Meet the Striding Man

History records that the Striding Man was first sketched in 1908 by the illustrator and cartoonist, Tom Browne. Since then, he has marched with single-minded vigour across Johnnie Walker whisky publicity and packaging, sometimes taking centre stage, at others, lurking in the margins in trade mark form. His anachronistic outfit, polished riding boots, narrow white trousers and scarlet frock coat embodied the longevity of the spirit (first introduced in 1820) and an unstoppable forward momentum.  A knob-handled cane, a monocle and a stovepipe top hat complete the ensemble and the association with a man of substance. A rosbif complexion and a bleary-eyed grin suggest some familiarity with the product. He has the air of a partially reformed school bully.

These vintage examples are from both sides of the Atlantic at the height of his powers, dominating all around him and making his presence impossible to ignore. In Britain the illustrator of choice was Clive Uptton (who also worked for Cadbury and Brooke Bond Tea).  In America a wide range of prominent illustrators were enlisted for their personal responses to the product (a subject for another time) while the distinctive square section bottle shared the focus with the Striding Man. A low point came in the 1930s with a racist tableau in which the Striding Man was pictured extending his monocle to a painfully servile, dungaree-clad small boy, for the privilege of giving it a polish.

Of all brand mascots, the Striding Man is one of my least favourite.  His spiritual home is the world of Vanity Fair via Quality Street, an age of affluent idleness much favoured by unimaginative British advertisers as a nostalgic setting for product placement.  Striding Man, full of confidence and entitlement, is designed to appeal to high earners offering well earned respite from the task of wealth creation and makes no effort to endear himself to drinkers of more modest means. Which enables him and his masters to sidestep any responsibility for alcohol abusers.

 

Monocle Men

Monocle Men were never short of employment opportunities in the Universe of Brand Characters. Their association with good breeding and their foppish tendencies made them ideal product ambassadors. Rea Irvin’s creation for the New Yorker, Eustace Tilley, epitomised the air of effortless superiority that a monocle confers. The updated Tilley from 2018 was drawn by Malika Favre. Heinz, of soup and ketchup fame, chose a monocled tomato (known as Mr. Aristocrat) to spearhead their advertising campaigns in the 1930s.  Often deployed in multiple, the top hats were conventional class signifiers but the rubicund features sent out a very mixed message suggestive of short temper and irritability - not the qualities looked for in a brand mascot. The breezy monocled bonhomie of the Striding Man in red frock coat and polished black boots has been around since 1909, embodying the virtues of Johnnie Walker whisky to the present day.  Mr. Brandyman does the same job for Martell with a brandy glass for a head - hand drawn in cartoon form, his raffish demeanour is amplified by the cigar or cigarette that’s never far from his lips.  In 1919 Sharps Toffee introduced Sir Kreemy Knut (biography here) who, with bow tie, briefcase and swagger stick, launched his campaign to ruin the nation’s dental health with caramelised sugar.  A final mention for Mr. Peanut whose contribution to monocled marketing has been featured extensively on this blog, most recently here in 2012.