The Life and Death of a Brand Name Word

What do aspirin, a thermos, and a zipper have in common? Beyond being everyday household items, they share a peculiar and cautionary history. They were all once exclusive, legally protected trademarks. Today, they are common nouns, free for anyone to use. They are casualties of a fascinating linguistic and legal phenomenon known as “genericide”—the death of a brand name by its own overwhelming popularity.

This is the story of how words born in a marketing department escape into the wild and become so ingrained in our vocabulary that they lose their commercial shackles. It’s a high-stakes battleground where marketing genius, the power of public habit, and the strict rules of language law collide.

The Double-Edged Sword of Fame

For any company, having your brand name become a household word seems like the ultimate marketing goal. But there’s a treacherous line between being famous and being generic. A trademark is a word, phrase, or symbol that identifies the source of a product and distinguishes it from others. It’s a company’s legal claim to a name. When that name becomes the common term for the product category itself, the trademark is at risk of being legally nullified.

Losing a trademark is a devastating blow. It means competitors can start selling their own “thermoses” or “aspirins”, capitalizing on the brand recognition you spent millions building. The unique identity of the original product dissolves into a generic category, and a priceless asset is lost forever.

The Linguistic Graveyard: Case Studies in Genericide

The list of former trademarks that now populate our dictionaries is long and surprisingly varied. Each tells a story of innovation and unintended linguistic consequences.

Aspirin

Perhaps the most famous example, “Aspirin” was originally trademarked by the German company Bayer in 1899 for its acetylsalicylic acid formula. The name was a smash hit. However, after Germany’s defeat in World War I, the Treaty of Versailles forced Bayer to give up its trademark in the U.S., U.K., and France as part of war reparations. By then, the word “aspirin” was so widely used by the public to mean any brand of that specific pain reliever that it was impossible to reclaim. In the U.S., the court ruled it had become a generic term, forever severing its exclusive link to Bayer.

Thermos

The story of the thermos is a classic case of a company accidentally encouraging its own brand’s demise. The Thermos company actively promoted its name as synonymous with the product. Their advertising slogan, “Thermos, the ideal vacuum flask”, directly taught consumers to associate the brand name with the product category. In 1963, a landmark court decision ruled that due to the company’s own marketing and overwhelming public use, “thermos” had become a generic noun for any vacuum-insulated container, not just the ones made by the Thermos company.

Zipper

The word “zipper” didn’t originally refer to the interlocking teeth mechanism. In the 1920s, the B.F. Goodrich Company used a fastener made by another company on its new rubber boots. An executive, delighted by the zipping sound it made, dubbed the boots “Zippers”. The name was catchy and descriptive. The public loved the name so much that they started applying it not just to the boots, but to the fastener itself, regardless of who made it. The name “stuck” to the mechanism, and its trademark protection eventually zipped away.

Other fallen brands include:

• Escalator: Originally a trademark of the Otis Elevator Company.
• Cellophane: Once a DuPont trademark for transparent cellulose film.
• Trampoline: The brand name for a “rebound tumbler” created by George Nissen.
• Kerosene: First registered as a trademark in 1854.

How to Kill Your Own Brand: The Path to Genericide

Genericide isn’t random; it’s often the result of specific actions (or inactions) by the brand owner, combined with the organic, unstoppable force of public language.

1. Being First and Best: Often, the first product in a new category has its brand name adopted as the name for the category itself because no other word for it exists (e.g., Trampoline, Escalator).
2. Using the Name as a Noun or Verb: This is a cardinal sin in trademark law. If a company encourages people to “get a thermos” instead of “get a Thermos® brand vacuum flask”, they are weakening their own trademark.
3. Failing to Provide a Generic Term: A brand name should always be used as an adjective modifying a generic noun. It’s not a “Kleenex”, it’s a “Kleenex® brand tissue”. Without that generic noun, the brand name fills the void.
4. Not Policing the Mark: Companies must be vigilant in correcting journalists, dictionary editors, and other businesses who use their trademark generically.

The Fight for Survival: Brands on the Brink

Many famous brands live in constant fear of genericide and actively fight to prevent it. Their struggle is a masterclass in defensive marketing and legal diligence.

Xerox and Google

Xerox famously fought back against its name becoming a verb. In the 1970s, they launched ad campaigns with the plea: “You can’t Xerox a Xerox on a Xerox. But we don’t mind at all if you copy a copy on a Xerox® copier”. Their efforts largely succeeded in preserving their mark.

Google faces a similar battle today. The verb “to google” is in the dictionary, but the company’s lawyers work tirelessly to ensure it refers specifically to searching on Google’s engine, not generic web searching. Their official stance is: “You should use the word Google only when you’re referring to Google Inc. and our services”.

Adobe and Band-Aid

Adobe is fiercely protective of its Photoshop® trademark. Its legal guidelines explicitly state that the word should never be used as a verb (e.g., “the image was photoshopped”). The correct usage is “the image was edited using Adobe® Photoshop® software”.

Likewise, Johnson & Johnson constantly reinforces its brand identity by referring to its product as “BAND-AID® Brand Adhesive Bandages”. This constant repetition of “Brand” and the generic term “Adhesive Bandages” is a deliberate and crucial strategy to keep their iconic name from becoming just another word for a small bandage.

Language Will Always Win

Ultimately, the story of genericide is a powerful reminder that language belongs to its speakers, not corporations. While a company can own a name, it cannot own how people use it in their daily lives. When a word becomes too useful, too simple, and too descriptive, it naturally wants to be free.

The process reveals the beautiful, messy, and democratic nature of language evolution. A brand name that achieves genericide has, in a way, achieved immortality. It has shed its commercial skin to become a permanent part of our shared cultural and linguistic heritage—a legacy that is both a marketer’s greatest triumph and a lawyer’s worst nightmare.