Wal-Mart’s New Logo Is a Head-scratcher
I do not hate Wal-Mart.
The title to this week's essay certainly belies a distinct point of view regarding the company's recent logo change, but it does not come from a place of elitist indignation or new age, anti-consumerist, big box angst.
In fact, I stand in humility and awe at what Wal-Mart has been able to accomplish.
Born not of New York, Los Angeles, or Chicago, Wal-Mart's modest beginnings in rural Arkansas keep the company grounded. At its core, it believes in the power of the average family to make it successful.
Instead of an aggressive growth plan, venture capitalists, and slick marketing, Wal-Mart stuck with its founder's values: Thrift, competitiveness, and old-fashioned customer service.
Instead of seeding consumer taste with new fashions, new trends, and new ways of thinking, Wal-Mart found creative ways to give people exactly what they wanted: pretty good stuff at rock bottom prices.
Instead of hiring expensive consultants, Wal-Mart literally invented modern distribution efficiency through trial and error. (I have seen their distribution center in Menomonie, Wisconsin first hand. There are no adjectives to describe how impressive it is.)
One could make articulate - and in many cases accurate-arguments that Wal-Mart's success has not been a good thing. That the company put main street America out of business. That the company is too big, too wealthy, and controls too much. That the company simply peddles cheap junk, creating a feeding frenzy of consumerism that ruins the financial viability of those people least able to control themselves. That the company forces its suppliers into draconian terms to feed an insatiable lust for lower prices.
Perhaps that's true. But personally, it sounds like a good deal of hooey.
But that is precisely why the change to their visual identity is so perplexing.
Wal-Mart is successful because it is-authentically-what it says it is: A pure commerce machine. Something uniquely American in concept, and a vision of superiority in retailing the world over.
What concerns me about the company's logo change (and recent tagline change as well) is that the iconic company has drifted from its roots.
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According to the company: "This update to the logo is simply a reflection of the refresh taking place inside our stores and our renewed sense of purpose to help people save money so they can live better."
The company goes on to remind us that Wal-Mart has "freshened" its logo several times over its history, pointing to a synopsis on its website.
A 129-word press release? A freshening?
That's laughable.
A glance at the visuals from even a casual observer would immediately betray a major change in visual strategy. The previous logo's "star" was a clear, American symbol of pride and success-reinforced by a bold blue, white, and red color scheme in all promotional materials. It spoke to the traditional patriotic values of the company's core target audience. The bold font is a non-nonsense reflection of Sam Walton's vision: visible at a distance, as well as functional and compact for all forms of store signage.
The new logo employs a more "symbolic" star, offset to the right of the type, to capture the same message. But instead of a classic interpretation, the refashioned star functions more like an asterisk at the end of the type. It almost begs explanation. As if the Wal-Mart logo-or the company itself-needs some sort of clarification. Additionally, the new semi-serif font choice attempts to add a certain sophistication to the visual treatment-as does the lightening of blue and red (to more of a deep powder blue and bright orange)-but ends up weakening the overall arrangement.
Perhaps the logo change was meant to mark a change in Wal-Mart's customer base. Perhaps it was a nod to the company's entry into the grocery market. Perhaps it is a reflection of the company's growing international presence.
Perhaps.
But here is my guess. A visual change of this magnitude is a major undertaking for any company, and a colossal one for Wal-Mart. The cost of the transition will likely exceed nine figures. Given that, and the distinct visual transition, as well as the company's cautious statement, I would read a certain amount of boardroom consternation. I'll bet the whole team wasn't on board with this move. I'll bet more than a few thought it was a mistake.
To me, this is a classic case of not leaving well enough alone.
After seeing growth its growth stabilize over the last decade, and Target emerge as a tough competitor with a distinctly "stylish" approach, you can understand the pressure to keep up the torrid pace of shareholder growth.
But Wal-Mart never tried to be, nor tried to become, anyone else. That is what made it successful. That's not to say the company will never (or does not) need to evolve, but this move paints a big orange asterisk on some deep underlying issues.
To that point, let's look back. It's easy to forget that the original company at the heart of the following quip, "If you can't buy it at Wal-Mart, you don't need it," was not Wal-Mart, but Sears. Sears used to dominate. Its catalog was the staple of every home in America. They were the quintessential do-it-all.
Then they lost their way. The visuals again tell the story. When you review the visual history of the Sears brand, you'll see exactly where that happened. The company transitioned from "strong" and "stable" to "stylish" and the "softer side of Sears." It worked for a while. But in the end no one bought it. It just wasn't true. Now the company is part of Kmart-a depressing epithet to an American icon.
Put very simply, whether you like the visual treatment of the Wal-Mart logo or not, it is no longer "true." And that authenticity is the essence of any brand. And, I am afraid, the beginning of its undoing.
I am not sure Sam Walton would have approved.


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