Latest news with #exclusivity
Forbes
22-05-2025
- Business
- Forbes
How Smart Leaders Turn Word-Of-Mouth Into A Strategic Advantage
Business People at a Conference Event In a world overloaded with marketing messages, one thing still cuts through the noise: word-of-mouth. According to McKinsey, it drives 20% to 50% of all purchasing decisions—and it's up to ten times more effective than traditional ads. But word-of-mouth isn't luck. Great leaders know it can be built by design. Brands that consistently spark conversation don't get there by accident. They know that influence can be created. Here's how smart leaders make it happen—and how you can, too. People love talking about things that make them look good. That's the core of social currency—it gives them something worth sharing because it says something about who they are. Take Clubhouse. When the invite-only audio app launched in 2021, it took off fast. Why? Because getting in felt exclusive. Users didn't just join—they showed off. Screenshots, tweets, and status updates spread like wildfire, pulling others in with curiosity and FOMO. Leaders can learn from this. Exclusivity and scarcity create buzz. Whether it's a sneak peek, early access, or limited invites, give people something special to share. People won't talk about what they don't remember. So the goal is to stay top of mind—by tying your brand to routines they already have. That's exactly what Hershey did with Kit Kat. Back in 2007, the brand was fading. So they made it 'a break's best friend,' linking it to coffee—a habit many people have more than once a day. Suddenly, every coffee break was a Kit Kat moment. Sales jumped from $300 million to $500 million. You don't need a huge campaign to do this. Just look for daily moments that matter to your audience, and give them a reason to think of you right then. People don't share data. They share feelings. Joy, awe, frustration—these are the sparks that start conversations. Dove's 'Real Beauty Sketches' campaign nailed this. It showed women describing themselves to a sketch artist, then being described by someone else. The differences between the two drawings were emotional and powerful. It wasn't about soap. It was about how women see themselves. That emotional punch made it shareable. People didn't just watch—they talked. And that's the goal. When your story strikes a chord, it spreads. Sometimes, the best way to get people talking is to give them something to talk about. And no, it doesn't have to go viral. Think about Spotify Wrapped. Each year, Spotify delivers a personalized breakdown of users' listening habits. It's fun, a little surprising, and made to share. In fact, millions of users post their Wrapped graphics without being asked. It's a built-in conversation starter. Designing for word-of-mouth means creating moments—big or small—that naturally fit into the way people already communicate. That might be a clever message at checkout, an unexpected customer reward, or even packaging that feels photo-worthy. If the moment feels memorable, it's more likely to be mentioned. In today's crowded market, the win doesn't go to whoever shouts the loudest. It goes to whoever people remember—and want to talk about. Smart leaders build that into the experience. They create social currency, tie their brand to real-life habits, and use emotion to turn ideas into stories. Word-of-mouth isn't magic. It's intentional. And when you lead with that in mind, you won't just earn customers. You'll build advocates.
Vogue
15-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Vogue
Which New York Private Club Are You?
Haven't you heard? New York is in the middle of a private-club boom. I could wax poetic about why: the pandemic, which made this city a more insular one; iPhones, which robbed 'going out' of its discretion; the reach of social media, which turned getting a reservation at even an average restaurant into the Hunger Games. And I could muse that if New York nightlife is becoming a place where cash matters more than cool, we might be losing a piece of the city's soul in the process. But I'm not going to do that. Because guess what—I joined two of them! I wrote my little application essays, name-dropped other members, sent in a picture of myself, and then handed over my Visa, which was then charged very promptly and expensively. Why? The clubhouses, for starters. Many of them are beautiful spaces, housed in buildings by renowned architects and with interiors by famous designers. They offer world-class amenities—multiple restaurants! Omakase bars! Spas! Co-working spaces! Cinemas! Rooftops!–and have strict privacy policies. Casa Cipriani, for example, reportedly expelled three members after taking a photo of Taylor Swift. (She's been spotted both there and at Chez Margaux.) Which leads me to the final selling point of the private clubs: exclusivity. More important than all those fancy rooms? The people in them. So with that in mind, I decided to do something that's a lot more fun than plumbing the changing societal tides: poke fun of myself—and the rest of my next-gen closed-door cohorts—with a story about the types of characters* you'll find at New York's private membership clubs. After all, we can laugh at ourselves, right? Right? *Everyone described below is completely made up. No one sue me. All my money is tied up in membership fees. Chez Margaux Twelve people sent you a link to New York Magazine's 'It Must Be Nice to Be A West Village Girl.' You responded 'HAHA'—a 'HA' short of normal. Secretly, you're insulted. You don't own an Aritiza puffer. You own a Prada one. And you'd never wait three hours in line for I Sodi. Obviously, you have their V.I.P. number. While waiting for your friend Emma at Chez Margaux, you pull up Street Easy and search 'Tribeca.' You find a two-bedroom apartment listed for four million dollars. Then you text it to your father: 'Isn't this cute???' Zero Bond You're an 'entrepreneur' who got this membership to 'network'—even though no one knows what you do. (You're a real estate developer, thanks for asking.)
Skift
12-05-2025
- Business
- Skift
Emirates Just Made First Class More Exclusive – It's a Smart Brand Strategy
Bloggers may be up in arms, but Emirates understands that scarcity creates desire and exclusivity protects brand equity. On Experience Colin Nagy is a marketing strategist and writes on customer-centric experiences and innovation across the luxury sector, hotels, aviation, and beyond. You can read all of his writing Colin Nagy is a marketing strategist and writes on customer-centric experiences and innovation across the luxury sector, hotels, aviation, and beyond. You can read all of his writing here Few companies excel at brand management like Emirates. I'm talking about the clarity of their brand promise, the consistency of execution across touch points (advertising, digital, app, and in lounges and onboard), and continuous innovation. Plus, Emirates understands the importance of exclusivity. This strategic discipline has paid off. The brand consistently ranks among the world's most valuable airline brands, currently number 4 globally with a brand value of $7.4 billion, according to Brand Finance, and generated $33 billion in revenue in 2023-24, with premium cabins driving significant yield premiums. And good brand strategy is knowing when to say no. So I wasn't entirely surprised when I saw Emirates announce that its first-class product can now only be booked by Emirates Skywards members at the Silver, Gold, or Platinum tier. The collective gasp you heard on the internet this weekend was points bloggers, mileage runners, and YouTubers, disappointed by the change. I understand the negative reaction, but for the Emirates brand, it was strategically brilliant. Protecting the First-Class Experience For a long time, Emirates has benefitted from the halo of its first-class product: the Game Changer suites, the A380 showers ( highlighted by a memorable Jennifer Aniston spot), and the accoutrements like the if-you-know-you-know grey tote, Bvlgari products, and black notebook. Emirates' first class has become a grail item for bloggers and other people who like to hack systems and broadcast their experiences. In fact, Emirates reviews are a surefire way to goose YouTube engagement. The problem is for the core audience. These are people spending actual money to sit up front, or elite, regular customers of the airline, and this cabin is the last place you want to be annoyed by people broadcasting every molecular detail of their experience and asking for a third serving of caviar. It diminished the cabin experience for other paying customers. And that's why Emirates' decision to restrict access is brand protection at its finest and why I'm all for it. Emirates calculated that it has already built up enough brand value from the social proliferation of the first-class product, and that it was time to assert its exclusivity. The economics here are counterintuitive. Emirates has among the largest first-class cabins in the world, up to 14 suites on some A380s, and award redemptions aren't cheap giveaways. With prices often exceeding 200,000 miles plus substantial taxes, Emirates likely makes money on these redemptions. This move isn't about filling seats or protecting yield; it's about deciding who fills them. Emirates is borrowing from the luxury playbook here: Think Hermès limiting Birkin bag purchases or Rolex's notorious waitlists. The psychology is identical: scarcity creates desire, and exclusivity protects brand equity. When everyone can access your premium product (and annoy other passengers as they document it), it ceases to be premium. They are taking a cue from Air France, which has been arguably the best executor of luxury service with its La Première product. Air France makes it notoriously hard to book, and often limits it to the higher levels of its own loyalty program or other Skyteam members. It is hard to hack, and thus the allure, and privacy, is heightened for the people paying for the product. These moves come as more airlines are deciding to double down on first-class products: British Airways is investing £400 million in its new first-class suite, Lufthansa is retrofitting its A350s with Allegris First, and Singapore Airlines continues to expand its suite-equipped fleet. But product innovation alone isn't enough. As Emirates demonstrates, protecting the exclusivity of that product is equally crucial. In an era where every experience is Instagrammed and TikToked, Emirates' move is a reminder that there are still moves to ensure that luxury still values discretion over hyper disclosure. Sometimes the best brand management decision is knowing when to say no.
New York Times
10-05-2025
- Entertainment
- New York Times
If Your Vibe Is Right, He Might Let You Into the Club
The music inside Paul's Casablanca lounge was thumping on a recent night as sweaty dancers maneuvered under a disco ball. Outside, a line of would-be revelers looked longingly at the entrance. A green velvet rope was nearly all that was separating them from the good times being had inside. That rope and Fabrizio Brienza. As the 'door' of the lounge, in SoHo, Mr. Brienza is in charge of plucking patrons from the line to enter. Only a choice few get in. 'I curate the vibe of the place,' said Mr. Brienza, who has worked at Paul's for five years and estimates that on busy weekends he turns away hundreds of people who don't fit that vibe. Which is defined solely by him. Mr. Brienza is on the front lines of gate-keeping in a city that thrives on exclusivity, giving rise to power brokers around every corner. In New York, co-op boards decide who gets to buy apartments, and restaurant hosts control who gets the best tables — or any table — at the city's hottest spots. Admissions officers choose which parents can send their children to the fanciest preschools. Even fishmongers have their own seat of power, selecting which high-end chefs get the prime catch. Mr. Brienza is among a handful of so-called doors who decide which revelers get to come inside various nightclubs and lounges for drinking and dancing. At 55, he is one of the city's most experienced gatekeepers, having opened the rope for Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt, the supermodel Paulina Porizkova and even Anna Wintour. A few weeks ago, he turned away football players from the New York Giants. He is also a dinosaur of sorts. In an increasingly economically stratified city, the nightlife scene is shifting from scores of sprawling night clubs to a proliferation of members-only social clubs with four- or five-figured entry fees. Getting into Paul's can be pricey too. There is no cover charge, but it costs $1,000 for two people for 'bottle service' — V.I.P. treatment that guarantees a table, includes a bottle of alcohol and offers a waiter to serve it. Mr. Brienza rounds up some of those clients himself. Those who don't want to pay line up outside and take their chances. Mr. Brienza lords over his humble stretch of Spring Street in front of the club. He wears his wavy silver hair slicked back and his tailored suits loud — pinstriped, plaid, hot pink and neon green. His method of choosing patrons is as difficult for him to define as it is for outsiders to discern. 'If you have a good vibe and are a fun person, I'm going to take care of you,' he said. On a recent night he looked almost hulking in a custom-made white fur coat draped over his 6-foot-4 frame, hovering over the line that had formed. His face remained expressionless. He turned his back to the small crowd, looked at his reflection in a window and spun back again. He shuffled from foot to foot, tapping his python-skin boots on the sidewalk. He licked his lips. Suddenly, he locked eyes with a woman toward the back of the line. He nodded. A security guard pulled back the green rope and she slipped inside. Prince, Madonna, 'Miami Vice' types Mr. Brienza grew up in Campobasso in southern Italy and was fond of night life from an early age. 'Everyone looks better at night,' he said. He found work as a model across Italy until he scored a two-week job in Miami for Versace. He decided to stay, eventually gaining U.S. citizenship. It was the 1990s and Miami was peaking, Mr. Brienza said, 'the best place in the world.' 'Retirees, models, 'Miami Vice' types, drug dealers, girls, old Cuban guys,' he said. 'Prince owned a night club, Madonna was there, Sylvester Stallone was there, Sean Penn had a bar.' One night, he did a favor for a friend who asked him to stand outside the door at a party, making sure the guests who tried to enter belonged there. Someone tied to a new nightclub was at the party, watching him work, and offered him a job to become the 'door.' He went to work at Club Liquid owned by Chris Paciello, a wealthy Miami nightclub impresario who at the time ran some of South Beach's most popular establishments. Mr. Brienza was not a bouncer who manages unruly patrons and deals with other security issues; the club already had several of those. He was simply the door. The job was overwhelming at first. Mr. Paciello stepped in and offered advice: Think of the club as your house, Mr. Brienza recalled him saying as they surveyed the eager crowd one night. Ask yourself: Who would you let into your house? 'Everything got clear in my head — then I understood the assignment,' Mr. Brienza said. 'And that's how you create the vibe.' Mr. Brienza stayed mostly in Miami until the early 2000s. After a brief stint in Los Angeles, he moved to New York in 2004 to tap into the city's newly energized nightclub scene. He worked at all the hot spots: Pink Elephant, Home, Guest House and various night clubs at the Plaza Hotel, Maritime Hotel and SoHo Grand Hotel. He was part owner of Happy Valley in Flatiron with its Cheetah-print banquettes and a neon-lit staircase. All of them have closed down. He became a fixture of New York City nightlife. The Village Voice called him a 'door God,' and 'a hunk of Italian bread who wears rosary beads under his Dolce suit.' For a Miami publication he summed up his methods as, 'Scumbags out; cool people in.' He played himself in a mockumentary, 'The Doorman.' He's still at it, armed with war stories from all the nights spent with alcohol-fueled crowds. There was the time an intoxicated woman injured a security guard's eye with her fake fingernail. And the time a man picked up the heavy pole attached to a velvet rope and threatened to beat someone with it. Mr. Brienza developed a knack for spotting troublemakers. 'I see a person, and I can tell their background in three seconds,' he said. 'If a guy is cool or not cool, it's in the way they move.' He added: 'Almost never I am wrong.' He occasionally made people sob by refusing them entry. 'It's not that difficult to make a girl cry. They love the drama, the crocodile tears,' he said, his Italian accent adding an extra syllable to 'crocodile.' 'If inside is incredible and everybody looks spectacular and the people who are, let's say, average or below average show up, I shut them down.' 'The daughter of somebody big' Outside Paul's, small groups spilled out of three limousines and got in the line on a chilly night in March. Mr. Brienza's phone buzzed constantly. 'I have a big hot group of girls coming out to celebrate,' read one text message. 'I would love to bring them to your spot to dance and have a fabulous time. Let me know what you can do.' The vibe varies from night to night, Mr. Brienza said. The crowd generally is a collection 'of gays, straights, a lot of finance bros, a lot of skaters, the billionaire, the tech bro, the hot girl, the not-so-hot girl but she's the daughter of somebody big,' he said. 'I like to keep it mixed and eclectic,' he said. 'But I have to play with what I've got.' On this night, the line included a manager at Instagram, two guys who had been barhopping, a man who worked in software development, two women in cropped fluffy fur coats, six women in cocktail dresses and a man in a leather trench coat. There was also a 20-something guy in earth tones — khaki pants and a roll-neck sweater — standing with a friend. 'Finance bros,' Mr. Brienza summed them up by looking at them. 'We like the finance bros because they keep the nightlife alive. They are the ones with the money. But the look — the Patagonia vest and the backpack and the khaki pants — they are very square, nice people.' The two men, indeed, said they worked in finance. The wait was worth it, they said. 'This is as close to New York nostalgia as you can get,' said one of them, Morgan Shepherd. After an hour they decided their chances of entry would be better if they had women with them. The tactic worked: As soon as their female friends arrived, Mr. Brienza let the group in. On occasion Mr. Brienza will shoo patrons away. 'I tell them don't waste their time. It's not going to happen tonight,' he said. 'Bada boom.' But he doesn't often outright say no to anyone. Instead, he refuses entry by ignoring people. Eventually, they take the hint and leave. Among those who wandered off were three large men who had arrived in a dark S.U.V. They exchanged quiet words with Mr. Brienza, then spun on their heels and walked away. They were members of the New York Giants, Mr. Brienza said, but didn't want to pay the steep fee for bottle service and didn't want to wait in line either. 'A big football player from the New York Giants — they make $20 million a year,' he scoffed in exaggeration. 'Cheapest people in the world.' Mr. Brienza likes to reminisce about the heyday of night clubs in New York, the era of supermodels and celebrity encounters. Back then the owner of one club even tried to impose a height rule: Only tall people could enter. It was a way to ensure the club filled with models. 'Then all of the sudden one year, no more celebrities — just influencers,' he said. 'I can't stand influencers. It makes my skin crawl when I hear influencers.' Still, he knows that nightclubs in New York have begun to fade in popularity. The supermodels have been replaced by TikTok stars. Mr. Brienza is trying to focus more on acting and already has racked up roles in various films and shows. He knows New Yorkers don't go out as much as they used to and don't stay out as late when they do. Young people are even drinking less alcohol than they used to. In the early hours of the morning, the line in front of Paul's started to shrink, whittled down to a handful of people including Cameron Guckert, who arrived alone. Mr. Guckert stared at his Converse hightop sneakers, glancing up only occasionally at Mr. Brienza who was letting in people both in front of and behind him. Finally, not long after 2 a.m., Mr. Brienza opened the rope for Mr. Guckert. 'He was there for two hours,' Mr. Brienza said and shrugged.
South China Morning Post
09-05-2025
- Business
- South China Morning Post
Luxury labels ditch steep China discounts to rebuild value
Some luxury labels are pulling back from steep markdowns in China, seeking to rebuild an image of exclusivity to lure back wealthy shoppers whose spending is more immune to economic slowdown. Advertisement None of the products sold by Kering's Balenciaga on Tmall, China's dominant e-commerce platform, were discounted in the first quarter of this year – or even during China's biggest annual online shopping festival in November – according to data consultancy Re-Hub. That is a marked contrast to the brand's average discount of about 41 per cent on Alibaba Group Holding's Tmall during the same periods a year earlier. Versace, set to become part of Prada after a US$1.4 billion acquisition, cut prices for an average of just 3 per cent of its products on Tmall in the first quarter, compared with 12 per cent in 2024 – and the discounts were not as steep. Italian luxury house Valentino Fashion Group also offered fewer discounts on Tmall in January, and pulled markdowns entirely in February and March. The trend, which appears counterintuitive given sluggish demand, marks an about-turn in luxury labels' strategy in China. Advertisement 'It's a move from chasing traffic and short-term revenues to cultivating long-term brand affinity,' Re-Hub's CEO Max Peiro said. 'This shift is not merely operational – it's foundational. Brands are investing in relevance, desirability, and premium experiences to foster long-term loyalty.'
