us think, or feel something, subconsciously connecting ourselves to inanimate objects for sale.

No. The solutions sweeping Gold, Silver, Bronze and Grand Prix Lions are going to the most authentic creators. And by most authentic, what they’re really saying is, ‘how likely are you to buy insurance from some thirst trap with 3 million followers?’

Ok, ok, we who cast the first stone forget about our own glass houses.

Hell, we named our little studio, Self — if that’s not a blatent authenticity-grab, what is? We truly bought into the notion that finding your inner truth, and owning it, was some secret recipe to a brand’s success. We’ve spent countless hours and dollars to define a brand’s authentic spirit. To visualize that thing that can only be one brand. Your brand. And to put it into words. Some of that work still has value. But it ain’t necessarily cashing checks.

Now remember, what many of us think of as brands, are simply constructs of someone’s imagination. The Pillsbury dough boy. Pep Boys. LiMu the Emu. All conceived with the express purpose of making us consumers like their brands better — better than the other guys, and better than they would be without those cute characters attached to them.

So how can a brand, something that’s manufactured, ever be “authentic?” Are we suggesting that authenticity is somehow a reflection of the people who work under that brand? And if that’s case, any more than three people would get complicated, no? Everyone brings their own version of authenticity to the table, and sometimes, errr… often-times they conflict.

Even if brands could somehow anthropomorphize into one collective human spirit, why bother (or limit yourself for that matter), when you can make a brand anything you want.

No, you don’t need to lie, or even embellish the merits of what you’re selling. But the pendulum has swung far, friends. We’re over-compensating for all the lying advertisers did in the 20th century, with some newly manufactured sense of “brand truth.” And nobody wants the whole truth.

This all became crystal clear to me as I started examining my own authenticity. Full disclosure, I, Geoffrey, creative director at Self, could be described as a little too authentic. Heart on my sleeve. Holding no cards. Nothing close to the vest. (If there are any other idioms for discretion, I have none of them). But even the greatest displays of authenticity need filtering. Trust me. I know.

Which brings us back to, why even try? Why try to be the most authentic sneaker company, or insurance broker or tooth-brush? Why not simply be emotionally mind-blowing? Amazing? Thrilling? Brands can be anything.

Here’s the real kicker. People actually respond pretty well, as long as it meets their needs, or entertains them, or leaves them with something worth remembering. Back in my day, we drank more Budweiser because belching bullfrogs told us to. Creepy clowns and meat bandits serving crappy burgers to over 99 Billion customers. Inauthentic AF. But no one in those meetings were demanding that the made up characters better reflect a brand’s core values.

So does authenticity really even sell? Maybe. In some cases.

Might it be time for today’s marketers to think beyond this silly idea that the makers of our favorite goods and services actually have some kind of soul that they’ve injected into your new thing and that’s why you love it. Yes, in all cases.

So for all you strategists, creative directors, copywriters and art-directors, fresh off the high of Cannes and clinging for your life of 13-hour work-days and a free snack bar, quit worrying so much about AI taking your job. Roam free. Be wild. Capture your audiences with gleeful abandon.

Because the most authentic thing any one of us can say is, ‘please let something interesting happen today.’