January 02, 2009 10:26 pm
—
The world has seen its share of great magicians. David Copperfield, Houdini, Harry Blackstone Sr. and so on.
But they’re all pikers compared to the greatest illusionist of our time.
That would be Jimmy Buffett, who pulls no rabbits out of his hat, saws no women in half, doesn’t even snatch quarters from the ears of bug-eyed kids.
He is, however, the guru of an incredibly lucrative magic act. A sort of prestidigitational Ponzi scheme, if you will, to separate aging dreamers from their money.
What kick-started the singer’s golden goose, of course, is his 1977 hit “Margaritaville,” an ode to laid-back lifestyling in a boozy tropical paradise.
Little did he know that a huge segment of baby boomers would make him their lifelong symbol of lives they once had, thought they had or still aspire to have.
It’s a simple, generic American daydream, but it’s made the 62-year-old Buffett fabulously wealthy.
There are his sold-out concerts with triple-digit ticket prices, his restaurant chain, his beer, his clothing line, even his salsa and tortillas at Wal-Mart.
Ostensibly, he wants to be known as an artist and musician but, to use a Margaritaville-like metaphor, that tequila bottle was kicked to the curb long ago.
Buffett has become an iconic brand, which means that his mere name — and all it implies to the dreamers — is all that’s required to generate geysers of revenue.
But here’s where the sleight of hand comes in, and why Buffett is so world-class at it.
His Midas touch comes from offering fans an accessible fantasy, even though it’s a fantasy for which he possesses no patent, no monopoly, no ownership whatsoever.
Yet millions of people look to him, and his products, to provide them with that which they can conjure for free, requiring only a smidgen of imagination.
Close your eyes. You’re on a beach. Drink in hand. Soft, wafting sea breezes. Your work cubicle at the bank is a million miles away. There. How hard is that?
You don’t need a 62-year-old “brand” to get you this; all you need is a few brain cells pulling their own weight.
But, apparently, that’s not in the cards for Buffett’s middle-age minions who think the only true path to paradise is trod in flip-flops bearing the Margaritaville label.
Jimmy Buffet is laughing all the way to the beach. Good for him.
Brian Ojanpa is a Free Press staff writer. Call him at 344-6316 or e-mail bojanpa@mankatofreepress.com .
Copyright © 1999-2008 cnhi, inc.
Photos
