-By Mark Toner

It's hard to tell when this Rat Pack thing got cool again. Maybe it was when hipsters began ordering martinis around 1996, or when the old Sands casino in Las Vegas came down later that year. Perhaps it took the remake of Ocean's 11 in 2001. Whatever started it all, the liquor-drinking, jet-age bachelor is unimpeachably iconic. In other words, nothing says hip like Frank Sinatra. But borrowing from Frank’s mystique isn't easy. It helps to be young, rich and have lots of fawning women around. Fortunately, Sean "Diddy" Combs has all those things—and he puts them all to work in his new spot for Ciroc vodka. Sure looks cool, but does it work as marketing? We tapped Mark Toner, managing partner of Source Marketing, Norwalk, Conn., to don his tux and crash the party for us.


Back in 1958, Eisenhower was in the White House, a postage stamp cost three cents, the U.S. launched its first satellite and, coincidentally or no, Frank Sinatra released "Come Fly with Me." That was exactly 50 years ago, but now, in the era of Barack Obama, 42-cent stamps, iPhones and Web 2.0, the song is still as crisp and confident as a pressed collar. That, no doubt, is why the marketers at Diageo's vodka brand, Ciroc, have reached up to the classics shelf and pulled down a tune like this—one so evocative of ice-cold martinis and suave bachelors. But, of course, they needed a stand-in for Ol' Blue Eyes (who's booked for eternity, of course), and they found it in music, fashion, fragrance, restaurant and entertainment mogul Sean "Diddy" Combs, whose presence smolders in "The Art of Celebration," the recent spot from Diddy's in-house marketing posse, Blue Flame.

Does Diddy (if they ever call him a "Provodkateur," you read it here first) truly roll in a manner befitting the Rat Pack? Should I call his crew the Rap Pack? I can't say because we've never met. My bodyguards manage to keep him away. But I can say this is a cool, memorable, effective commercial.

According to published reports, Diageo's bet heavily on Diddy making Ciroc a success, to the tune of a 50/50 split. If sales truly fly away, Diddy can take home upwards of $100 million. Why does that matter? Because Diddy's not just a paid shill—and with this commercial, it shows. He brings style, swagger and substance. His flamboyance feels credible, which is no mean feat at a time when prestige brands are suffering understandable questions of relevancy.

Like other super-premium vodka brands, Ciroc was built in local markets, targeting urban culture on-premise in its own bars and clubs. Throughout, the brand sounded the beat of "accessible luxury" through advocate-bartenders, celeb-filled events, and a bottle that stretches its slim, clear neck from an electric-blue base. Standing on the top shelf, it nearly calls out to you: "Go ahead, order me in a $20 martini. Nobody'll know you're taking the bus home."

And, chances are, with a recession upon us, home is where you'll be spending more of your time. Relax, Diddy's in the house (and on the patio, daddy-o). After all, you may have to cut back on the entertainment, but $12 bottles of wine and a Costco cheese platter just won't do. Diddy gives you permission to bring the party home.

That's why these 15- and 30-second spots—which were shot inside one of Sinatra's former California homes, by the way—work. They're a wonderful, visual juxtaposition of expectation and reality. Forget what you know about Diddy (and drinking vodka at home). He's not that hip-hop urban downtown guy you thought you knew. He's an uptown style-icon you want to hang with. Go ahead, challenge the status quo (Diddy's giving you permission); It's time to celebrate, despite what's going on around you.

Shot in grayscale, the spots portray very swish, very beautiful people at a house party where vintage vinyl is on the turntable and sophisticated women lounge on a white sectional sofa. Diddy—part-host, part chairman of the board—swaggers through the crowd with his black bowtie stylishly undone. It's undoubtedly fancy stuff, but the underlying message is clear: For just $34 a bottle (plus a rented tux and Sinatra iTunes download), you can pull this off, too. Like Frank in his prime, and Diddy today, Ciroc comes off as a brand you want to be with to escape all the downbeat of the day.

By the way, I applaud the social responsibility message Diddy—who does the entire voicetrack, here—delivers at the spot's end: Celebrate responsibly. Granted, it's easier to do that when your designated driver works for you and drives a Bentley stretch, but, hey, anyone can afford a cab.

One thing I would like to have seen is an extension of the campaign driving consumers to the moment of truth: the store shelf. There's a lot here that can be translated in promotional fashion to take Diddy's good vibe and make it actionable to help close the sale.

As for Frank, he wanted to be remembered as having succeeded in making popular music an art form—to have reached people. Diddy gets this. Maybe it's because he's on record for having Frank as his imaginary friend. Before his 40th birthday, the man's gone from Sean John to Puff Daddy, Puffy, Puff, P. Diddy and Diddy. Now, for $100 million, he'll be glad if you just call him Frank.

One last thing: friends who knew I was writing this item advised me to keep it complimentary so Diddy wouldn't use his muscle against me. I'm proud to say that my admiration for the spots is genuine. Then again, I didn't mind a little ass-kissing if it'll up the chances I get an invite to his next party that looks like this one. I've already rented the tux. So, Diddy, the Brandweek editors have my phone number.