Michelin man

source : (logodesignlove, 2012).

No sooner was the Michelin Man born when he began to play a major role for the company: it was he who presented the products and advised and assisted motorists, becoming the brand’s worldwide ambassador.

But the Michelin Man learned to change with the times. In the 1920s he discarded his pince-nez eyeglasses, and also gave up his cigar (at the dawn of the motor age these appendages had helped him appeal to the very small, wealthy section of society that had the power to buy a car)

Compared to the cuddly mascot that contemporary audiences are accustomed to, early iterations of the Michelin Man come as something of a surprise.

The aim of all advertising is first to create recognition for a brand, and then, ideally, affection and loyalty. This can be achieved in a multitude of ways, but one of the best examples can be found in a symbol that is now 116 years old: the Michelin Man, or Bibendum, as he was formally known.

He is an unusual figure in logo design. A light-hearted, jolly character, the Michelin Man is more of a mascot for the brand, albeit a rather strange one constructed solely from tires. In this he is very much a product of his time, as design historian and curator Alain Weill suggests: “Using specific characters was the trend–the little girl for Menier, the Pierrot for Cointreau, and so on. The great thing with the chubby little man made out of tires is that he could be represented in various situations; the different possible versions is my favorite thing about him.”

 Such is the public warmth toward the Michelin Man that he has on occasion broken out of the realms of advertising and entered other forms of popular culture. The company recognized this early on, and put him at the centre of their flagship Bibendum Building in London, built in 1911. Certain versions of Goscinny and Uderzo’s comic book, Asterix in Switzerland (including the English translation), see him make a guest appearance as a chariot wheel dealer; more recently he played a key role in the Oscar-winning animated short, Logorama, which saw two Michelin cops hunting down a villainous Ronald McDonald. 

From the 1930s onwards, Michelin made increasingly less use of outside artists. As a result, images of the Michelin Man became more standardised, although there were country-specific variants. Adapting to the evolution of tyres, his rings became thicker and the character dropped his wealthy image to move closer to a broader customer base.

The look of the branding mascot had changed from the 1930’s onwards as his ‘rings became thicker and the character dropped his wealthy image to move closer to a broader customer base’ (logodesignlove, 2012).

The re design of the mascot has enabled the mascot to stay relevant, due to

Paola Antonelli, senior curator in the department of architecture and design at The Museum of Modern Art and notable Bibendum fan, points out that wide-ranging identity systems are today becoming the norm, instead of the single logo or mascot. “At that time, you used to have the newspaper, you had your garage, and you had packaging,” she says. “In a way, it was a set of applications that could be contained in a manual. Now, it’s much more complicated because the mediums are so dynamic and diverse.” That Bibendum is still with us in the 21st century, happily drinking up those obstacles–though no longer shouting about doing so–is testament to the rewards of sticking with a brilliant idea.