Surely the people at Segueway Solutions know that “segue” is pronounced “seg-way.”
So I’m assuming they pronounce the name of their company “Seg-Way-Way.”
__
P.S. To find out how the name is actually pronounced, I called both phone numbers listed on the Contact Us page. I got a recording each time; neither outgoing message included the company name.
When I last documented another startup name ending in -ly—that would be Swipely, which I wrote about almost six months ago—I noted that by my count, there were 50 -ly names cluttering the Web and confusing customers. “Enoughly,” I declared.
But I declared too soon, or soonly. Since March, I’ve discovered at least nine additional -ly names attached to new companies or apps. It’s no longer a trend: it’s a plague.
The latest repetitive offenders:
Cofounderly: A couples app for startup founders, according to TechCrunch. “A simple, entertaining, and insightful way for busy cofounders to stay connected....and avoid a nasty startup divorce,” according to the iTunes Store listing.
Contently: “Empowering and connecting quality journalists and brands.” Also: “Anyone can be a publisher!” The emphasis is, presumably, on the first syllable. Instead of a mission statement Contently has a manifesto. Instead of a slogan it has a mantra: “Be awesome.” I may have to take up drinking again.
Diagram.ly: “Draw diagrams online.” Uses the Libya country code, .ly.
Dorkly: “Dorkly is videogame comedy. Like TV, but dorkier.”
Livingly: The new name of Zimbio, a celebrity-news website that’s been around since 2006. According to the TechCrunch story, “Livingly” is “a cross between ‘living’ and ‘lovingly’.” Seriously.
Mural.ly: Not for wall paintings: nope, they’ve redefined “mural” as “a flexible content format that aggregates media and files, ideal for group ideation and visual sharing.”
The company is based in Buenos Aires, which may explain the need for a pronunciation key. But it doesn’t explain why they didn’t go with the Spanish equivalent, “Muralmente,” which is not only an adverb but also incorporates mente, which translates to “mind.”
Refer.ly: Calls itself “a community of people endorsing things they love” in hopes that other people will buy those things, earning the endorsers a cash commission. I’m guessing it’s re-FER-ly and not REE-fer-ly. Warning: vertigo-inducing website.
Rexly: A music-sharing app for iPhone that—it says here—is “powered by magic.” The name may have something to do with the founders’ fondness for dinosaurs.
Swarmly: An iPhone app that helps users “discover the places where people are swarming to have a great time, right now.” Tagline: “Be part of the buzz.”
I also chanced upon one honorable claim to an -ly name. Gravely is not, as you might wearily suppose, a cemetery app but rather a lawn-mower company established in 1916 and headquartered in Brillion, Wisconsin (population 2,937 at the 2000 census). It’s named for its founder, Benjamin Franklin Gravely.
Gravely gets a pass. The rest of you clones need to hire a verbal-branding professional to push you out of your rut.
__
Previously in the -ly files: Truly, Madly, Domainly; More -ly; The Unbearable Redunancy of -ly; Further Adventures in Namifying Trendily.
In celebration of New York Fashion Week, which began yesterday, I present an article of clothing whose name expresses in a single word the blithe mishegas of la mode: the Bolshivek Dress.
It’s sold by All Saints, which spells it exactly that way and describes it thus:
The Bolshivek Dress features folded sequins in antique and matt black tones to create a lux 3D textured finish. Scattered beads in similar tones have been added to give additional depth and detailing. The Bolshivek Dress uses a fabric blend that contours the body to create a flattering silhouette.
Rise up, comrades, and recite the list of grievances!
1. It’s “Bolshevik,” not “Bolshivek.” The word means “majority” in Russian.
2. The Bolsheviks were a Marxist Communist party founded in 1903 by Vladimir Lenin and Alexander Bogdanov in opposition to the czarist regime.
3. In the West during the Cold War, to label someone a Bolshevik was to disparage the person’s patriotism, loyalty, and personal hygiene.
4. Nothing about this dress suggests—to quote The Internationale—“workers of all nations” or “oppressed of the earth.” In fact, the heavy ornamentation and slinky shape—not to mention the $250 price tag—make it seem suspiciously bourgeois if not shockingly aristocratic.
As for the descriptive copy: “matte” and “luxe,” dear writer, not “matt” and “lux.”
As George Santayana surely would have said, “Those who misappropriate history are condemned to look like ill-informed, trend-besotted twits.”
__
For extra credit, read “Comradely Capitalists,” my December 2011 post about nouveau commie chic; and my What Were Those Fashionistas Thinking? posts about the Cohen shirt, the Barren skirt, Crazy B#@!h jeans, and oddly named shoes.
If I had been in charge of choosing an official snack food for this week’s Republican National Convention—an unlikely-to-the-nth-degree assignment, but fun to imagine—I would not have hesitated. Every bowl in every hospitality suite would have been filled with Pepperidge Farm Jingos!™
Also available in Parmesan Garlic and Fiesta Cheddar flavors.
Here’s the product description:
Bold Flavor, Snappy Crunch™
Ready for a bite? Our uniquely crunchy crackers are always baked and are seasoned twice for an explosive taste every time! It’s Jingos!™ A fun new way to snack from Pepperidge Farm.
And here’s the definition of jingo from the Online Etymology Dictionary:
“[M]indless, gung-ho patriot,” 1878, picked up from the refrain of a music hall song written by G.W. Hunt, and sung by “Gilbert H. MacDermott” (1845-1901), supporting aggressive British policy toward Russia at a time of international tension. (“We don’t want to fight, But by Jingo! if we do, We’ve got the ships, we’ve got the men, We’ve got the money too.")
Hunt’s patriotic song of 1878, with a swinging tune ... became at Macdermott’s instigation the watchword of the popular supporters of England’s bellicose policy. The “Daily News” on 11 March 1878 first dubbed the latter ‘Jingoes’ in derision .... [“Dictionary of National Biography,” London, 1912]
Source: Digital Journal.
Pepperidge Farms filed for trademark protection of “Jingos!” in July 2011. The mark was approved on August 19, 2012, which means the ™ will be changing to ®. According to the Trademarkia record, “The description provided to the USPTO for JINGOS is Crackers.”
“Crackers” could also describe how some people feel about the 2012 Republican Party platform, which supports the public display of the Ten Commandments, says English should be “the official language of our nation,” calls same-sex marriage “an assault on the foundations of our society,” and opposes gun legislation that would limit “the capacity of clips or magazines.”
(More crackers: Twitter friend ArmaVirumque reminds me that big donors to the Romney campaign were treated Wednesday to a party aboard “Cracker Bay,” a 150-foot yacht belonging to a Florida real-estate developer. The vessel flies the flag of the Cayman Islands.)
Thanks to Jessica Stone Levy for the Jingos! tip.
__
P.S. I will do my best to keep this blog a no-political-outbursts zone in this presidential election season, but Jingos! is just too irresistible a target to overlook.
I published a couple of posts in February—here and here—about a bunch of “new me” names: Numi tea, nu.me domains, Numi toilets, the Noomii “centralized online coach directory,” NuMe beauty products, and the NUMMI auto plant (R.I.P.).
Now, via TechCrunch, I’ve learned of yet another soundalike: NewME Accelerator.
It’s all lower case in the logo, but “NewME” in the content.
NewME Accelerator, which is based in San Francisco, was (ahem) new to me. I’ve since learned more about it from a couple of NPR Morning Edition reports (here and here). The venture sounds like a worthy idea: “a residential technology start-up accelerator/incubator for businesses that are led by under-represented minorities in the technology industry.” The founders of the fledgling companies move into one house and “eat, sleep, and breath [sic] startups.” During the 12-week program, the startups’ founders learn at the feet of venture capitalists and successful, experienced executives.
So far, so good.
Not so good: the NewME name. According to Monday’s NPR report—I couldn’t find this information on the NewME website—“NewME” stands for “new media entrepreneurship.” Unfortunately, though, the name doesn’t communicate that meaning: it sounds like a personal-growth/self-discovery course rather than a boot camp for tech startups.
And then there’s the problem of sounding “new” when there are so many other companies that sound exactly the same.
I was interested, too, in the names the startups have chosen for themselves. I hope part of the residency is devoted to rethinking them.
Especially these:
Whoorli wants to be “an easy way to promote your personal brand through video, picture, file sharing, and search digital content.” I’m not quite sure what that means, and I’m also not convinced anyone ever said “Whoorli” aloud. Because it’s thisclose to “whorely.”
Plisten is “a Social Site that Changes how You Interact with Corporate and Political Brands and Personalities”—and yes, all of the content is randomly capitalized and poorly punctuated. The name? It’s a lame portmanteau (I think the P stands for “political”) that conveys neither story nor benefit.
Dwllr “helps homebuyers, sellers and real estate professionals buy and sell real estate faster and completely online.” Here we have yet another name that sacrifices vowels (and good sense) in the interest of grabbing a cheap domain. Not to mention that it’s uncomfortably close to the established brand Dwell.
Of the 33 speakers and mentors identified on the NewME site, not a single one is a branding expert. That’s an oversight: there’s a lot more to starting a business than polishing your pitch and calculating projected sales. How about a half-day Naming 101 workshop, NewME? We’d focus on techniques for creating a name, strategies for securing a domain, and ways to develop a verbal brand. It’s not too late to fix those startups’ names.
There are names that push the envelope and names that push buttons. Here are three names that do both—one of them deliberately, one of them wrongheadedly, and one of them seemingly without a clue.
*
On one level, Bootie Babe, a nail polish and fragrance brand, is a playful pun on “beauty.” On another, it’s one more example of the assification of American branding. (See my previous posts on this subject: “Booty Pageant,” “Bottoms Up,” and “Cheeky!”) You could say the callipygian packaging is cute … or lewd.
Image from Pinkii.
The company, which is based in San Francisco, was founded in 2011 by Mark O’Hara, whose previous experience had included forming a 15-piece funk band called SuperBooty. According to the website, O’Hara launched Bootie Babes singlehandedly, designing the logo and website, applying for trademarks and patents, and overseeing product development. He clearly had fun with color names, which aim to appeal to tweens and teens. The purple on the left, above, is called Purp Slurp, and the blue is Hella Baloo. (Whether the overt sexuality is appropriate for this demographic is a subject I’ll leave to other critics.)
Unfortunately, O’Hara also seems to have taken the DIY approach to the rest of the brand language, which is an amateurish, trust-deflating mess. Here’s a line from the “Info” page:
SuperBooty President and CEO Mark O’Hara wanted to create a humorous, bold and truely [sic] unique beauty product that would literally “stand out” from the competition.
And the product name is misleading. This is a bootie—i.e., a short boot:
Gentle Souls “Barne Voyage,” via 6pm.com
And this is a booty:
Beyoncé, via Viennie V. (The headline on the story is “Beyoncé’s Booty Is Inspiration for Rare House Fly’s Name.”)
Yes, they’re pronounced identically. But their different suffixes are clues to their different meanings. And wouldn’t “Booty Babe” make a clearer reference to “beauty”?
Then again, maybe not.
(Hat tip: The Beheld.)
*
Erin McKean tweeted me a photo of Sloshee margarita ice pops and wrote: “Saw this at the grocery store and thought you’d enjoy the name.”
Well. The name is an obvious pun on “slushy/slushee/slushie,” a generic term for a syrupy-sweet crushed-ice beverage. Unfortunately, Sloshee also evokes “sloshed,” a synonym for “intoxicated.” Alcoholic beverages can promise romance, adventure, and sex, but getting wasted? That’s a no-no.
But that may be the least of Sloshee’s troubles. For one thing, the company (based here in Oakland, I regret to say) can’t decide whether its name is “Sloshee” or “Sloshees.” (I couldn’t find a trademark application, so maybe the founders are still making up their minds. Or they may be lost in a product-testing haze.) The website admits to “a year of business and legal hurdles” before the 2009 launch. The copywriting hurdles still haven’t been surmounted. From the About page:
Sloshees started in July of 2004 after observing how fun and refreshing popsicles can be after a hot summer day. We thought to ourselves, wouldn't it be awesome if popsicles had alcohol in them? The idea was formed over a few beers but it took almost 5 years to solidify into a business.
“A few beers”? Next time, try coffee.
*
And speaking of stumbling over hurdles, reader Stacey Kimmel-Smith, an equestrian who blogs at Behind the Bit, sent me an email about a clothing brand she’d seen at a tack shop in New Jersey.
“The company is European,” Stacey wrote, “and I wonder if maybe they selected the name without knowing that it sounds like a ‘bad word’ in English.”
When I finally stopped laughing, I checked out the Horze website. It’s replete with unintentional humor:
Who is Horze? Click here to see a movie. [Safe for work!]
Team Horze. [Cheaper by the dozen?]
This is the nature of Horze. [They’re born that way.]
Try it out yourself: Imagine strolling into a tack shop and saying, “Show me your Horze.”
There may be a cultural excuse here: Horze is a Finnish brand, launched in 2003 as an offshoot of Finn-Tack. Surely, though, there must have been at least one English-speaking person around to warn the founders that changing the S in “horse” to a Z results in “whores,” not Equine Zorro.
When I shared the Horze link on Twitter, Jonathon Owen (@ArrantPedantry) reminded me of this much-shared writing exercise posted on eBaum’s World:
Alliteration—check.
Brevity—check.
Memorability—check.
Appropriateness? Uh…
I can’t tell you what the owners of Tot Tank, a children’s store on Alameda’s Park Street, were thinking when they named their business. But I can share my own negative associations:
Tank (noun): Slang for jail cell.
Tank (noun): A large container for liquid or gas.
Tank (noun): An armored combat vehicle.
Tank (verb): To plummet; to suffer a sudden decline or failure.
Tank up (verb): To drink to the point of intoxication.
I had one additional association: “Shark Tank,” the ABC reality show in which entrepreneurs ask a panel of investors (“sharks”) for funding. I am a huge fan of this show and strongly recommend it to anyone starting a business or simply interested in how smart businesspeople think. But I wouldn’t want to think about hungry hammerheads when I’m shopping for onesies and bibs.
On the other hand, there’s that guppy-like Tot Tank logo. Maybe—maybe—we’re supposed to imagine the merchandise as colorful bait for babies.
Sorry. That’s not working for me either.
Bonus link: Read my post about the political use of “in the tank.”
Here’s one reason we warn our clients to avoid descriptive names:
Some history from the Just Darts website:
Just Darts is a family owned amusement and entertainment company that has been in business in Indianapolis since 1981. We started Just Darts by placing a few dart machines in a couple local bars. We have since then evolved into a full line amusement company operating many diverse machines such as juke boxes, pool tables, dart machines, and video games in many locations. Just Darts also runs dart, pool, golf and bowling leagues all year round.
They’ve “evolved,” but their name still has gills and fins.
Moral: Don’t limit yourself by choosing a highly specific name with no room for growth.*
Thanks to Andy Hollandbeck for alerting me to this unjust name.
__
* Unless you’re willing to go with a Simpsonian pile-up like Just Darts & Pool Tables & Foosball & Things & Beyond.
