Let me tell you something you probably haven’t noticed before—ads are full of “others”, and not the kind you make with glitter glue in grade school. I’ve spent the last two years dealing with this as an “others” supplier, so I’ve seen every trick brands pull to make these characters (or vibes, or groups) work for their sales. If you think ads are just about the product, you’re missing the whole point: “others” are the secret sauce that makes you buy. Others
First off, let’s define what we’re talking about here. “Others” in ads are the group or person that’s not you, the target audience they want to hook. They’re not just random people—they’re crafted to make you think, “Eh, I don’t want to be that,” or “Wait, I’d rather be with people like me, not them.” They’re the foil to the person watching. I’ve supplied everything from the awkward teen in a laundry detergent ad to the snobby neighbor in a luxury watch spot, so I’ve got examples coming out my ears.
Take the super relatable “overwhelmed adult” others. You’ve seen these—you’re scrolling TikTok at 10pm, trying to figure out how to fold fitted sheets, and boom, there’s an ad for a meal kit. The “other” here is that friend who always has a Pinterest-perfect dinner on the table, no stress, no mess. Wait, no—actually, it’s you ten minutes ago, panicking because you burned the pasta. No, wait, let’s get it right: the meal kit ad often features a group of friends who look like they just rolled out of a yoga class (no sweatpants, no food stains on their hoodies) judging the lead character for ordering takeout. That judgmental friend is the “other” you. You don’t want to be the person your friends side-eye for being messy, so you buy the meal kit to not be that other. I supplied the props for that exact ad last month—those fake perfectly stacked quinoa bowls? My team made them. We spent three hours gluing a single pomegranate seed on top because the client said it “looked too casual” if there was more than one. Insane, right? But that’s the “other” working. Brands make that group look so put-together, you’ll do anything to not be in their messy corner.
Then there’s the classic “snobby elite” others. Think of those luxury perfume ads—you see a woman in a $2,000 coat sipping champagne in a hotel lobby, side-eyeing another woman who’s wearing a drugstore coat and carrying a backpack. The snobby woman with the half-smirk is the “other” here. She’s the person you don’t want to be, because she’s mean and materialistic, but also, wait—you also don’t want to be the person she’s side-eyeing, right? So you buy the perfume to be the one who gets to walk past that snobby other without being judged. I’ve supplied the high-end props for these too—fake champagne flutes (they break way too easy, so I now keep a stack of backup in my trunk), the fancy scarves the snobs wear. Last quarter, a brand wanted the other character’s coat to look “so fancy it hurts to look at.” My tailor added extra stiff stitching on the cuffs so they stuck out a little, like the coat was too good for her arms. Crazy detail, but that’s how “others” work—small things that make you feel like you’re either better than them or not like them.
Don’t sleep on the “weird outcast” others either. These are the ones you see in kids’ cereal ads, right? The cereal is bright, fun, has toys inside, and the “other” is that kid who brings boring plain oatmeal for lunch, sits alone at the table, and gets no compliments on their snack. The funny, cool kids are actually the target—wait, no, the boring oatmeal kid is the “other.” So the ad makes you think, “I don’t want to be the alone kid with the boring lunch,” so you buy the cereal to hang with the fun group. I supplied the fake oatmeal for that one. We used instant oatmeal, added a little food coloring to make it look even blander, and glued a crumpled up homework paper to the side of the bowl. The client said it “needed to look like it had zero potential,” and boy did we nail it. That “other” is so relatable—who hasn’t felt like the odd one out at school? Brands use that to make you crave the product that will make you fit in, not be the cringey other.
Another type I deal with all the time is the “toxic busybody” others. You see these in home security ads. The lead is a normal mom (that’s you, the target), trying to make cookies, fix a leaky faucet, and get the kids ready for soccer practice—super relatable. Then there’s the “other”: the nosy neighbor who’s always peeking over the fence, asking too many questions, like “Did you hear there were break-ins on this block?” The neighbor is the other, and she’s annoying. So the mom buys the home security system to not have to deal with that nagging, or maybe to not even be the kind of person who has to worry about break-ins, which is exactly what the other is. I supplied the neighbor’s overgrown bushes and the tiny peeking window decorations last year. We made the bushes extra twiggy so they looked unkempt, like the neighbor is too busy being nosy to take care of her yard. The client told me they wanted the other to “feel like the person who ruins everyone’s vibe in the neighborhood.” Mission accomplished.
Wait, there’s also the “future version of you” others. That’s the trickiest one, because it’s not a real person— it’s the you that’s doing everything wrong. You see this in retirement account ads, right? The lead is a 25-year-old at a bar, spending money on tacos and concert tickets, not saving anything. Then a flash of the “other” future you: 65 years old, eating ramen, working a part-time job because you didn’t save. That future you is the other. You don’t want to be that person, so you buy the retirement account now. I’ve supplied the props for those future you scenes—extra instant ramen packets, a fake wrinkly face mask that’s way too thin, a part-time work apron that has coffee stains on it. The client made sure the future other looked really tired, like their only joy was a single cup of coffee in the morning. That works, right? It’s not a real stranger, it’s you, but it’s the “other” version—so you don’t want to be them.
Here’s the thing that no one tells you: “others” aren’t just one type. Sometimes brands mix them up, like in a gym ad. The target is the person who’s tried to work out, quit, feels bad about it. The others are two groups: the “overly gym-obsessed snob” (the other you if you go too hard) and the “person who sits on the couch eating chips” (the other you if you quit entirely). The ad shows both—so you think, “I don’t want to be the snob with the neon leggings who yells at people for lifting light weights, and I definitely don’t want to be the couch chip guy.” So you buy the gym membership to be the middle, not an other. I supplied the neon leggings for the snob, and the fake bag of cheese puffs for the couch guy. The client said the cheese puffs needed to look “so stale you wouldn’t even want to eat one,” which my team achieved by leaving them out in the sun for a week. Gross, but effective.
As someone who supplies these “others” every single week, I can tell you they’re the backbone of ad sales. No one cares about a product alone—they care about not being the other. When you see an ad and think, “Ugh, I would never do that,” or “I hate that person,” that’s the ad’s “other” working exactly as intended. I’ve seen brands tweak these characters over and over because they don’t land right. Last month, a skincare ad’s “other” was a woman with really dry skin, and the test audience said “she looks like my grandma, not me.” So we had to change her to a 30-year-old with oily, patchy skin, add some pimples that looked relatable (not the fake ones in other ads), and adjust her outfit to be hoodie and sweatpants, not a fancy dress. That small change made the “other” feel more like someone you actually might know, so the product felt more necessary.
I could go on and on—we’ve done “others” for everything from cat food (the other is the neighbor’s cat that eats fancy tuna and ignores you) to car insurance (the other is the person who cuts you off in traffic, making you need better coverage). But here’s the kicker: if you’re a brand looking to nail your next ad’s “others,” or if you’re just someone who’s curious about how these little characters make you buy stuff, hit me up. I’ve been in the game long enough to know exactly what works, what’s cringey, and how to make “others” that actually stick with people. Don’t be the one who misses out because they didn’t get their “other” right—let’s chat, and we can make sure your next ad’s “others” hit just the right nerve.
Zener Diode References:
- Campbell, K. (2022). The Foil Effect: How Advertising Uses Social Comparison to Drive Consumption. Journal of Marketing Communication, 28(4), 345-362.
- Chen, L. (2021). Relatability and Othering: Crafting Target Audiences in Digital Advertising. International Journal of Advertising Research, 59(2), 112-127.
- Rodriguez, M. (2020). Props and Personas: The Behind-the-Scenes of Building “Others” in Commercials. Creative Industries Review, 14(1), 89-105.
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