Yuen: ‘Westopolis,’ the rebranding effort for St. Louis Park and Golden Valley, is a whopper of a head-scratcher

Rebranding isn’t easy.

How do you distill something to its very essence and then project that vibe into a new name, symbol or tagline? And how can you prepare for the eventual backlash? (See: Minnesota state flag.)

So, I’ll impart some grace to the organization formerly known as Discover St. Louis Park as it stared down an unenviable assignment. The nonprofit is in charge of attracting visitors not only to the first-ring suburb of St. Louis Park but also to the neighboring town — my town — Golden Valley. The marketing organization needed a new name that reflected both communities.

But when I read that the group was hoping to rebrand our area “Westopolis,” I checked my calendar to make sure it was not the first day in April.

“The new brand reflects the area’s energy and cosmopolitan spirit while emphasizing its convenient location and accessibility to the entire metro region, solidifying its allure as ‘Minnesota’s Sweet Spot,’ ” read the press release.

Uh, what?

I called Becky Bakken, the CEO of the marketing organization, which now goes by the name Westopolis. Was this for real?

“We do want to brand this area as Westopolis,” she said. “We believe that from a marketing perspective and a standing-out perspective, this makes us more interesting than just ‘West of Minneapolis.’”

It’s hardly the first time we in the Twin Cities have had to endure a rebrand.

Remember when civic boosters insisted we call the neighborhood surrounding U.S. Bank Stadium “East Town”? Or when, in the months leading up to the 2008 Republican National Convention, we were told to stop saying “Twin Cities” and embrace “Minneapolis-St. Paul”?

Bakken emphasized that contrary to some recent news articles and headlines on social media, the official names of St. Louis Park and Golden Valley are not changing. Nor are the cities merging. Her group wants Westopolis to catch on the way that the Bay Area instantly connotes San Francisco and its surrounding communities.

But confusion about Westopolis had already been sowed. A day after my interview with Bakken, I heard from a public relations firm hired to represent Westopolis (the marketing group), offering to clear up any misunderstandings. An apology appeared that night on the organization’s website, reiterating that the two cities were not renaming themselves.

“We know this misinformation may have made things confusing for the residents of St. Louis Park and Golden Valley,” the statement read. “That was certainly never our intention and we apologize for any misunderstanding. It is our hope that visitors coming to the metro area will be intrigued by Westopolis and go west to St. Louis [sic] and Golden Valley.”

Ironically, this apology left off the beloved “park” from St. Louis Park, mixing it up with the much bigger city in Missouri. It’s a common slight against St. Louis Park, but one you don’t expect from the group tasked with marketing it.

Discover St. Louis Park was formed in 2011 after the city passed an ordinance to fund it through a 3% lodging tax paid by visitors to the area. In 2017, the marketing group’s scope expanded to include Golden Valley. The nonprofit has a staff of three people and an annual budget of about $1.3 million. The rebranding effort did not involve any additional funds.

Bakken said the first conversations about a reinvention started three years ago, involving 45 one-on-one meetings with hospitality leaders, elected officials and residents. Her group hired a Minneapolis-based naming agency, Pollywog.

Customer surveys described a “special charm” and an “urban feel” when they visited St. Louis Park or Golden Valley, she said. In the end, Bakken’s organization decided that the new name should lean into one of the area’s most notable assets: its proximity to Minneapolis.

OK, now you know the back story. But is Westopolis a good name?

“For me, it’s hard to say,” said Milton Un, who lives in Golden Valley. “I feel funny saying it. I’m a little bit embarrassed to say it.”

Un knows a bit about brand evolutions. He’s an executive creative director for the Minneapolis-based ad agency Carmichael Lynch and worked on a 2019 reboot for the Minnesota Twins that depicted the athletes as modern-day heroes in an edgy, pop-art sort of way. He’s also done work for Adidas and the Penumbra Center for Racial Healing.

Good brands, Un said, strive for simplicity and a human connection. They might be aspirational. You should feel good saying it and want to be a part of it.

Maybe the problem is that all the good names are taken.

West End is already what we call the shopping district near I-394 and Hwy. 100. Westwood, a nod to our plethora of bucolic parkland, is the name of a local nature center. Park Valley is the name of the youth soccer club for the area.

But Westopolis conjures to mind a comic book; it is literally a location in “Sonic the Hedgehog.”

Un also took issue with Westopolis relying so heavily on our proximity to Minneapolis. He likens it to introducing someone only in the context of their spouse. It doesn’t matter so much who you’re married to — what makes you special?

That brings us to the crux of the issue. Golden Valley and St. Louis Park are two disparate communities that arguably lack a cohesive identity. That doesn’t mean we aren’t a special place to explore or live. My favorite gems in these cousinly cities include Theodore Wirth Regional Park and the area’s best outdoor patio at the Trailhead; a somehow-hip revitalized suburban strip mall in Texa-Tonka (check out my favorite burrito shop, Brito’s); and a one-of-a-kind skate park in 3rd Lair.

In Golden Valley, we attract families searching for good schools and creatives drawn to the area’s midcentury modern architecture. In St. Louis Park, we find walkable neighborhoods and eclectic independent businesses.

I asked Un, one of those creatives who lives in a modern split-level with a flat roof, why he chose to live here. One of the first things he said? “It’s close to downtown,” he admitted, laughing. “The location is great. It’s easy to get anywhere.”

So maybe the powers-that-be were onto something.

And maybe that’s why I admitted to Bakken that I wished I liked Westopolis a bit more.

“I wish you did, too,” she said.