In 1998, an Italian company called Modo & Modo revived a brand that carried two centuries of history.
The brand was Moleskine, and it referred to an unassuming little black book — a blank book, used by diarists, authors and illustrators. Its literary and artistic heritage was strong: Hemingway was a noted user of blank books in the Moleskine style, as were Picasso and Vincent Van Gogh.
On the surface, the books might seem unremarkable. There are, after all, countless brands of blank books in the stationery aisle of any good book store, and Moleskine books are among the most visually plain: a simple black cover, an elastic strap to hold the pages shut and a sewn-in bookmark.
But the “cult of Moleskine” is a bona fide phenomenon, with countless Web sites springing up to chronicle the passions of the people who love the little books and fill them with their every waking thought.
What’s going on here? Why are people so excited about a blank book? Part of the answer lies in the quality of the materials; the books are wonders of manufacturing, with paper that holds up well to ink and a binding that stays firm over time. And they are simply elegant.
But in the larger picture, they are designed with a holistic view of how customers interact with the things they use. They are about much more than utility — they also are about emotion.
Global branding consultancy Interbrand hits the nail square on the head with its analysis of Moleskine:
“… that’s where the magic of Modo & Modo’s marketing works — making people feel as if their purchase of Moleskine notebooks is an act deeper than a consumer impulse. When you buy them, you begin to believe you are buying into a larger intellectual and artistic history, something larger than the notebooks themselves.”
It can be argued that the Moleskine revival would not have worked two decades ago because it is only very recently that the average consumer’s tastes in design have become so refined. Ikea, and brands of its ilk, are 21st-century phenomena.
Truly, we are living in the century of design. Never before has consumer awareness of the aesthetic value of products been so high. Never before has form balanced so well against function. Never before have world-class architects and designers plied their wares at Target.
All of this serves to raise the bar — and the possibilities — for the deployer of self-service technology. At one time, functionality was all that was asked; it was enough that the ATM dispensed money, and unnecessary for it to be visually appealing. This is no longer the case. Today’s self-service devices must be attractive, inviting, easy to use and must create an emotional resonance with the user.
The goal of this guide is to help you isolate those aspects of your project that will meet each of those needs. And I’d like to thank Olea, whose kind sponsorship of the guide allows us to provide it to you at no charge. 
