Anyone who’s ever moved out of the comforts of their parents’ home for the first time knows that they’ve given up a lot of the little luxuries they provide. Fully stocked fridges, laundry service, dishwashers, telephones, Internet—all the things that make my generation as spoiled as we are—tend to diminish and disappear when you’re on a limited budget. Having now lived on my own for the past three years, going home is always a special treat because it means I can once again take advantage of these little comforts in life. It also gives me the opportunity to rekindle my relationships with those that I’ve left behind. The first one I often seek—post parents at the airport—is my relationship with cable television. Actually, in my case, with a television at all.

One night I found myself channel surfing, relishing in the opportunity to watch the fictional (and the occasional non-fictional) works of entertainment that wasn’t streaming on my little 12” computer screen. I stopped at a television ad, featuring a fully packed bar filled with impeccably dressed clients. A young, classy gentleman ordered a bottle of beer a good ways away from the bar and the clients were all friendly enough to continue passing this bottle of beer down hand to hand when it reached another young, good looking man. Two-fisting with a martini in one palm and the bottle of beer in the other, he ultimately decided to keep the beer and pass along the martini instead. When the martini reached the fellow who ordered the drink, he looked confused and frustrated at what he received, before the ad closed.

Continuing with the channels, I stopped on another commercial. This time it featured two females dressed in relatively professional attire, pitching new marketing (albeit ridiculous) ideas for a different brand of beer to several young Caucasian men. One of the men suggested that the two females battle it out to determine a winner, before his friends looked at him with disappointment. On the contrary, the ad closes with the same two females dressed in skimpy boxing attire informing viewers to head online to see the battle take place, despite the winner already having been determined.

The first ad was for the internationally recognized beer Heineken. The second, American-based Coors Light. The differences between the two ads were so stark, that they almost epitomize the stereotypical images suited to each of the firms. Heineken, a beer that’s often placed as a higher class and more expensive beer (after all, it is imported) featured individuals of all races, cultures and sexes dressed in a stylish and sophisticated manner. Coors, on the other hand, featured the formulaic white American male and females in a role strictly for sex appeal.

The wittiness of the Heineken ad encouraged me to surf online to see more of their advertisements; each of them conveys the Heineken brand in a clever and sharp way. Moreover, they’ve used a variety of celebrity stunts with their advertisements; the beer has been paired with numerous 007 films and both Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston have both starred in short commercials. (Not appearing together, though.) Similarly, the Coors Light ads all project the same all-American—and not always in a positive way—lifestyle. Loud parties and models straight out of the Abercrombie & Fitch catalogue, their advertisements are consistently and continuously about sex appeal.

Heineken’s ability to maintain its calibre and use intelligence in marketing tactics is what defines and demonstrates their ability to succeed on a global scale. Though my time away from home has been filled with education and higher learning, it appears that television hasn’t evolved in the same manner. The brand actively chooses to associate itself with a higher class and as such, appeals to the growing population of educated consumers. They’re a smart company, making it another reason to add to the list for investing in this firm. I won’t hold the Coors commercial against cable television, but I will remember to next time buy a Heineken.


The Canadian Value Investor © 2007