Purple Cow

Transform Your Business by Being Remarkable

A short argument that marketing now starts with building something people choose to talk about, not with buying attention.

Seth Godin is an American writer and marketer who has published many short, punchy books on business. He started out in the early days of the internet, working with direct marketing, and later turned to writing and speaking. Purple Cow, published in 2003, is one of his best known. It has the feel of a long essay, and it is easy to read in an afternoon.

The title comes from a simple image. Imagine driving through the countryside. At first, the cows are charming. After a short while, they are all the same, and you stop noticing them. Now imagine you see a purple cow. You would stare, you would talk about it, and you would tell your family later. Godin says that is the position every business should aim for.

The book argues that the old ways of getting attention are fading. People are busy, they have too many choices, and they have learned to ignore advertising. In that world, the best way to grow is to make something so different that people mention it to others without being asked.

Owners return to this book because it speaks to a frustration. You have a good product, you spend on promotion, and the results are modest. Godin says the problem may not be the promotion. It may be that the product is too ordinary to talk about.

This summary is in our own words and arranged by idea. Godin writes in short bursts with many examples, and we have left most of them aside. If the argument appeals to you, the original will give you more colour than we can.

Being safe is the risky choice

Godin begins with an uncomfortable claim. For decades, businesses were taught to be careful. Make a product that is good enough, price it sensibly, and avoid offending anyone. Godin argues that this advice no longer works, and that the safe path has become the dangerous one.

The reason is that most markets are crowded with good products. If your product is good, so are your competitors', and customers cannot tell the difference. They choose on price, habit or convenience. You compete on thin margins, and any change in the market can hurt you.

In such a market, the middle is the worst place to stand. Products that are simply fine do not get talked about. They blend into the landscape, and the customer's eye passes over them. Godin says being very good is no longer enough, because very good is what everyone is trying to be.

The book proposes that the real risk lies in being invisible. A business that takes no chances may feel secure, but it is exposed to the day a cheaper rival appears. By contrast, a business that offers something distinct has a reason for people to stay.

This affects how an owner sees risk. When you hesitate over a bold idea, you probably count what could go wrong. Godin asks you to count the cost of doing nothing. If your offer is just like everyone else's, what happens when the next competitor arrives with a lower price?

Imagine a Nagpur stationery shop that stocks the same items as every other shop on the road. The owner is polite and the prices are fair. Yet customers do not remember the shop, and foot traffic is falling as online stores grow. In Godin's terms, this shop is a brown cow in a field of brown cows.

Now imagine the owner reshaping the shop for one group, such as art students, with a wide choice of fine papers and a table for trying pens. The shop becomes smaller in appeal but sharper. Students tell each other about it. That is the first step towards a purple cow.

The shift is mostly one of attitude. Instead of asking how to avoid mistakes, ask how to be worth noticing. Mistakes will happen either way. The only question is whether they come with a chance of standing out.

None of this means recklessness. Godin wants experiments that are bold in idea and modest in cost. The risk to avoid is the risk of doing nothing for years.

What remarkable really means

Godin plays on the word remarkable. He asks you to take it literally, as something worth making a remark about. If a customer would not mention your product to a friend, it is not remarkable, however good it may be.

This definition is useful because it moves the judgement away from you. It does not matter whether you think your offer is outstanding. What matters is whether your customers feel moved to comment. The test is what people say, not what you believe.

It is also a practical test. You can ask customers directly. What would you tell a friend about us? If the answers are bland, such as good service or fair price, that tells you something. These are the things every business says. A remarkable business would draw a more specific and surprising reply.

Godin points out that remarkable does not have to mean expensive or complicated. It can be a small, clever touch that delights. It can be a way of treating people that others have forgotten. It can be speed, simplicity, generosity or honesty that stands out in an industry used to the opposite.

The idea also frees you from the hunt for a perfect new invention. Often, the purple cow is a modest change in a part of the business that others overlook. A tailor who delivers a finished suit with a hand-written note about how to care for it, or a clinic that sends a clear summary after every visit, may be more memorable than a larger competitor with a smart logo.

For an owner, the lesson is to look for the places in your customer's experience where a small surprise would be welcome. Where do customers feel ignored? Where do they feel confused? Where do they have to chase you? Each is a chance to be different.

Imagine a Pune dental clinic that, after a root canal, sends the patient home with a printed card in plain language explaining what to expect and whom to call at night. Patients mention it to relatives. The cost is negligible. The card is a small purple cow.

Godin also warns that remarkable must be relevant to someone. A product that is strange for the sake of strangeness will get attention but not loyalty. The aim is to be remarkable to a specific group for a reason that matters to them.

Ask yourself this week what your customers actually say about you when you are not in the room. If you do not know, find out. It is the clearest measure of whether you are remarkable.

Why interrupting strangers works less well

A large part of the book is about the decline of mass advertising. Godin describes an old model in which a company made an average product for an average customer and then bought attention through advertising. Television, radio and print reached large audiences at a reasonable price. The model worked well for decades.

He argues that this model is breaking. People have more choices than ever and less time to look at them. They have learned to tune out messages that interrupt them. The cost of reaching an audience has risen, and the return has fallen.

His point is not that advertising is useless. It is that interruption is no longer a reliable engine of growth. When you pay to reach strangers, you pay again each time. The moment you stop, the attention stops.

A remarkable product, by contrast, earns attention without interruption. People pass it on, and each new customer brings others. The cost of reaching them is much lower. Godin suggests that smart companies will shift money from buying attention to creating things worth noticing.

For an Indian owner, this applies in many forms. A great deal of small business spending goes on hoardings, newspaper inserts, discount offers and boosted posts. Some of it works. A good share does not, and few owners measure it. Godin would ask you to compare what you spend to reach new people with what you spend to give existing customers something to talk about.

He also notes that attention is scarce and expensive when you target the whole market. The average customer is hard to move because they are busy and sceptical. You will do better by reaching those who are actively looking for something new, a theme we will return to.

Imagine a Mumbai caterer who spends heavily on advertising at wedding fairs. Results are uneven. If that caterer instead invested in a distinctive service, such as a tasting evening for the family with a menu tailored to their region, guests would speak of it for months. The next bookings would come from those conversations.

The lesson is not to abandon every form of promotion. It is to change the balance. Treat advertising as something that amplifies a good offer, not as a substitute for one. If you advertise something unremarkable, you pay to tell people about something they will forget.

A useful habit is to track where your new customers come from, and ask which came from paid reach and which from conversation. The numbers may shift how you spend your next rupee.

Godin's wider point is that the balance of power has moved towards the customer. They can ignore you, compare you and tell others what they think. Your best response is to give them something worth saying.

Marketing begins at the drawing board

One of the book's most useful ideas is that marketing is not a department that begins after the product is made. It begins when you decide what to make. Godin argues that the product, its price, its packaging and its place in the customer's life are all part of marketing.

He notes that the traditional list of marketing tools, which includes product, price, promotion and others, now has one more item, which is the purple cow itself. The thing you make is the main marketing decision. If you get it right, much else becomes easier. If you get it wrong, no amount of promotion will rescue it.

This shifts the question you ask in product meetings. Instead of asking how to sell what you have, you ask what you could make that people would want to talk about. Instead of asking the marketing team to add a message, you ask the whole company to design something with a built-in reason to be mentioned.

The practical consequence is that product and marketing people must work together from the start. Too often, the factory or the kitchen makes something, and then marketing is told to promote it. Godin suggests that the order be reversed, or at least blended. The market should shape the product, and the product should shape the message.

For an owner, this also changes how you evaluate new ideas. Ask whether a new product or service gives customers a reason to mention it. If not, think about how it could be adjusted. A feature that only matters to you will not carry the message.

He also points out that you can design for sharing. A product that is easy to show, easy to describe and pleasant to recommend will spread more readily. Packaging that looks good in a photograph, a service that makes a good story, or a name that is easy to say all help.

Imagine a Bengaluru bakery launching a new range of regional breads. Instead of making them like every other loaf and then buying posters, the baker designs a small booklet that tells the story of each bread and its village. Customers bring it to friends, and the booklet becomes part of the product.

You can check your own offers with a simple question. If a customer wanted to tell a friend about this, what would they say, and would it be interesting? If you struggle to answer, the product needs more thought.

Godin is not asking you to throw away everything you have. He is asking you to look at it differently. The best marketing is built into what you do, rather than attached to it.

Serve the eager few first

Godin spends time on a question that matters to every owner. Who should you try to reach? His answer runs against the traditional instinct. Do not aim at the average customer. Aim at the small group of people who actively look for new things and are glad to try them.

He describes a spectrum of buyers. At one end are those who adopt new ideas early. At the other end are those who wait until everyone else has done so, and some who never change. The mass market sits in the middle and is hard to move. It follows others, and it usually ignores new products until they have proved themselves.

The conclusion is that the early group is your first market, not the whole population. They are curious, they pay attention, and they enjoy being the first to find something good. If they like your product, they will tell others. If they do not, you will learn quickly.

Targeting the mass market too soon has a cost. You dilute your offer to suit everyone, and you end up with something bland that excites no one. By contrast, serving the eager few lets you be bold. You can design for people who will notice and appreciate the difference.

For an owner, this suggests a different approach to launching anything new. Instead of announcing to the whole city, find the hundred people most likely to care. Offer them something special, ask for feedback and let them shape the next version. Their enthusiasm becomes your marketing.

It also answers a common worry about narrowing. Owners fear that focusing on a small group will limit sales. Godin's view is that it is the quickest way to reach the larger group, because the larger group follows the eager few.

Imagine a Jaipur skincare brand using local ingredients. The founder does not buy a broad campaign. She offers samples to beauticians and a few engaged customers who love trying new products. They give honest feedback, and they tell their clients. Within a year, the brand is visible to a wider audience, and the founder has a product that has been refined by the people who care most.

The same logic applies in business-to-business sales. In any industry, a few buyers enjoy being first. They may run smaller firms or be new to their roles, and they are open to new suppliers. Win them, and their results become your case studies.

Ask yourself who these people are in your market. Name three. If you cannot, you may be marketing to an average that does not exist.

People who spread the word

If the early group matters, then it is worth understanding how ideas move from them to others. Godin uses the word sneezers for people whose recommendations carry weight. They are the ones others turn to when they want advice, and when they speak, people listen.

A sneezer may be a respected local professional, an enthusiastic customer, or a person with a following. What they share is credibility on a topic and a habit of passing things on. A single endorsement from the right person can be worth more than a large advertising budget.

The task of the owner is to identify these people and give them reasons to speak. That means making the product easy to understand and pleasant to recommend. It also means treating these people with respect, by listening to them, thanking them and giving them early access.

Godin stresses that sneezers cannot be bought. If they sense that they are being used, their credibility suffers, and so does yours. They spread what they genuinely like. Your job is to earn that.

He also suggests making it simple to share. A clear, short message is easier to pass on than a complicated one. A product that comes with something worth showing, such as a good story or a striking design, spreads more easily. Remove friction wherever possible.

For an Indian owner, word of mouth has always been powerful, and the digital version is an extension of it. Family, friends, neighbours and trade associations carry trust. The principle is to design your business so that these natural networks work for you.

Imagine a Nagpur interior contractor who completes a house and invites the family to a short walk-through, with tea, so they can show friends and relatives. He sends a few photographs the next day, ready to forward. The family becomes a sneezer, and the contractor receives two enquiries within a month.

It is worth noting that spreading is not automatic. You must give people a reason and a method. Without a reason, they will not speak. Without a method, they will forget.

To apply this, list the five people whose opinions most influence your market. Ask what you would have to do for them to speak well of you. Then look at your best current customers. Which of them naturally tells others? Ask how you could make that easier.

The obsessed niche

Godin introduces a word borrowed from Japanese, otaku, to describe people who are intensely absorbed in a particular subject. They know the details, follow the news, and look for the best thing in their field. They may be few in number, but they care a great deal.

These customers are valuable because they are knowledgeable and vocal. They want products that are made for them, and they will pay more and travel further to get them. They also serve as a test. If your product delights people who know the subject deeply, it is likely to be good.

The book suggests that you find the niches that are ready for your offer. Look for groups of people who are passionate and underserved. They may feel that existing products are made for the average, and that no one understands their needs.

The attraction of such a group is that you can serve them wholeheartedly. You can design details that only they would notice, and talk in their language. In return, they give you loyalty and recommendations that a general audience seldom provides.

For an owner of an established business, this challenges the instinct to appeal to everyone. A broad appeal makes it hard to excite anyone. A niche appeal can create deep attachment. Think about which of your customers are the most enthusiastic. What do they have in common, and what do they want that you could offer?

There is a note of caution. A niche must be large enough to support the business, and passion is not the same as spending power. You need to check that the group can afford your product and that there are enough of them. Some niches are tiny, and you should not rely on them alone.

Imagine a Chennai coffee roaster who finds that a small circle of home brewers care about single-estate beans and precise roast dates. The roaster begins labelling every bag with the estate and the date, and offers a short guide. These customers write reviews, join a mailing list and send friends. The roaster later expands to a wider audience, trusting that the care in the details will carry over.

You can look for your own otaku by asking who writes to you with detailed questions, who comes back often, and who corrects you when you are careless. They are telling you what matters most. Build for them first.

Move towards the edges

Godin asks readers to think about extremes. In most categories, products cluster around the middle. They are neither the fastest nor the slowest, neither the cheapest nor the most luxurious. He suggests that the purple cow often lives at an edge.

You can ask what would happen if you pushed one aspect as far as it could go. What if your service were far faster than anyone expects, or far slower and more careful? What if you were the cheapest, or the most exclusive? What if you were the simplest, or the most complete?

The point is not that every edge is right. It is that exploring the edges is a good way to find a position nobody else holds. By moving away from the crowd, you give yourself the chance to be different.

He also encourages thinking about who the product is for and what it is for. Questions such as these can lead to ideas that look odd at first. A business that dares to be extreme in one respect gets noticed.

For an owner, a simple exercise is to list the main attributes of your category, such as price, speed, choice, style, service and location. For each, note where most competitors sit and where you could go to be distinct. Then ask whether any customer group would value that choice.

Be mindful that moving to the edge involves trade-offs. If you are the cheapest, you cannot also be the most luxurious. If you are the most exclusive, you will serve fewer people. Godin accepts this. He prefers a clear position with a smaller audience to a vague one with a larger audience.

Imagine a Delhi tailoring business that decides to be the fastest, delivering a basic shirt in twenty-four hours. It will not win on price or on elegance, but it will draw busy executives and travellers. Customers will mention it because the speed is unusual. Over time, the business can add other offerings around the core.

It is useful to run small tests. Try the extreme version of an idea with a limited group and measure the response. If it fails, the cost is small. If it works, you have found something that others have missed.

The edge is not always a physical thing. It could be an attitude, a promise or a style. What matters is that customers can feel the difference and describe it easily.

Some will dislike it, and it will fade

Two final points complete the picture. The first is that being remarkable means not pleasing everyone. A product designed to stand out will draw some people in and put others off. Godin says that this is not a problem. It is a sign that you have a strong identity.

Many owners struggle with this. They fear complaints and try to sand down their offer until nobody objects. The result is blandness. Godin suggests that you accept criticism from those who are not your audience, and focus on those who are.

The second point is that remarkable things become ordinary. When a purple cow first appears, it is astonishing. As more people copy it, it turns brown. What was once surprising becomes standard, and customers stop mentioning it. Godin therefore warns that you cannot rely on a single innovation.

This means that remarkable is a habit, not a state. You must keep testing, keep listening, and keep finding the next thing. A business that rests on its past novelty will lose its edge.

For an owner, the practical effect is to build innovation into the routine. Set aside regular time to ask what customers now take for granted, and what could surprise them next. Encourage your people to suggest small experiments. Treat failures as information.

It also means watching your competitors with a different eye. When they copy you, take it as a signal that you have succeeded and should move on. The aim is not to defend one idea forever but to stay ahead.

Imagine a Pune cafe that was the first in the area to offer a quiet room for remote workers. For a year, it was noticed. Now every cafe has one. The owner might respond by designing a weekly small-business meet-up, or a menu that suits long working hours. The goal is to keep giving people something to mention.

Godin's closing view is that the future belongs to those who make things that matter to someone. It is a more demanding standard than being competent, and a more rewarding one.

Where to push back

The book is lively and memorable, but it should be read with a few reservations.

First, it leans on striking stories and slogans more than on evidence. Godin's examples show that remarkable products can succeed, but they do not show how often they fail, or how many remarkable products never found an audience. Be careful of survivorship in the stories you hear.

Second, the advice is easier to follow in some industries than others. A consumer brand or a service can find a distinctive angle with relative ease. A commodity supplier, a contractor or a regulated profession may have far less room. If your customers buy on tender price, being remarkable may not change the outcome. You may need to be remarkable in a narrow area, such as reliability or after-sales care.

Third, the book was written in 2003, before social media and mobile phones changed how attention works. Some of what Godin predicted has come true, and some has changed shape. Word of mouth now travels faster and can be amplified or distorted. The core idea still holds, but the details of reaching people have moved on.

Fourth, the book says little about the unglamorous basics. A purple cow still needs reliable delivery, good accounts and fair treatment of staff. Remarkable marketing on top of a poorly run business will only spread the bad experience faster.

Fifth, the call to be different can be misused. Some owners take it as a reason to be odd, loud or provocative. Being different must serve a customer need. A gimmick without value earns attention for a week and then disappears.

Sixth, small, eager niches may not support a business of the scale you want. Passion does not always pay. Check the size of the market and the willingness to spend before you build around a few enthusiasts.

Finally, the book is short and repeats its main point. You can absorb the idea quickly. The harder work is applying it. If it appeals to you, read the original for more of Godin's examples and judge them for yourself.

Try this week

These actions can be done within a week and cost little. Choose those that fit your business.

First, ask ten customers a single question. What would you tell a friend about us? Write down their exact words. If the answers are bland, you have your starting point. If one answer repeats, you may have the seed of something remarkable.

Second, list the attributes of your category and map where you sit. Write down price, speed, choice, service and any others that matter. Mark where most competitors cluster. Pick one attribute where you could move boldly to the edge for a defined group of customers.

Third, identify your eager few. Name five customers who tried you first or who respond to new offers. Contact them with a new idea, a small preview or a request for honest feedback. Ask what would make them mention you to others.

Fourth, add one shareable touch to your service. It could be a printed card, a short follow-up note, a clear summary or a small surprise at delivery. Choose something that costs little and that a customer would be glad to show someone else.

Fifth, review your promotion spending. Write down what you spent in the last three months to reach strangers and what you spent to delight existing customers. Decide whether to move a small part of the first towards the second.

At the end of the week, note which action produced the strongest reaction. That is a clue to where your purple cow may be.