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We meet up with the attire corporate’s logo boss, Eric Katzenberg, to listen to how it’s increasing into way of life with out forsaking its army, regulation enforcement and public protection group of workers target market.
When Eric Katzenberg says he is aware of the 5.11 logo inside of out, he’s no longer kidding. As head of brand name and storytelling on the tactical attire corporate, he has no longer handiest led its business plan, he additionally volunteers as a reserve deputy sheriff in Orange County. In different phrases, he doesn’t simply put on the equipment, he works in it.
We stuck up with him on the ANA Masters of B2B Marketing Conference, the place 5.11 was once making an extraordinary however strategic play: taking a logo solid within the fires of B2B to the wider client marketplace. “This isn’t a revolution,” says Katzenberg. “It’s an evolution. We’re not changing who we are – we’re just bringing what we do to more people.”
Want to head deeper? Ask The Drum
A logo born at the rockface
5.11’s tale starts, improbably, on a cliff. The logo was once at the start based by way of mythical Yosemite climber Royal Robbins, who wanted harder trousers than denim may be offering. “Royal was climbing in blue jeans,” says Katzenberg. “So he created a super-durable, functional pair of pants that could handle the impossible – a 5.11-level climb.”
(In case you’re no longer fluent in hiking lingo, 5.11 is a near-impossible grade, “but every now and then somebody actually does it,” provides Katzenberg.)
Those similar pants have been in the end followed by way of the FBI’s coaching academy and phrase unfold rapid. From there, the logo pivoted to supplying equipment for regulation enforcement, army and emergency services and products – constructing a industry that now spans masses of SKUs, with businesses around the globe kitted out in 5.11.
If you appeared carefully on the socks of the Secret Service brokers, as an example, within the iconic image of Trump within the aftermath of being shot, they have been 5:11s. But they paintings similarly neatly in much less dramatic scenarios, like an interview with The Drum. Katzenberg was once dressed in a couple as he spoke to us, in addition to 5:11 denims and a blouse.
‘I probably sold 150 pairs just from wearing them’
Ask Katzenberg what makes 5.11 standard and he received’t level to advert campaigns, he’ll level to the equipment. “If you’re thinking about your boots, that’s a problem. You need to be thinking about the situation in front of you, not your feet.”
The logo’s proprietary Flex-Tac cloth – a robotically coiled fibre with stretch however no sag – is a living proof. It’s now usual factor for Las Vegas Metro PD, which lately swapped out its 80-year-old black wool uniforms for a 5.11 refresh. “Imagine wearing black wool in 110-degree Vegas heat,” Katzenberg laughs. “Our gear looks sharp, but it moves with you. It doesn’t fade, doesn’t rip and just works.”
Katzenberg must know – he wears it on responsibility himself. “I’ve probably sold 150 pairs of boots just by being asked, ‘What are those?’”
Storytelling from the frontlines
What units 5.11 aside, regardless that, is the way it places the wearer on the center of its logo. “We don’t use models in our campaigns, we use real officers, wearing our gear on real assignments, during real shoots.”
That content material – shot in collaboration with businesses like Code and Theory – is used no longer simply to promote uniforms, however to empower the businesses themselves with PR subject material, recruiting property and native satisfaction.
It’s storytelling, sure – but additionally community-building.
5.11 is going mainstream (quietly)
While the corporate has at all times had a shopper base, particularly amongst outside, journey and health communities, it’s now leaning in. “We’ve had retail stores for years,” says Katzenberg. “But recently we revamped several in Southern California to focus more on adventure and everyday wear.”
The purpose? To make 5.11 as synonymous with useful, sturdy equipment as North Face or Patagonia – with the exception of this time, grounded in real-life efficiency. “We make cool, tough shit,” he grins. “And people are starting to notice.”
Take health. 5.11’s weight vest, in line with a ballistic plate service, was once at the start designed for Navy Seal workout routines like ‘The Murph’ and is now a staple in CrossFit competitions reminiscent of Wodapalooza. “We redesigned it for functional fitness,” he explains, “but the DNA is still the same.”
A uniform for everybody?
From regulation enforcement to Jeep safaris in Moab and off-grid expeditions by the use of Overland Expo, 5.11 is increasing into way of life with out shedding its tactical edge. “Fitness, adventure, everyday casual – people already wear our stuff for all of it. Now we’re just speaking to them more clearly.”
That method product growth, new branding (watch this house) and a shift in tone that balances the pro with the aspirational.
He’s transparent about something, regardless that: “We’re not leaving the people who brought us to the party behind. Our B2B customers – the people in uniform – will always come first. But we believe everyone, one day, might want to wear 5.11.”
Boots-on-ground, eyes-on logo
Katzenberg’s weekend shifts as a deputy sheriff aren’t simply PR-friendly anecdotes. They’re a part of a larger project to stay the logo original. “If I don’t understand how our product works in the field, how can I tell those stories?”
One of his proudest moments was once a brief documentary at the 20th anniversary of 9/11, created with Code and Theory, that includes first-hand accounts from responders at Ground Zero. “It became a piece of living history,” he says quietly. “That’s the kind of brand we want to be.”
In an business stuffed with jargon, Katzenberg cuts to the chase: “If you ever get stuck in a ditch, you want someone wearing 5.11 coming round the corner.”
