This brings me once again to humourous copywriting because my Campari creative has a lot of humour in it, especially when it comes to the story told in the brochure. If humour is written successfully, as research shows, it can really grab attention and sales. This is emotion at work again.
Emotion is the only way to go when a product offers no USP- the Unique selling Point. (Campari of course has a USP.) But once you establish the emotion, get on with the selling.
And now for the real fun part of this mailing, the brochure. Notice how Campari is interwoven throughout it and is the real hero. ‘No Campari’, as says Galantino in the letter, ‘no story to tell’.
Adventures with Campari
Page 1. The Great Seduction
Think of what they did to Galileo who claimed the earth went round the sun. Think of the brilliant Van Gogh who sold only one painting in his lifetime. Think of the composer Stravinsky who suffered public ridicule with his first concert.
Genius is never easy on the tongue. It grows on you.
This serves as introduction to the adventures and carries forward the theme of the mailer: the idea that it takes three drinks of Campari to get hooked. The client wanted to convey the international essence of this drink, which is why Galantino tastes Campari in three different locations round the world.
Page 2 Bitter
It was one of those mornings after, and a friend, also suffering from a hangover, hurtled into my apartment in Milan with a bottle of the reddest drink I had ever seen. Not just any red. A red with glints of fire. “This will do the trick,” said he, “Do you have some orange juice and ice?”
What can I say about that first sip? Decidedly bitter. “Pfaff!” I cried.
“Why Galantino,” said he, “this is the drink of the elite. The drink of prime ministers! Indeed, in Brazil, they think of it as an aphrodisiac. Drink it three times and you’ll never drink anything else again.”
“An aphrodisiac you say?” I asked, and downed the glassful in a couple of gulps. The clouds in my head cleared. My friend looked like he was going to finish the bottle.
Page 3 Bitter-Sweet
That evening I took my new girlfriend out for the first time. “What will you drink?” I asked after telling her how beautiful she looked in her red dress.
“Campari, of course, thank you,” she said rather stiffly.
“You too?” I asked.
“My favourite,” said she. “But you’ve got to drink it the right way.”
It was Campari with soda this time. Bitter, yet sweet. As I rolled it on my tongue, I could taste many more flavours I hadn’t noticed before.
“What do they put in it?” I asked, intrigued.
“103 herbs, some bitters, and distilled water. But what the herbs are, nobody knows. Except three men on earth. Like it?” She smiled at me tantalisingly.
“It grows on you,” I said. I thought then that Campari was the most seductive drink I had ever tasted. The taste sneaked into your senses slowly but surely.
Page 4 Sweet Seduction
A week later, I was at an embassy bash in Paris. All those famous lips sipping Campari.
“This time I’m not getting tempted,” I determined, and refusing the offering of the drink, I went out into the gardens for a breath of fresh air. There were fountains everywhere and marble statues of Venus and Michelangelo’s David, and as I strolled by Bacchus, God of Wine, a marble hand shot out with a glass of Campari in it.
“You can’t escape Campari,” said an ancient voice.
So I took it.
It was like Pompeii. Mount Vesuvius erupting on the tongue. Thick, creamy, bitter-sweet, brimming with passion and sensuality. There was no turning back now. The seduction was complete.
May you enjoy your own discovery of Campari, the world’s most famous drink, the drink of the elite, of connoisseurs and those with a discerning palate. Do take the Campari Privilege to your favourite watering hole and you will be subtly served. And remember, this invitation comes to you because of who you are. Never by chance.
Galantino, December 1997