Why I Can’t Stop Thinking About the Bizarre Brilliance of Conference Swag
Let’s talk about the underdog of brand expression: conference swag. Not the tote bags destined for the back seat of your car. I mean the wild, unhinged items that somehow tell you exactly who a company is. I recently came home from a tech event in Wellington with a branded toothbrush stand shaped like a penguin. I didn’t even like penguins before. Now I trust this company with my data.
Here’s the thing. Most companies treat swag as an afterthought, like the meeting notes no one reads. But when done well, it’s a portal. An invitation. A tiny, useful, slightly strange object that makes you go, “Who came up with this?” And then, if it’s really good, “Can I work there?” It’s physical branding you voluntarily take into your home. That’s more attention than an ad ever gets.
There’s creativity to be mined here. In Japan, a luggage brand gave away compact tools for measuring suitcase dimensions against airline rules. I’ve used mine twice. Once in Auckland, once at home just to check something. I remember their name. Meanwhile, a local startup once handed me a fidget ring with their logo etched on the inside. I didn’t get what they did, but I still wear it. Turns out they build cyber security tools. For fingers, apparently.
The best part is the quiet absurdity. Swag exists in a weird twilight zone between promotional and personal. We take it, use it, then forget who gave it to us six months later, only to rediscover it in a drawer and feel oddly fond. The challenge for marketers is not to go louder or shinier. It’s to go weirder, smarter, more specific. Give me something I didn’t know I needed. Or at least something I can use to brush my teeth next to a small, smiling penguin.
Here’s the thing. Most companies treat swag as an afterthought, like the meeting notes no one reads. But when done well, it’s a portal. An invitation. A tiny, useful, slightly strange object that makes you go, “Who came up with this?” And then, if it’s really good, “Can I work there?” It’s physical branding you voluntarily take into your home. That’s more attention than an ad ever gets.
There’s creativity to be mined here. In Japan, a luggage brand gave away compact tools for measuring suitcase dimensions against airline rules. I’ve used mine twice. Once in Auckland, once at home just to check something. I remember their name. Meanwhile, a local startup once handed me a fidget ring with their logo etched on the inside. I didn’t get what they did, but I still wear it. Turns out they build cyber security tools. For fingers, apparently.
The best part is the quiet absurdity. Swag exists in a weird twilight zone between promotional and personal. We take it, use it, then forget who gave it to us six months later, only to rediscover it in a drawer and feel oddly fond. The challenge for marketers is not to go louder or shinier. It’s to go weirder, smarter, more specific. Give me something I didn’t know I needed. Or at least something I can use to brush my teeth next to a small, smiling penguin.