First of all, dear readers, apologies for the long break. Both Tom and I have been making major changes in our day jobs, which has resulted in a bit of disruption in our writing schedules. But we're back, in full force, with many things to say. Be warned.
I have to start this post by saying that, in case you haven't noticed, I am an Apple junkie. This blog is written on my beloved 12" Powerbook, one of five Macintoshes in various states of use/repair in my home. I am the proud owner of a second-generation iPod (at last count, there were also five iPods in my home), as well as a newly-minted 3G iPhone which, well, sleeps with me at night. I set up my first home Airport network in 2000, when it was stilll a novelty that I could access the Internet in my backyard: the neighbors came to gawk. I've been a devotee since I hauled my first Mac -- a Classic-- home by the handle in the top of its case, to work on my SimCity metropolis, which is still preserved on a 3-1/2" floppy disk somewhere. Yeah, I drank the Koolaid.
And whether or not Steve Jobs is healthy is very important to me. Because Apple is not a technology brand, it's a fashion brand. And the heads of fashion brands are always crucial to their success in the market.
Now, Mr. Jobs and the Apple Board may disagree, taking the point of view that Apple is a technology company -- perhaps the world's premier consumer technology company, as a matter of fact. But a great deal of Apple's current leadership is based not on true technological innovation, but on vertical market integration, and on style.
Case in point: the iPod. There were certainly digital music listening devices before the iPod arrived. But they weren't as sexy, and filling them with music required a certain facility with "ripping" software. Apple's genius lay in making the music easy to access, assuaging the music industry's fears of piracy with long-extant DRM technology. Once it had a lock on this vertically-integrated market, Apple continued to rev the devices, so that having the latest and hottest became a mark of well ... style.
Now, I have to admit that there is some true technological innovation going on in the iPhone: that fancy Minority Report touchscreen is a wonder to behold. But there are limitations as well - email that doesn't leverage the capabilities of an Exchange server, voicemail that doesn't work with my Bluetooth headset (a true problem in now hands-free California). RIM's long-existing Blackberry doesn't have these issues. But it's not as sexy, not worth a four-hour wait in line just to be one of the first (and for a while, the only) people to get their hands on the device. And I haven't even talked about my beloved Macs, which can cost as much as 50% more than equivalent Windows machines.
So, who exactly is the source of all this style? The candy-colored original iMacs, the flat-as-an-envelope MacBook Air, the iPod that clips to your lapel? As far as the market is concerned, it's Mr. Jobs.
Remember Gianni Versace? He of the Medusa-head buttons and British-Empire-worthy shoulder pads? His murder sent shockwaves through the fashion world, and damaged his company virtually beyond repair. Granted, Versace at that point was a much smaller, private and probably less-distributed company than Apple. But it was iconic enough to inform popular culture and to define status in the way that Apple does. (Don't believe me? Watch Showgirls.)
The market worries about Mr. Jobs the same way. Like it or not, he's an icon of style, a symbol for the fashion trend called Apple. (No "Computer" in the name now, fittingingly.) Even his trademark black turtlenecks and jeans have mythic status.
Perhaps my nephew showed it best when I asked him what kind of computer he had. "A PC," he said. "I hate Macs." But he wouldn't be caught dead without his iPod. It's just not cool.
Recent Comments