I’m not much of a clotheshorse, but I do have a soft spot for baby clothes. Specifically, Hanna Andersson baby clothes.
I tell you this because my work on this month’s cover story got me thinking about my own word-of-mouth prowess. I spend a lot of time alone, but as a reporter — and a mom — I talk to a lot of people through the course of the day. Or rather, I listen to a lot of people, and then I boss around the ones that show up at the dinner table.
Does that make me the kind of person that friends turn to for advice? Would Procter & Gamble consider me a “connector,” one of those women who talk to 25 friends a day (way more than the national average of five)? Am I a “trendspreader”?
Do I yak about stuff I like?
Not much. I’m pretty introverted, actually. And prissy. I suspect that when I open my mouth, I come off as more of a know-it-all than a go-to gal.
But I do love those Hanna Andersson duds.
I could proselytize on these baby clothes for years: The prints are darling, the fabric has great hand and holds up heroically in the wash, they fit forever. I rue the day my daughter outgrew the style, and drifted towards Eddie Bauer and Old Navy.
But new parents get enough advice, on everything from circumcision to teething gel. They just wouldn’t listen. And these clothes are too good to miss.
So instead of gabbing, I give Hanna Andersson clothes as gifts. I just love wrapping up those little outfits in soft tissue paper and curling the ribbon, spreading the gospel one jersey sleeper at a time. Sometimes I even throw in a catalog.
I don’t hear much feedback beyond a thank you note, but I suspect that some have become the outfit you choose first from the clean laundry, and hand-me-downs that are actually welcome. And then I hope those friends remember where it came from and think, “She knew what she was not-talking about.” Ah, the halo of a really great brand.
But one brand does not a “trendspreader” make. After all, these folks account for only 12% of the population, according to P&G, and its questionnaire can pick them out. Could I pass P&G’s test and make it into Vocalpoint, P&G’s network of moms who talk up its brands?
What the heck. The worst they could say was, “You’re a prissy introvert.” So I gave it a shot.
It was painless: A dozen or so questions about how many kids I have, and how old; how many clubs or organizations I belong to; the number of people I talk to in a given day; the number of recommendations I make, and how people respond.
Four seconds later, I was in the club.
And still, I was more interested in hearing from other Vocalpoint members than talking. One woman chronicled her experience being interviewed by Business Week. (People are so flustered by the press, I swear.) And do you know how many things WD-40 can do?
Then two days later my friend Kris introduced me to her friend Nancy and we had one of those vacuous little chats, during which Nancy mentioned that one of her kids had drawn on the fridge with a marker and then covered it up with a Band-Aid.
Before I knew it, the words popped out of my mouth: “WD-40. That should take it off.”
Good lord. A trendspreader is born.
And I didn’t even have to gift-wrap it for her.
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