苹
果（Apple）产品已经风靡中国。在沿海及内陆城市的主要街道几乎都能找到星巴克（Starbucks）。从耐克（Nike）、别克（Buick）到西门子（Siemens），中国消费者对西方品牌的喜爱远远胜过国内的竞争品牌。微博的兴起，胡同拳头（Hutong Fist）和麦田守望者（Catcher in the Rye）等摇滚乐队的流行，甚至是圣诞节的备受追捧，似乎都表明中国正越来越西化。但千万别被表象所迷惑。中国的消费者并没有变得“西方化”。他们越来越现代化和国际化，但他们依然很“中国”。如果说我从自己在中国20年担任广告高管的经历中学到了什么的话，那就是，成功的西方品牌灌输给中国的信息是“全球化”而不是“外来者”──这样他们就能成为中国文化的载体。
Bloomberg
图片：中国人的消费文化
各种各样的青年群体时不时地浮出水面，看看“都市玉男”以及“淘宝狂人”的兴起就知道了。但自我表达一般都会遭到反感，社会认可仍等同于“成功”。文科生被认为不如拥有工程或财会学位的毕业生。因为担心“丢脸”或被打上有病的标签，很少人敢去看心理医生。不能生孩子是令人失望的严重问题。
中国人接纳数字产品的速度是这个国家在变化的一个迹象。但改变零售商与消费者力量制衡的电子商务却直到中国人追求放心感的需求得到满足才开始起步。即便交易是在线上安排的，多数消费也都是当面完成，购买者查验产品并用现金付款。
就连数字化的自我表达也需要安全，需要匿名的掩护。新浪微博（中国版Twitter）、人人网和开心网（中国版Facebook）等社交网站迅速发展。但用户却躲在假身份和化名背后。我供职的智威汤逊广告公司（J. Walter Thompson）与互联网控股公司IAC所做的一项调查发现，不到三分之一的年轻美国人赞同“现实生活中不能说的不能做的我都可以在网上实现”这句话，41%的人不赞同。而在中国的受调查者中，73%的人赞同，只有9%不赞同。
各个社会经济阶层的中国人都在努力“赢”──也就是攀爬成功的阶梯──他们都在适应着体制，而不是去对抗它。在中国人的消费文化中，一直存在着自我保护和彰显身份的矛盾。这种挣扎解释了两种貌似冲突的发展趋势的存在：一方面，我们看到惊人的高储蓄率、对物价的极度敏感和对信用卡支付利息的排斥；另一方面，中国人又痴迷于奢侈品，愿意花年收入1.2倍的钱买一辆车。
每天，中国人都面临着被撕碎的社会安全保护网，保护个人财富制度的缺乏，被污染的食品，还有无数对家庭和健康构成的威胁。消费者通过物质展示来彰显身份的本能对保守的购买行为起到了平衡作用。保护自身利益是消费者考虑的首要因素。即便是高档涂料也必须确认无毒才能展示颜色鲜艳的优点。无论是什么价位，安全是所有购车者主要考虑的因素。
要赢得中国的消费者，品牌需遵循三个规则。第一点也是最重要的，公开使用的产品，无论是直接公开还是间接公开，价格溢价都要比私下使用的产品高。领先的手机产品都是国际品牌。而家用电器领跑者则是廉价的国货，比如TCL、长虹（Changhong）和小天鹅（Little Swan）。根据英国零售商百安居（B&Q）的一项研究，中国中产阶级平均只花1.5万美元为一套1,000平方英尺（约92平方米）的毛坯房进行装修。
购买奢侈品更多的是身份投资，而不是为了其本身的美观或工艺。中国目前是世界胃口最大的奢侈品买家，把前往香港和巴黎等城市的出境游算上的话至少是这样。据免税购物公司Global Refund统计，在法国，占游客总数不到2%的中国游客消费了15%的奢侈品。
公共展示也是全球品牌为吸引中国消费者重新定位应考虑的一个关键因素。尽管中国有茶文化，但星巴克却成功地把自己打造成了新一代精英聚会洽谈的地方。必胜客（Pizza Hut）和哈根达斯（Haagen Dazs）都在中国建立了庞大的以堂食为主的连锁店网络。（买回家享用的五美元一大盒的香草冰激凌在中国不好卖。）
第二，产品的优势应该强调外在而非内在。即使对于奢侈品，赞颂个人主义的西方宣传手法在中国也行不通，比如人们熟知的西方观念“我想要什么”和“我感觉怎样”。汽车的广告语需要表现不断进取的男子汉气概。例如宝马（BMW）的全球广告语“终极座驾”（ultimate driving machine）就融入了带有中国式抱负心的元素。
Sean McCabe
在中国，就连啤酒都得做文章，必须表现出能把人聚起来，增强信任和增进互惠互利。而在西方国家，分享美好的时光就足矣。
情感上的好处必须实际，即便是关乎内心的事物。情人节几乎像春节一样受中国人重视，但他们却把这个节日看做男人表现自身价值和忠心的一个机会。在美国，戴比尔斯（De Beers）的广告语是“钻石恒久远”（A Diamond is Forever），是对永恒浪漫的赞美。而在中国，同样的广告语却意味着责任、缔结家庭的誓约──固若磐石，就像钻石一样。
最后，在中国定位一个品牌时，产品须能解决野心勃勃与严守克己的矛盾，既要彰显个性，又要适应融入。男人渴望在不违反游戏规则的前提下获得成功，这也就是为什么有钱人倾向于奥迪或者宝马，而不是浮华惹眼的玛莎拉蒂（Maseratis）。
奢侈品消费者既要表现自己对体制游刃有余的掌控，同时又要保持低调，因此万宝龙（Mont Blanc）的六角星标识和宝缇嘉（Bottega Veneta）标志性的编织皮革颇受欢迎，二者都是低调的奢华。年轻消费者既想要时尚，又希望被人接受，因此选择匡威（Converse）和优衣库（Uniqlo）等比较传统的时尚服装品牌。
中国家长对宣传孩子能“在潜移默化中学习”的品牌很感兴趣：智力培养披上趣味的外衣。迪士尼（Disney）在中国做教育会比主题公园更成功，它的英语学习中心很受欢迎。麦当劳（McDonald's）的餐厅在西方是儿童的快乐天堂，而在中国却变成了学术园地：开心乐园餐（Happy Meals）中的身穿世界各地服装的史努比（Snoopy）小雕像可供收藏，麦当劳网站提供开心乘法课。四季宝（Skippy）花生酱结合了“花生的美味”和“三明治的巧妙配方”。
就连中国对圣诞节的喜爱──到处都有大型的假日销售活动，到处都有圣诞音乐──也在推动一项明显具有中国特色的议程。圣诞老人是进步的一个象征；他代表中国越来越适应新的全球秩序，中国肯定会在不牺牲国家利益的情况下融入这个秩序。在个人身份与外界认可密不可分的中国文化中，圣诞节已经成为人们彰显身份的一种方式。
美国梦──财富在自由中达到顶峰──令中国人陶醉神往。但美国人梦想“独立”，而中国人渴望“掌控”自身命运并控制日常生活的变幻莫测。在物质追求相似的表象下隐藏着本质迥异的情感诉求。如果西方品牌能学会迎合中国的世界观，那么也许整个西方世界也可以做到。
（本文作者汤姆•多克托罗夫（Tom Doctoroff）是《中国人想要什么：文化、共产主义和中国的现代消费者》（What Chinese Want: Culture, Communism and China's Modern Consumer）一书的作者，智威汤逊广告公司北亚总监及大中华区首席执行长。智威汤逊的客户包括星巴克、戴比尔斯和人人网。）
（本文版权归道琼斯公司所有，未经许可不得翻译或转载。）
Tom Doctoroff
Apple has taken China by storm. A Starbucks can be found on practically every major street corner in coastal cities and beyond. From Nike to Buick to Siemens, Chinese consumers actively prefer Western brands over their domestic competitors. The rise of microbloggers, the popularity of rock bands with names like Hutong Fist and Catcher in the Rye, and even the newfound popularity of Christmas all seem to point toward a growing Westernization.
But don't be deceived by appearances. Consumers in China aren't becoming 'Western.' They are increasingly modern and international, but they remain distinctly Chinese. If I've learned anything from my 20 years working as an advertising executive in China, it is that successful Western brands craft their message here to be 'global,' not 'foreign' -- so that they can become vessels of Chinese culture.
Understanding China's consumer culture is a good starting point for understanding the nation itself, as it races toward superpower status. Though the country's economy and society are evolving rapidly, the underlying cultural blueprint has remained more or less constant for thousands of years. China is a Confucian society, a quixotic combination of top-down patriarchy and bottom-up social mobility. Citizens are driven by an ever-present conflict between standing out and fitting in, between ambition and regimentation. In Chinese society, individuals have no identity apart from obligations to, and acknowledgment by, others. The clan and nation are the eternal pillars of identity. Western individualism -- the idea of defining oneself independent of society -- doesn't exist.
Various youth subtribes intermittently bubble to the surface -- see the recent rise of 'vegetable males' (Chinese metrosexuals) and 'Taobao maniacs' (aficionados of the auction website Taobao). But self-expression is generally frowned upon, and societal acknowledgment is still tantamount to success. Liberal arts majors are considered inferior to graduates with engineering or accounting degrees. Few dare to see a psychologist for fear of losing 'face' -- the respect or deference of others -- or being branded sick. Failure to have a child is a grave disappointment.
The speed with which China's citizens have embraced all things digital is one sign that things are in motion in the country. But e-commerce, which has changed the balance of power between retailers and consumers, didn't take off until the Chinese need for reassurance was satisfied. Even when transactions are arranged online, most purchases are completed in person, with shoppers examining the product and handing over their cash offline.
Even digital self-expression needs to be safe, cloaked in anonymity. Social networking sites such as Sina Weibo (a Chinese version of Twitter), Renren and Kaixing Wang (Chinese versions of Facebook) have exploded. But users hide behind avatars and pseudonyms. A survey conducted by the advertising firm JWT, where I work, and IAC, the Internet holding company, found that less than a third of young Americans agreed with the statement 'I feel free to do and say things [online] I wouldn't do or say offline,' and 41% disagreed. Among Chinese respondents, 73% agreed, and just 9% disagreed.
Chinese at all socioeconomic levels try to 'win' -- that is, climb the ladder of success -- while working within the system, not against it. In Chinese consumer culture, there is a constant tension between self-protection and displaying status. This struggle explains the existence of two seemingly conflicting lines of development. On the one hand, we see stratospheric savings rates, extreme price sensitivity and aversion to credit-card interest payments. On the other, there is the Chinese fixation with luxury goods and a willingness to pay as much as 120% of one's yearly income for a car.
Every day, the Chinese confront shredded social safety nets, a lack of institutions that protect individual wealth, contaminated food products and myriad other risks to home and health. The instinct of consumers to project status through material display is counterbalanced by conservative buying behavior. Protective benefits are the primary consideration for consumers. Even high-end paints must establish their lack of toxicity before touting the virtues of colorful self-expression. Safety is a big concern for all car buyers, at either end of the price spectrum.
To win a following among Chinese buyers, brands have to follow three rules. First and most important, products that are consumed in public, directly or indirectly, command huge price premiums relative to goods used in private. The leading mobile phone brands are international. The leading household appliance brands, by contrast, are cheaply priced domestic makers such as TCL, Changhong and Little Swan. According to a study by the U.K.-based retailer B&Q, the average middle-class Chinese spends only $15,000 to fit out a completely bare 1,000-square-foot apartment.
Luxury items are desired more as status investments than for their inherent beauty or craftsmanship. The Chinese are now the world's most avid luxury shoppers, at least if trips abroad to cities like Hong Kong and Paris are taken into account. According to Global Refund, a company specializing in tax-free shopping for tourists, the Chinese account for 15% of all luxury items purchased in France but less than 2% of its visitors.
Public display is also a critical consideration in how global brands are repositioning themselves to attract Chinese consumers. Despite China's tea culture, Starbucks successfully established itself as a public venue in which professional tribes gather to proclaim their affiliation with the new-generation elite. Both Pizza Hut and Haagen Dazs have built mega-franchises in China rooted in out-of-home consumption. (The $5 carton of vanilla to be eaten at home is a tough sell in China.)
The second rule is that the benefits of a product should be external, not internal. Even for luxury goods, celebrating individualism -- with familiar Western notions like 'what I want' and 'how I feel' -- doesn't work in China. Automobiles need to make a statement about a man on his way up. BMW, for example, has successfully fused its global slogan of the 'ultimate driving machine' with a Chinese-style declaration of ambition.
Sometimes the difference between internal versus external payoffs can be quite subtle. Spas and resorts do better when they promise not only relaxation but also recharged batteries. Infant formulas must promote intelligence, not happiness. Kids aren't taken to Pizza Hut so that they can enjoy pizza; they are rewarded with academic 'triumph feasts.' Beauty products must help a woman 'move forward.' Even beer must do something. In Western countries, letting the good times roll is enough; in China, pilsner must bring people together, reinforce trust and promote mutual financial gain.
Emotional payoffs must be practical, even in matters of the heart. Valentine's Day is almost as dear to the Chinese as the Lunar New Year, but they view it primarily as an opportunity for men to demonstrate their worthiness and commitment. In the U.S., De Beers's slogan, 'A Diamond is Forever,' glorifies eternal romance. In China, the same tagline connotes obligation, a familial covenant -- rock solid, like the stone itself.
The last rule for positioning a brand in China is that products must address the need to navigate the crosscurrents of ambition and regimentation, of standing out while fitting in. Men want to succeed without violating the rules of the game, which is why wealthier individuals prefer Audis or BMWs over flashy Maseratis.
Luxury buyers want to demonstrate mastery of the system while remaining understated, hence the appeal of Mont Blanc's six-point logo or Bottega Veneta's signature cross weave -- both conspicuously discreet. Young consumers want both stylishness and acceptance, so they opt for more conventionally hip fashion brands like Converse and Uniqlo.
Chinese parents are drawn to brands promising 'stealthy learning' for their children: intellectual development masked as fun. Disney will succeed more as an educational franchise -- its English learning centers are going gangbusters -- than as a theme park. McDonald's restaurants, temples of childhood delight in the West, have morphed into scholastic playgrounds in China: Happy Meals include collectible Snoopy figurines wearing costumes from around the world, while the McDonald's website, hosted by Professor Ronald, offers Happy Courses for multiplication. Skippy peanut butter combines 'delicious peanut taste' and 'intelligent sandwich preparation.'
Even China's love affair with Christmas -- with big holiday sales and ubiquitous seasonal music, even in Communist Party buildings -- advances a distinctly Chinese agenda. Santa is a symbol of progress; he represents the country's growing comfort with a new global order, one into which it is determined to assimilate, without sacrificing the national interest. The holiday has become a way to project status in a culture in which individual identity is inextricably linked to external validation.
The American dream -- wealth that culminates in freedom -- is intoxicating for the Chinese. But whereas Americans dream of 'independence,' Chinese crave 'control' of their own destiny and command over the vagaries of daily life. Material similarities between Chinese and Americans mask fundamentally different emotional impulses. If Western brands can learn to meet China's worldview on its own terms, perhaps the West as a whole can too.
Mr. Doctoroff is the author of 'What Chinese Want: Culture, Communism and China's Modern Consumer' and is the North Asia director and Greater China CEO for J. Walter Thompson, whose clients include Starbucks, De Beers and Renren.
Apple has taken China by storm. A Starbucks can be found on practically every major street corner in coastal cities and beyond. From Nike to Buick to Siemens, Chinese consumers actively prefer Western brands over their domestic competitors. The rise of microbloggers, the popularity of rock bands with names like Hutong Fist and Catcher in the Rye, and even the newfound popularity of Christmas all seem to point toward a growing Westernization.
But don't be deceived by appearances. Consumers in China aren't becoming 'Western.' They are increasingly modern and international, but they remain distinctly Chinese. If I've learned anything from my 20 years working as an advertising executive in China, it is that successful Western brands craft their message here to be 'global,' not 'foreign' -- so that they can become vessels of Chinese culture.
Understanding China's consumer culture is a good starting point for understanding the nation itself, as it races toward superpower status. Though the country's economy and society are evolving rapidly, the underlying cultural blueprint has remained more or less constant for thousands of years. China is a Confucian society, a quixotic combination of top-down patriarchy and bottom-up social mobility. Citizens are driven by an ever-present conflict between standing out and fitting in, between ambition and regimentation. In Chinese society, individuals have no identity apart from obligations to, and acknowledgment by, others. The clan and nation are the eternal pillars of identity. Western individualism -- the idea of defining oneself independent of society -- doesn't exist.
Various youth subtribes intermittently bubble to the surface -- see the recent rise of 'vegetable males' (Chinese metrosexuals) and 'Taobao maniacs' (aficionados of the auction website Taobao). But self-expression is generally frowned upon, and societal acknowledgment is still tantamount to success. Liberal arts majors are considered inferior to graduates with engineering or accounting degrees. Few dare to see a psychologist for fear of losing 'face' -- the respect or deference of others -- or being branded sick. Failure to have a child is a grave disappointment.
The speed with which China's citizens have embraced all things digital is one sign that things are in motion in the country. But e-commerce, which has changed the balance of power between retailers and consumers, didn't take off until the Chinese need for reassurance was satisfied. Even when transactions are arranged online, most purchases are completed in person, with shoppers examining the product and handing over their cash offline.
Even digital self-expression needs to be safe, cloaked in anonymity. Social networking sites such as Sina Weibo (a Chinese version of Twitter), Renren and Kaixing Wang (Chinese versions of Facebook) have exploded. But users hide behind avatars and pseudonyms. A survey conducted by the advertising firm JWT, where I work, and IAC, the Internet holding company, found that less than a third of young Americans agreed with the statement 'I feel free to do and say things [online] I wouldn't do or say offline,' and 41% disagreed. Among Chinese respondents, 73% agreed, and just 9% disagreed.
Chinese at all socioeconomic levels try to 'win' -- that is, climb the ladder of success -- while working within the system, not against it. In Chinese consumer culture, there is a constant tension between self-protection and displaying status. This struggle explains the existence of two seemingly conflicting lines of development. On the one hand, we see stratospheric savings rates, extreme price sensitivity and aversion to credit-card interest payments. On the other, there is the Chinese fixation with luxury goods and a willingness to pay as much as 120% of one's yearly income for a car.
Every day, the Chinese confront shredded social safety nets, a lack of institutions that protect individual wealth, contaminated food products and myriad other risks to home and health. The instinct of consumers to project status through material display is counterbalanced by conservative buying behavior. Protective benefits are the primary consideration for consumers. Even high-end paints must establish their lack of toxicity before touting the virtues of colorful self-expression. Safety is a big concern for all car buyers, at either end of the price spectrum.
To win a following among Chinese buyers, brands have to follow three rules. First and most important, products that are consumed in public, directly or indirectly, command huge price premiums relative to goods used in private. The leading mobile phone brands are international. The leading household appliance brands, by contrast, are cheaply priced domestic makers such as TCL, Changhong and Little Swan. According to a study by the U.K.-based retailer B&Q, the average middle-class Chinese spends only $15,000 to fit out a completely bare 1,000-square-foot apartment.
Luxury items are desired more as status investments than for their inherent beauty or craftsmanship. The Chinese are now the world's most avid luxury shoppers, at least if trips abroad to cities like Hong Kong and Paris are taken into account. According to Global Refund, a company specializing in tax-free shopping for tourists, the Chinese account for 15% of all luxury items purchased in France but less than 2% of its visitors.
Public display is also a critical consideration in how global brands are repositioning themselves to attract Chinese consumers. Despite China's tea culture, Starbucks successfully established itself as a public venue in which professional tribes gather to proclaim their affiliation with the new-generation elite. Both Pizza Hut and Haagen Dazs have built mega-franchises in China rooted in out-of-home consumption. (The $5 carton of vanilla to be eaten at home is a tough sell in China.)
The second rule is that the benefits of a product should be external, not internal. Even for luxury goods, celebrating individualism -- with familiar Western notions like 'what I want' and 'how I feel' -- doesn't work in China. Automobiles need to make a statement about a man on his way up. BMW, for example, has successfully fused its global slogan of the 'ultimate driving machine' with a Chinese-style declaration of ambition.
Sometimes the difference between internal versus external payoffs can be quite subtle. Spas and resorts do better when they promise not only relaxation but also recharged batteries. Infant formulas must promote intelligence, not happiness. Kids aren't taken to Pizza Hut so that they can enjoy pizza; they are rewarded with academic 'triumph feasts.' Beauty products must help a woman 'move forward.' Even beer must do something. In Western countries, letting the good times roll is enough; in China, pilsner must bring people together, reinforce trust and promote mutual financial gain.
Emotional payoffs must be practical, even in matters of the heart. Valentine's Day is almost as dear to the Chinese as the Lunar New Year, but they view it primarily as an opportunity for men to demonstrate their worthiness and commitment. In the U.S., De Beers's slogan, 'A Diamond is Forever,' glorifies eternal romance. In China, the same tagline connotes obligation, a familial covenant -- rock solid, like the stone itself.
The last rule for positioning a brand in China is that products must address the need to navigate the crosscurrents of ambition and regimentation, of standing out while fitting in. Men want to succeed without violating the rules of the game, which is why wealthier individuals prefer Audis or BMWs over flashy Maseratis.
Luxury buyers want to demonstrate mastery of the system while remaining understated, hence the appeal of Mont Blanc's six-point logo or Bottega Veneta's signature cross weave -- both conspicuously discreet. Young consumers want both stylishness and acceptance, so they opt for more conventionally hip fashion brands like Converse and Uniqlo.
Chinese parents are drawn to brands promising 'stealthy learning' for their children: intellectual development masked as fun. Disney will succeed more as an educational franchise -- its English learning centers are going gangbusters -- than as a theme park. McDonald's restaurants, temples of childhood delight in the West, have morphed into scholastic playgrounds in China: Happy Meals include collectible Snoopy figurines wearing costumes from around the world, while the McDonald's website, hosted by Professor Ronald, offers Happy Courses for multiplication. Skippy peanut butter combines 'delicious peanut taste' and 'intelligent sandwich preparation.'
Even China's love affair with Christmas -- with big holiday sales and ubiquitous seasonal music, even in Communist Party buildings -- advances a distinctly Chinese agenda. Santa is a symbol of progress; he represents the country's growing comfort with a new global order, one into which it is determined to assimilate, without sacrificing the national interest. The holiday has become a way to project status in a culture in which individual identity is inextricably linked to external validation.
The American dream -- wealth that culminates in freedom -- is intoxicating for the Chinese. But whereas Americans dream of 'independence,' Chinese crave 'control' of their own destiny and command over the vagaries of daily life. Material similarities between Chinese and Americans mask fundamentally different emotional impulses. If Western brands can learn to meet China's worldview on its own terms, perhaps the West as a whole can too.
Mr. Doctoroff is the author of 'What Chinese Want: Culture, Communism and China's Modern Consumer' and is the North Asia director and Greater China CEO for J. Walter Thompson, whose clients include Starbucks, De Beers and Renren.
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