NEW PRODUCTS NEED MORE THAN A SMALL MIRACLE

ROBERT McMATH

Of the thousands of new health and beauty care stockkeeping units introduced each year, few ever really hit it big on supermarket shelves, mostly because manufacturers often misjudge consumers' needs and desires.

The product's name, its promise and actual benefits, and its market positioning must all touch a consumer's nerve to stimulate the purchase.

Much of a product's success is in the name. Consider if Sure Deodorant had been called Maybe Deodorant, or if Right Guard were Left Guard? How about Close-Up Toothpaste, if it had been named Near Toothpaste instead?

Just about everybody has "bad hair" days. Some have them virtually every day. Consumers move from brand to brand looking for a miracle. A big miracle. So in 1980 when Clairol called its new conditioner Small Miracle, it was a major problem for the product.

Women had gigantic expectations, and Clairol offered only a small promise. Small Miracle sought a new position with the claim that it was a once-a-week conditioner that would last through three shampoos. Some consumers felt that they didn't get one real benefit, much less three, that it was indeed a small miracle -- one they could hardly notice. If you are going to promise a miracle, you had better go all the way.

So-called marketing truisms, such as "negatives don't sell," hold some truth.

Few people, for example, would argue that Dirty Paws would be a better name than, say, Clean Paws for a new hand-washing product. Some 40 years ago, however, a British manufacturer sought entry to the U.S. market for such a product called Dirty Paws. It was just as wrong then as it would be today.

Most people have heard the old adage, "Horses sweat, men perspire and women gently glow." How then is one to account for Revlon's No Sweat Anti-Perspirant?

In this case, the manufacturer tried to sell women a product that called attention to the potentially embarrassing bodily function it had been meant to conceal. No Sweat was launched in 1990 at about the same time as Helene Curtis's Degree Anti-Perspirant, as nondescriptive a brand name as a marketer could dream up. Degree today is a $115 million brand, with 7.1% market share, according to Information Resources, Chicago. No Sweat is no more. Even at Revlon, there are probably few who remember the sweat devoted to No Sweat.

If you invent a convenient product that makes people's lives less messy, you'll have a better chance of success. Invent a product that requires wiping up after each use, and it is bound to be a failure.

For example, toothpaste tubes have long been a source of unwelcome goo. Crest's Neat Squeeze toothpaste dispenser, introduced in 1991, solved problems that were only partially addressed by the pump containers that preceded it.

Neat Squeeze addressed the irrepressible human urge to squeeze the middle of the toothpaste tube. We've all bought a tube that burst a seam, or, as you gradually rolled it up to make sure you got all the contents, leaked from the bottom. Neat Squeeze didn't have the same problems, and it was a reason to buy Crest that had nothing to do with preventing cavities or gingivitis. Neat Squeeze was a "better pump," as it were, and Procter & Gamble did well with it until the novelty of toothpaste pumps wore off. Pumps, Neat Squeeze included, were more expensive per ounce of toothpaste, and eventually consumers decided packaging wasn't worth the higher price.

Dr. Care Toothpaste was a product that tried to enter the U.S. market from Canada. It was positioned for kids and the family, but it was packaged in an aerosol can. Understandably worried by what their young children might do with an aerosol can while unsupervised in the bathroom, parents shunned Dr. Care.

The "Buy-this-if-you're-a-loser" school of marketing is tricky too, because people usually don't buy products that remind them of their shortcomings. Gillette's For Oily Hair Only shampoo, introduced in 1992, flopped because people did not want to admit they had greasy hair. Consumers will purchase products that discreetly say "for oily hair" or "for sensitive skin" in small print, but they do not want to be hit over the head with reminders that they are overweight, have bad breath, sweat too much or are old. Nor do they wish to advertise their faults to others by carrying such products in their grocery carts.

In 1994, the Japanese owner of The Andrew Jergens Co. set out to change Americans' bathing rituals. Kao, which had acquired the Jergens brand in the late 1980s, announced it would spend $110 million over the next three years to introduce its Jergens Body Shampoo. Packaged with a sponge to generate more lather than a washcloth, Jergens Body Shampoo was the first of a new wave of liquid washes and gels designed exclusively for the shower.

Jergens Body Shampoo wasn't a bad idea or product, but the term "body shampoo" is all wrong for American women. They associate shampoo with hair, not with skin. It's a mistake to suggest to an American woman, even indirectly, that she has a hairy body. Letting underarm, leg and facial hair grow may be natural, but it has never been fashionable. If, as IRI reports, women spend more than $84 million annually on products that get rid of body hair, they don't want to think about cleansing it.

Was it worth the $110 million investment Kao promised to spend during the product's first three years on the market? Certainly Procter & Gamble and Unilever would respond with an enthusiastic yes: the body wash category is now worth more than $415 million in sales, according to IRI, with P&G and Unilever leading the way.

Truths and Foibles

Hundreds of dos and don'ts in launching new products can be found in a new book entitled "What Were They Thinking?," published by Times Business Books, New York, and co-authored by Robert McMath and Thom Forbes. The book covers the study of over 80,000 once-new consumer products, released over the past 30 years. The lessons learned are applicable to almost anything that can be loosely called a "product," from toothpaste to hair care as well as other non-related product categories.

Actual samples of most of the products covered in the book are stored and available for hands-on study at the New Products Showcase & Learning Center in Ithaca, N.Y., where McMath is a director.