Stop Selling Features. Start Making Promises.
How a single line changed L’Oréal forever - and why your marketing needs to do the same.
In the early 1970’s, Ilon Specht was working as a copywriter at the legendary Madison Avenue firm, McCann Erickson. The agency was working with a French company, L’Oréal, to help them break into the growing American hair-color market.
At the time, Clairol was the leader in the category, whose brand Nice ‘n Easy was the first at-home shampoo-in hair color. L’Oréal believed its new product, Preference, was better because it delivered a more natural color. Leadership had originally wanted to run a series of comparison ads proving that Preference was technologically superior to Nice ‘n Easy, but the campaign was killed at the last minute when it was discovered that the research had not been done in the United States.
“We were four weeks before air date and we had nothing — nada,” said the account manager, Michael Sennott.
The creative team locked themselves in a room, desperate for an idea. The original concept was for the woman in the ad to be sitting by the window in one of those grand, fake rooms with glamorous, wind-blown curtains that only exist in fragrance commercials.
Ilon Specht hated it.
“The woman was a complete object. I don’t even think she spoke,” she remembered. “They just didn’t get it. We were in there for hours.”
Frustrated, Specht stopped listening and started writing. Within five minutes, she had the commercial’s entire script—one that had nothing to do with features, formulas, or technology. Instead, it made a promise.
“I use the most expensive hair color in the world. Preference, by L’Oréal.
It’s not that I care about money. It’s that I care about my hair. It’s not just the color. I expect great color.
What’s worth more to me is the way my hair feels. Smooth and silky but with body. It feels good against my neck.
Actually, I don’t mind spending more for L’Oréal. Because I’m worth it.”
L’Oréal wasn’t just selling hair color anymore. They were selling self-worth.
The ad worked. Preference began stealing market share from Clairol. By the 1980s, it surpassed Nice ‘n Easy as the top-selling brand in the country. Eventually, L’Oréal made “Because I’m worth it” their official slogan.
It remains one of the most recognizable advertising lines in history.
The problem with most ag marketing is that instead of selling futures, we sell features.
Most of us focus on the what—the product, the ingredients, the technology, the performance data—but fail to tell our customers why it matters to them in a way that resonates. We fail to help them become who they want to be by using our product; instead, we selfishly insist that they use it because we say it’s best.
We say things like:
“Higher yield potential.” (You and everyone else)
"The most advanced sprayer nozzle design." (They don’t want a nozzle; they want fewer missed weeds and better coverage.)
"A more efficient biological." (They don’t care about your microbe strain; they care about healthier soil and increased production.)
"A trusted name in ag retail." (Everyone else is saying this too.)
“More efficient nutrient uptake.” (What does that mean for me?)
“Better ROI than the competition.” (Prove it.)
These are claims, not promises.
They don’t connect to the customer’s worldview. They don’t give them a reason to believe.
L’Oréal didn’t win by saying “Preference delivers a more natural color”—even though that was true.
They won by saying: “Because I’m worth it.”
Most marketing in our industry lacks a story that gives our customers something to be part of and fails to make a promise that breaks through the noise.
At the heart of every successful marketing campaign is a unique promise that matters.
A promise that transforms a purchase into a statement about who the customer is and who they want to become.
Here are some examples:
If you’re an independent agronomy shop…
❌ Don’t say: “We provide expert agronomic advice tailored to your farm.” (yawn)
✅ Say something like: “Good for the land. Great for your bottom line.”
✅ Or: “Healthy soil. Higher profits. No compromises.
Agronomy is often seen as a game of trade-offs. Farmers fear that stewardship comes at the cost of yield or profit. Eliminate that fear, prove they can have both—and they’ll follow you.
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