• Home/Blog
  • Podcast
  • About
    • Contact
  • Portfolio
    • Advertising
    • Strategy
    • Taglines
    • Filmwork
  • Subscribe
  • search

Amy Swift Crosby

the story is in the telling

Presentation.

November 28, 2016 · By Amy Swift Crosby

No matter how obvious or clear or needed your product or service or personality is, we all need a presentation layer. The world doesn’t immediately “get” what we do without one. This is part of what we call “brand” — but let’s get away from that over-used, mostly misunderstood word for now. Let’s call it your skin or message, which encompasses not only the words you use but the images, typefaces, customer service experiences, decisions… that all go into the world’s experience of your product or service.

One of my favorite challenges is to work on a turnaround project, the repositioning a company who finds itself challenged in the marketplace, not because it isn’t amazing (it often is), but because they haven’t hit the right note in explaining why their offering matters. It’s a message problem, not a product problem.

This year, we had the honor and pleasure of working with S Factor creator and founder Sheila Kelley. The brand needed a shift in perception, and a new way to tell their story.

S Factor has been known as a pole-dancing workout. But to relegate it to that is like saying you use a computer to type, or your phone to make a call. A computer / phone / pole is the device — but the impact / results / value go so far beyond the accessory. Sheila created a brand that gives women a map back to their own feminine bodies and souls. Our job in refreshing their brand was about delivering an unapologetically feminine message — to capture the fierce, the soft, the angry, the joyous — the everything — that women could explore through S Factor. It was a message of reclamation, rejoicing and rebirth. But how do you explain that in a way that women want to hear it? How do you get the pole out of the way, without dismissing it? See how we did it here.

So proud of our work together, and so convinced that if our customers don’t get us — right away — we can’t blame them for not showing up.

Don’t put the burden on your audience or get upset when they don’t “get” you. Make it clear, moving and completely irresistible.

Uncover your truth. And then tell that story (or hire people who do it for a living.)

Editors.

November 21, 2016 · By Amy Swift Crosby

La Caronne, a concept in New York City. A great example of saying yes, and no, to the right things.

I was recently in a LA/NYC hot spot — a true den of trends — where it felt like the team, earnest as they probably are, said yes a little more than no. Apart from wool-vested, man-bun clad bartenders and suspender wearing, Japanese denim-adorned waiters, they had somehow captured every interior restaurant trend of the past ten years, in 3,000 square feet. Macrame? Check. Distressed wood? Check. Subway tile? Check. Repurposed shipping container? Check. Faux-industrialized materials in every corner possible? Check. I saw Austin, Brooklyn, Portland and Venice — bundled up into one unedited concept.

Every writer, every designer, everyone, everywhere, benefits from an editor. If I could have an editor every time I publish this blog, I would, and typically I have a very good one edit my work before clients see it. Writers benefit because we can’t discard what we don’t know is in the way. We can’t replace ‘meh’ words with better words when those were the words that seemed best when we wrote them. Editors have a perspective that sees the good, replaces the less effective, and removes the rest. They de-clutter. They see the mission and make sure you’re meeting it. All creative endeavors benefit from such a person, but it’s hard to for some of us to admit it because we mistakenly see their participation as an intrusion on something sacred.

In my role as a brand strategist and writer, I often wear the hat of creative director as well. Overseeing design means I see what’s working, and what isn’t, and support the designer to land in the right place. It doesn’t mean I can design — I can’t. And it doesn’t mean I know more than she does — I don’t. But we all want the best work, and that usually requires a healthy tension between the first version and the third.

Editors are essential.
Find a good one.
Then, let them take your precious ideas, concepts and manifestations — and force a focus, a distillation and a commitment to something better.

Because it almost always will be.

Crazy.

November 14, 2016 · By Amy Swift Crosby

Isn’t it crazy how…
You can show up, but it wasn’t enough.
Put in the time, but it wasn’t enough.
Do more than most, and it wasn’t enough.
Pay attention, or so you thought, but it wasn’t to be.

It’s jarring and unsettling when a distant, almost absurd reality, turns out to be exactly how it really is. Especially when what was imagined felt so bright, hopeful, full of potential.

This happens on grand levels, as it did last week, and on micro levels, in our own lives. You think you’re headed down one road, but those plans or projects downshift, turn the wheel, stop the car. All while you were busy putting gas in it.

And there you are.
How does this happen?
How did it go that way when all signs pointed this way?
It’s a good question.

Usually it means you weren’t listening. Or, only listening to what you wanted to hear. And other times you couldn’t have seen it coming. Either way, the abrupt nature of this stuff is more than hard. It’s brutal.

I’m in a state of openness as to what’s next. My stages of grief have gone from shock, rage, sadness, more fury — and now stillness. The action will come, I’m sure, and the next right thing will show itself. But for now, I’m sitting on the edge. Perched. Watching for signs of life and the next road to take.

Because there will be one. But I know I’ll need to have a little perspective — and distance — in order to see it.

It’s okay to stop, to feel what you feel, to look back before you move forward.
It doesn’t mean you aren’t doing anything. It means this is what you’re doing (for now). Don’t mistake action for answers. Digestion is part of any sincere, complete process.

Tomorrow.

November 7, 2016 · By Amy Swift Crosby

Let's turn the corner.

Big decisions are being made today. After you vote, you may be wondering what to do with yourself. Let’s skip to tomorrow for a minute.

I don’t know about you, but this election has allowed me to put a name on people who I feel are out of line, ignorant, entitled or dangerous. Last weekend my kids and I watched an ominous black truck with tinted windows fly down our quaint neighborhood street at freeway speeds, giving the finger to us as we gestured to slow down. Then the police officer we reported it to, took a fairly indifferent view about it — standing in front of us with a crew cut and Blackberry device, talking about personal rights and the precariousness of interpreting speed limits as a “bystander.” It occurred to me, with sickening unease, standing there as a concerned mother, my girls flanking either side of me in soccer cleats, hanging on every word (police interactions are pretty exciting) — ohhhhhh, he’s not one of us. He’s one of them.

It’s like in the movies when you want to report a fanged, bloody-toothed alien to some authority who will save you, and realize that everyone in charge is secretly…also a fanged, bloody toothed alien. But I gotta break this cycle.

In my mind, I have efficiently and confidently put these people who feel so different from me and mine, into a category. That category has a figurehead who has made it easy to wrap people we disapprove of into one “uneducated” burrito.

I have to unwind myself from the judgment I have gotten pretty righteous about casting, not because it’s natural — but because it’s become easy. Having a name for anyone I consider “other” has put me on a slippery slope of habitual divisiveness.

Tomorrow is a new day. Whatever happens, we are humans first. “They” — people whose problems we may not understand, whose families we don’t know – were given a voice, an identity, and it hasn’t brought out the best in many of us. But with a little impulse control, I’d like to return to my better self sooner than later.

We can turn against each other, or toward one another. But it starts in small, daily doses.

Here’s to tomorrow.

ROR.

November 1, 2016 · By Amy Swift Crosby

The Rate of Return usually measures how quickly you get back what you put out. You spend $ABC on Facebook ads and get XYZ number of impressions. It’s the gain or loss on an investment over a specified time period, expressed as a percentage of the investment’s cost. But (snore)… let’s simplify it and make you care.

I often think about ROR with an additional metric. When curve balls come, and they do, how long does it take you to regain consciousness? How many minutes, hours, days, weeks, months…does it take to find your balance again? To return to yourself and center? We all invest in people and projects that feel hopeful. When they don’t embrace us back, it can feel pretty chilly at worst, and a waste of our time at best.

Ideally, this process gets shorter and shorter. A meditation practice, a physical movement routine, a connection to something beyond yourself, usually supports the efficiency of the path back to your skin, your sanity — the truth that keeps your finger off the trigger. A little perspective also helps. “This has happened before, it will happen again, and I’m still here,” is one way to get into fast agreement with a rough moment.

The deepest wounds are usually around relationships, and how we feel appreciated / regarded / understood / seen and respected. And so often, the other person or people involved have little clue to their impact.

I’m chagrined at how slowly I’ve pivoted when the writing has been on the wall. But, you don’t know until you know.
And then, you know.

Joy.

October 25, 2016 · By Amy Swift Crosby

In a previous post, I talked about how these days, there isn’t one of us who doesn’t wear multiple hats. Having a side hustle is the norm. You may be in real estate, but you also dabble in raw food. If you’re a business owner, you may also lead a meditation group or be a professional sax player. My guess is that this speaks to our innate need to build a portfolio of interests to keep our lives full and interesting. Still, there’s another conversation I’m noticing at play lately, one that challenges a related paradigm. It’s this:

For many of us, the parts of our companies that make the most money aren’t always the parts that give us the most joy. And the parts that give us the most joy often don’t generate the commensurate revenue — and these are the ones that require more of our time than they justify on a P&L. I’ll use myself as an example: this blog doesn’t sell anything, promote anything, defend anything or ask for anything. It’s a mode of self-expression that often leads to productive conversations, but in and of itself — isn’t much of a ‘business,’ which is okay with me. And the reason it’s okay with me is that it allows me to say what I need to say, without being beholden to a client’s needs, or to a customer profile or to a creative brief. It gives me the freedom to work out ideas to an audience of smart, like-minded people, and figure out what I think about stuff. It nourishes me and gives me a creative outlet. It forces me to synthesize ideas. To take risks. To publish.

It also rounds out my client work. I don’t look to those projects for personal expression or fulfillment because I am able get these from other sources (although I’m no less attached to their success.) I show up to those teams/people/missions — whole.

I come across many successful people who are embarrassed (and even apologetic) at how much time their podcast / craft / favorite outside activity takes because it doesn’t deliver a big check. But my argument is that without it (and this may go against the conventional wisdom) — how good would you be at getting the big check at all? How happy would you be? How upset would you get if you couldn’t do that joyful thing?

The way I see it, the thing you love to do is your IV. It gives you the medicine you need to do everything else. And, the cost of not doing it is bigger than you might think.

Don’t make yourself wrong for how it performs. It has a different purpose, and puts money in a different kind of bank.

Newer Posts
Older Posts

Portfolio Categories

  • Advertising
  • Strategy
  • Taglines
  • Filmwork

Shortlist of Clients

  • Bulgari
  • B&H Photography
  • GUESS
  • PepsiCo
  • Proctor & Gamble
  • The Class by Taryn Toomey
  • Barre3
  • Mandarin Oriental
  • Sur LaTable

Big and small, start-ups and icons.

Subscribe

[insta-gallery id=”1″]

About Me

photo of Amy Swift Crosby

I’m a brand strategist and copy writer. I mostly work with partner agencies or directly with the leadership or founding team at a brand. My primary mission is to connect design and messaging solutions to business missions. I work with start-ups and Fortune 500 companies, across beauty, hospitality, wellness/fitness, CPG and retail. This blog reflects my personal writing and explores our humanity – often as it relates to work, space, time and language. You can review my portfolio here or connect with me here.

Photo - Andrew Stiles

The Brandsmiths Podcast



Brand Strategists Hilary Laffer and Amy Swift Crosby tackle business questions with candid, (mostly) serious and definitely unscripted workshopping sessions. Guests – from small business owners to CEOs, executive directors and founders – bring their head-scratchers, hunches and conundrums to Hilary, the owner of a boutique creative agency in Los Angeles, and Amy, a copy writer.

Search Posts

 

Latest Posts

  • The Last Time.
  • Barefoot.
  • Mileage.
  • Everything.
  • Eddy.

 

Copyright 2025 Amy Swift Crosby