Pitching products by tying house parties to social media
The rollout of a new Velveeta dinner kit might not seem like cause for celebration, but spurred by social media and the chance to try the product first, some 5,000 people threw parties recently in honor of Cheesy Skillets.
Far from a spontaneous show of affection for the latest incarnation of Kraft Food Inc.’s venerable processed cheese product, the house parties represented a carefully orchestrated national campaign marrying Tupperware kitsch and Twitter cool for a new generation of in-home marketers.
“It’s Velveeta, it’s food,” said Delia Canino, 37, of Chicago, a stay-at-home mother hosting her first party. “I figured it’s a good excuse to get together with my girlfriends.”
The event’s organizer, New York-based House Party Inc., is finding success by tying an old concept — the living room pitch — to social media. Working with everyone from Microsoft Corp. to Ford Motor Co., and feting everything from diapers to cocktails, the firm offers free product packages through its website, blogs, Facebook, Twitter and other digital avenues.
House Party, founded in 2005, has built a database of more than 1 million would-be hosts, mostly 30-something moms, who eagerly compete to throw parties. The firm estimates it will organize 90 events and some 225,000 parties this year, up from about 85,000 parties two years ago. A typical eight- to 12-week campaign costs about $200,000. The company projects revenue of about $20 million this year and hopes to reach $50 million by 2014.
“This is a wonderful way to either augment advertising and marketing that’s already in the field or treat it as its own separate marketing entity where on that singular Saturday, 75,000 people will be advocating, trying and talking about Velveeta,” said Michael Perry, House Party’s CEO.
Recent offerings run the gamut from the Pull-Ups Potty Dance to the Redbook Happy Hour, with tens of thousands of applicants vying to host several thousand parties. The payout is simply a chance to sample new products before they are available to those not lucky enough to make the guest list.
A frequent client, Kraft used the house parties to introduce its four Velveeta Cheesy Skillets dinner kits, which are slated for a national rollout this month. The product, a complete meal made with meat, is an ambitious attempt to move Velveeta, long relegated as a side dish, to the center of the table.
Some 25,000 hopefuls vied to host the parties, helping to boost Velveeta Facebook followers from 17,000 to more than 22,000 during the campaign. A post-party poll over which flavor is favored — chicken and broccoli was in the lead as of Friday — is keeping the conversation going.
“They’re talking about it, which is great,” said Kraft Brand Manager Adam Grablick. “There’s just post after post, and some rich stuff.”
The concept owes its lineage, at least in some part, to Tupperware, which has used home parties to sell airtight plastic containers since 1948. The Florida-based company still employs the durable direct marketing strategy, with some 2.6 million hosts generating global revenue of about $2.3 billion last year, according to the company’s annual report.
While acknowledging the obvious comparison, Perry said the difference is evident the moment a guest enters the door.
“We separate ourselves from Tupperware in the sense that we don’t really allow selling,” Perry said. “What we want are people trying, using and getting a real hands-on experience with a brand, an entertainment property, a product, and then from there, driving them in-store or through activation or other couponing, to purchase.”
For clients, the lure goes beyond driving more sales. It is the chance to go viral through YouTube videos, blog rants and the inexplicable zeitgeist that defines social media.
Although newly announced parties can receive enough host applications in a matter of hours, specific demographics and complex vetting criteria can stretch the process, adding to the campaign’s buzz.
“We’re really looking for viral spread and social spread, so we leave it open,” said Perry. “We let them compete and vie for it. Just because I’ve got 5,000 people that fit the basic demo, it doesn’t mean I have the right 5,000 people that will advocate on behalf of the brand.”
For many hosts, alcohol is a key ingredient in livening up the festivities, raising at least the specter of overserved guests brawling in the backyard during a diaper rollout.
“I don’t have any reports of a party gone bad,” Perry said. “We’re very careful to ensure that we’re selecting the best hosts to do the right thing.”
Melanie Schultz, 28, of Bolingbrook, Ill., a financial representative and mother of a 4-year-old, hosted one of 1,800 Expo Washable Markers parties in June. Billed as the first dry erase marker that works on a whiteboard but won’t permanently stain other surfaces, the concept was tested out by 10 moms and their kids in Schultz’s den.
Schultz was hooked on the house party concept after attending a Febreze event hosted by her mother-in-law last June. Since then, she has hosted four parties herself — everything from Pampers to Jack Daniels — with a nearly 50 percent acceptance rate on her applications.
Although the product was introduced over a year ago, it was something of a coming-out party for Expo Washable Markers, part of Newell Rubbermaid Office Products Group in Oak Brook, Ill.
“It was the first time we’ve taken the approach of forcing the product into consumers’ hands,” said Steve Gradman, marketing director for Expo Washable Markers.
Followers on the Expo Washable Markers Facebook page have more than doubled during the house party campaign, and Gradman is hopeful it will knit together multimedia efforts and create some traction.
“It was a very affordable vehicle for the quality of impact and impression you get,” Gradman said.
The Velveeta party was a breakthrough of sorts for Canino, who failed to make the cut for several other events, including a Budweiser backyard bash set for Fourth of July weekend.
On a warm Saturday evening, eight women gathered around her kitchen table in Garfield Ridge, a modest Chicago neighborhood tucked under the jet wash of Midway International Airport. At the center were four casserole dishes filled with Velveeta Cheesy Skillets, which Canino and her neighbor, Esther Giler, 34, had prepared from the four box dinners proudly displayed on an adjacent countertop. An assortment of potluck additions including roasted chicken, veggie pizza, and a fruit and vegetable platter rounded out the menu, with beer and spiked lemonade the libations of choice.
With the men banished from the premises and the children playing noisily in the backyard, the women nibbled and dished, impressed with both the food and the concept.
“These would be good as side dishes or even appetizers,” said Canino’s sister, Christina Duran, 36, undermining Velveeta’s main course aspiration.
Parting gifts included a shopping bag, a memo kit and $1-off coupons, which everyone pledged to use after sampling the meals. Most said that traditional advertising, even with coupons, wouldn’t have prompted them to buy the dinner kits, without the taste test.
Giler attended a Tupperware party hosted by her aunt several weeks ago and left with $21 worth of plastic cups with lids. Planning to buy the Ultimate Cheeseburger Mac dinner kit, she said the freebies and dinner made the Velveeta party more palatable.
“Here at least I get to try it out,” said Giler. “If I like it, I’ll get it and if I don’t, I won’t. There’s no obligation.”
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