The brand————>The briefed down brief ————> The executed copy
Life breaks stuff, and you’re too busy (or too inexperienced) to deal with it, so Dewalt shows up as the one tool that can handle everything without calling a guy named Mike who tracks mud everywhere. The goal is to make Dewalt’s multi-tool feel like a reliable, no-nonsense fix for Gen Z renters who want to be capable but don’t want a garage full of tools. The executed copy leans into that by roasting unreliable handymen and positioning the 16-in-1 tool as cheaper, cleaner, and way less annoying. “We paid the handyman how much?!” lands the insight with humor while reinforcing Dewalt’s promise: self-reliance beats paying someone to mess it up for you hence the tagline “Screw it up yourself”.
We need to convince young adults that Old Spice is the ultimate cure for "Deodorant Dust Syndrome" before their moms mistake chalky pit stains for a serious narcotics problem. The goal is to position the product as a high-performance, clear-application stick that keeps you smelling like a man rather than a suspicious bakery worker. The executed copy perfectly bridges this gap by turning a functional benefit—no white residue—into a hilarious social catastrophe where "powdered evidence" triggers a family intervention. By asking if your pit stains are "alarming your mom," the ad uses Old Spice’s signature irreverence to prove that you can fight B.O. without looking like a person of interest.
The goal is to position Raid as a cold-blooded assassin for homeowners who have zero empathy for "Bug Buggerton".Since people harbor a hatred for these invaders, the strategy is to be "merciless" and "unforgiving," leaning into the joy of watching a pest’s life story end. The executed copy masterfully connects to this by staging a bug funeral with the headline "Not sorry for your loss," perfectly capturing that requested "whiff of schadenfreude". By mocking the bug’s legacy as a "father, husband, pest," the ad reinforces Raid’s fast-acting formula as a way to ensure there is "no resurrection," turning a home invasion into a permanent, unmourned death.
The goal is to convince "adventurers" that their feet deserve better than the cheap, disposable socks they usually ignore until a blister ruins their lives. We want to position Darn Tough as the resilient, "high-density" alternative that honors its rustic Vermont heritage while surviving the chaotic energy of modern outdoor enthusiasts. The executed copy bridges this by mocking the classic "Dad hike" where a promised one-mile stroll turns into a multi-hour survival test—proving the socks are tougher than your family's questionable navigation skills. By highlighting the "high stitch count," the ad connects the brand’s "unconditional lifetime guarantee" to the reality that while your willpower might fail on the trail, your socks absolutely won't.
The mission is to position Tums as the "culinary savior" for the 60 million Americans who overindulge during the holidays until their digestive systems stage a violent protest. We’re targeting busy, health-conscious people who eat impulsively during Thanksgiving and only seek relief once they’re "caught short" by the internal fire of acid indigestion. The executed copy masterfully connects this "fast-acting" benefit to the social stakes of the season with the headline, "Thankful for no Grandpa vomit incident this year". By promising to keep "vomit, acid reflux, and gassiness from joining your table," the ad uses Tums' 90-year status as America’s #1 antacid to ensure the only thing "overwhelming" about your dinner is the family gossip, not the gastric distress.
