Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Attitude & Aptitude, Authenticity, China, Colleagues, Communication Strategy, Content, Context, Craft, Creative Development, Creativity, Culture, Customer Service, Differentiation, Emotion, Empathy, Experience, Food, Happiness, Honesty, Imagination, Innovation, Italy, Leadership, Love, Loyalty, Management, Marketing, Mischief, Packaging, Resonance, Singapore, Social Divide, Standards, Strategy, Viz, Wieden+Kennedy
In the UK there was an adult comic called Viz.
It was filthy, hilarious and – for a long time – very successful.
And while they had many ‘star’ characters … from Sid the Sexist to errrrm, The Fat Slags … my favourite part of the magazine were the publishing company details.
Tucked at the bottom of a page, in extra small font, were a list of the people behind the magazine. Most people wouldn’t even see it, let alone read it … but if you did, you found magic in that small print.
Mischief. Personality. Information.
Nothing told you how much this was a labour of love for the people behind the magazine than their dedication to instilling their personality into every nook and cranny they could find … whether people would see it or not.
Brilliant stuff.
I say this because I saw a label a friend had put on a product they were selling at their shop.
Ai Ming was a planner in my team at Wieden+Kennedy.
She was very good … but decided one day, it was time for a change and so she went back to Singapore to open a Cheese Shop.
I know … sounds a bit random … but wait, it get’s better.
You see Ai Ming had an idea.
A way to combine her love of cheese and travel and be paid for it.
So she started The Cheese Ark … a cheese shop in Singapore, dedicated to selling cheeses from small, independent makers across Europe.
Oh but that’s nowhere near the end of the story …
So when she left Wieden – and before she returned to Singapore – Ai Ming went to work on a small farm in Italy for a few months. [I think]
While there, she discovered how amazing cheese tasted when it was made by people who loved and nurtured their product.
To her, it was a whole new world of taste and made every other cheese she had tried, feel unworthy of being labelled as such.
But she also learned something else …
You see she discovered many of these small, independent cheese makers were in danger of going under, because they didn’t have a way to compete with the big boys.
Said another way … this incredible tasting cheese could become obsolete.
So rather be sad, she decided to do something about it.
Enter The Cheese Ark … a shop that only sells cheese that originates from these small independent farms. A shop that is one of the only places in the World where you can get your hands on this incredible produce. A shop that charges enormous amounts of money to own a piece of their incredible cheese … not simply so you can have your taste buds tingled in ways you could never imagine … not simply because it allows you to show off to your friends about your good taste and status … not simply because it pays for Ai Ming’s travel, shop, employees and profit … but because by buying so much from each of these small farms across Europe, she can ensure that these small, independent cheese farms not only survive, but thrive.
Hence it’s called ‘The Cheese Ark’ … because its literally saving the lives of cheese.
How fucking incredible is that?
But Ai Ming is not just a creative business thinker, she’s full of personality and passion … which leads me to the point of this post.
You see I recently saw something that reminded me of those Viz publishing details I loved.
Something that communicated more than just the necessary details.
It was this …
How good is that?
I bloody love it.
A notice on a packet of cheese that’s more interesting, engaging, compelling and charming than 99% of ads – or any marketing material – out there.
Sure, not many people will see it.
Most may actively choose to ignore it.
But for those who do, they’re not just rewarded with the thrill of discovering something as enjoyable as the product inside it, they know they’re dealing with someone who really cares about what they do.
And they do. Because what Ai Ming has created is the Noah’s Ark of Cheese.
When I was young, I loved looking through the Argos and Innovations catalogues.
They were a window into a world I couldn’t imagine.
One filled with gadgets and toys I’d never see, let alone never own.
It’s partly why whenever I fly, I always look at the Duty Free catalogue.
Because outside of the sexist shit like ‘air hostess outfits for girls and pilot suits for boys’ and prices that never seemingly being any less than I could get in a store … there’s something magical – at least for me – in seeing what’s on offer.
Bad versions of expensive brands.
Updated versions of old products.
Endless amounts of perfume and questionable jewellery.
I love it. Hell, I’ve even bought things from it occasionally … though the mini-projector ended up being something I used precisely ZERO times.
But post-covid, the people behind these catalogues have decided passengers are super rich and super stupid.
I get why they would think that with the price of tickets these days.
But even then, I am wracking my brain to work out who would get on a plane and order this …
A bed.
A SG$24,000 bed.
Seriously, what the absolute fuck?
I know there’s a lot of bed companies these days offering ’60+ free nights’ … but this isn’t one of those.
This is the real deal … mattress AND remote control flexible frame.
For the price of a car. Or at least a second-hand car.
And they expect you to buy it, without trying it, via an inflight, duty-free catalogue.
I’d kill to know if any have ever been sold. I’d kill to know the reasoning behind why they did it.
And I’d kill anyone who ordered one.
Forget Duty Free this would be Brain Free … or, the new way to signal to people you have vulgar wealth.
Better than a Black Centurion AMEX or a Lambo with Pepper Pig.
Evolution sure works in some strange ways …
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, America, Attitude & Aptitude, Cats, China, Culture, Emotion, EvilGenius, Family, Fatherhood, Happiness, Hong Kong, Jill, LaLaLand, London, Love, Loyalty, New Zealand, Nottingham, Otis, Parents, Relationships, Rosie, Shanghai, Singapore, Stubborness
So on Saturday, it will be our cat – Rosie’s – 16th birthday.
Sixteen. For a street cat from Singapore, that’s amazing.
What’s also amazing is that she’s still in pretty good nick.
Yes, you can tell she’s getting old.
She’s slower … less mobile and definitely sleeps more.
But by the same token she remains cranky, vocal and remains as demanding as ever.
And if another cat comes anywhere near our house, she goes full gangster mode … hissing, growling and acting like she’s ready to fight despite the fact she’s behind a glass door.
Like those TikTok videos that show men loving family dogs they didn’t originally want their family to have … I was in a similar situation.
I didn’t really want us to have a pet.
Not because I’m a bastard, but because Jill and I were living in Singapore and I didn’t know how long we’d be there and I just was worried about the hassle of bringing it with us.
But Jill had always had pets and I wanted her to be happy, so while she originally wanted a dog, we settled on getting a cat.
She threw herself into the search.
It wasn’t just about getting any cat, she had to feel a connection to it … so after visiting various pet shops with their over-priced, pure-bred snooty moggies, she came across a little street cat that had been found by a family and was wondering if anyone wanted to adopt.
Jill went to see it and it is here that street cat did the best move of their life.
As Jill lifted her up to her face, Rosie moved her head forward so their noses touched.
Despite the fact Rosie would not show such love and tenderness for about 6 years, that ensured the deal was done and we were now a cat family.
I still remember sitting in a cab outside the apartment as Jill went to pick her up.
I was a bit anxious and nervous and eventually the door opened and there she was, in her little cat bag, where we both wondered what the fuck we had in store for each other.
And while there have been some annoying, painful and scary moments … it’s been generally nothing but joy.
Put it simply, I bloody love that cat.
There’s things I’ve done for her that I wouldn’t do for anyone. Literally anyone.
What things? Well how about some of this …
In HK we paid someone to pat her so she didn’t feel lonely. I did a project for an airline on the condition they flew her in the crew quarters rather than the cargo hold. We built ‘penthouses’ for her to hang out in. I gave an entire presentation about what a client can learn from her and her ways. I even got my office painted with her – and some of my colleagues moggies. And that’s just the tip of the sad-cat-bastard iceberg.
That said, every year I worry this is the year … the one where we have to say goodbye.
And while I know that will happen eventually, she’s doing OK.
Yes she needs some blood pressure medication, but apart from that, she’s in pretty good nick.
That said, I remember when we were moving to NZ I was worried that would be it.
Despite having flown from Singapore to HK … HK to Shanghai … Shanghai to LA and LA to London … London to Auckland is a whole different beast.
But bizarrely it wasn’t just the distance that worried me, it was that there was a stopover in Singapore – and given she was originally from there, my nihilistic side told me it was written in the stars that if there was any place she would reach the end, it would be where she started, like some fucked-up circle of life. Which – to be fair to me – is kinda what happened when Otis was born and my wonderful Mum died a few months later. Which – given I knew she was ill – was something my nihilistic side had also started to feed into my head.
Except with Rosie, it thankfully didn’t happen. [Fuck you, nihilism brain]
Better yet, we knew it hadn’t happened at the time because we had paid for a service that ensured at every stage she was checked and photographed.
Hell, even when we ended up in MIQ in NZ – where we spent longer in quarantine than she did – we got bombarded with pics of her and she looked to be having the time of her life.
Jetlagged … but happy, thanks to brushes and treats that I had already got sent to the quarantine place before our arrival.
But if you think this proves how much she means to me, you’re only partially right.
You see, at her age – which is 80 in human years – my attitude is she’s earned the right to do whatever she wants to do.
Which is why I’ll get up at 3am if she decides she wants a treat at 3am.
Which is why I’ll give her my chair if she decides she wants to be under the aircon.
Which is why I’ll buy her an extortionately expensive outdoor beanbag because she loves sitting outside in summer.
If we were her servants before, we’re her slaves now and I’m OK with that.
NZ is good for her.
She has a lovely, comfortable peaceful life.
Lots of places to go hang out, a big deck to sit and watch the birds and loads of food and water. And treats.
And where in the past you always felt she was disappointed in you, now you feel her gratefulness.
A cuddle here. A lick there. Meows, headrubs and sleeping on your hip.
Hell, she’s even totally chill that Sky – Otis’ budgie – is in the house.
It’s a lovely feeling.
A family feeling.
And while we give her so much, she’s given us – and me – more.
Happy Birthday my dear Rosie. Keep proving the critics wrong and us on our toes.
Filed under: Babies, Cats, China, Dad, Daddyhood, Family, Fatherhood, Home, Jill, Love, My Fatherhood, Otis, Rosie, Singapore
Look at that photo.
Look at my kids.
Yes, I appreciate one is a cat, but she isn’t to me.
She’s my demanding, complaining, cranky daughter who – bizarrely – is also a grandmother.
But only in age.
While also being Otis’ ‘kitty sister’.
We had Rosie for 7 years before Otis came around. And when he did, everything changed.
I remember how Rosie couldn’t work out what was happening. Especially how Jill was behaving.
From ruling the roost, she was now playing second fiddle to this screaming object that seemed to be awake at all hours of the day.
Rosie’s way of dealing with it was to sulk.
She would openly shun Jill before blindly following her every move. Blatantly craving the love and focus she had enjoyed for 7 years while pretending she didn’t care.
I felt sorry for her.
I’d talk to her a lot and gave her extra hugs to ‘equalise’ the attention and adoration being given to Otis.
And while you may think this shift in hierarchy could make Rosie hate Otis, she never did.
I’m not saying she loved him, but she put up with him.
However Otis found Rosie fascinating.
He thought she was AMAZING.
But babies don’t know how to treat animals which is why we paid a bloody fortune to have an identical version of her made as a cuddly toy so he could learn how to be gentle with her.
While the identikit cat didn’t achieve the desired result – I would often find him swinging the toy version of Rosie over his head by the tail – he never did anything bad to the real thing.
He loves her. Adores her. Is thrilled every time she pays the slightest bit of notice to him … regardless how small or short.
And I love that.
I love how they have found their own relationship.
Not expecting anything from each other but accepting what each other wants to give.
It may have started as a forced relationship, but it’s definitely a family now.
My family.
I get some people will read this and think I’ve lost the plot.
And maybe I have.
But family is more than blood. It’s understanding.
The good. The bad. The quirks. The demanding.
And when you find the level where you’re able to float with all of that, then you’re doing pretty well. It’s not always easy, but its always worth it.
Which is why I love spending my my time with them – and their Mum – every weekend.
Oh and one last thing.
To Dave …
I’m thinking of you.
I wish I had something I could say that would shield you a little from the emotions you’re facing, but for what it’s worth – know I love you. And love them. Rx
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Apple, Attitude & Aptitude, Communication Strategy, Confidence, Creative Development, Creativity, Culture, Differentiation, Effectiveness, Gaming, Innovation, Internet, Planners Making A Complete Tit Of Themselves And Bless, Relevance, Resonance, Singapore
The photo above was taken by me in June 2006.
So sixteen years ago.
I found it recently in my flickr file.
I don’t know if I ever used it for a post.
I’m not sure where I took it – though I assume Singapore airport.
But I bet you I captured it because I found it weird to see someone playing games.
On their computer.
At the airport.
Remember, 2006 is way before the very first iPhone.
Youtube, Twitter, Facebook and Google Earth had only just started.
Shakira was number 1 with ‘Hips Don’t Lie’ and the first Cars movie had just hit the cinema.
And while gaming was huge – and handheld systems had been around for years – the idea of someone playing on their computer – at an airport – was obviously strange enough for me to take a photo.
But would we think that now?
Well, maybe the idea of needing a big-ass laptop to do it may still be considered strange – for totally different reasons than it was in 2006 – but the idea of someone gaming at an airport at all times of day wouldn’t cause a blink of an eye.
And here’s the point.
We – as an industry – are quick to kill new.
We write off different without any hesitation.
Believing if it makes no sense to us, it can’t make sense to anyone. Like we’re the fucking gods of everything.
And yet history has repeatedly shown new needs time.
Time to grow. Time to find its place. Time to find its energy.
From Apple computers to the internet to electric cars to gaming culture.
And while sometimes it may burn out, it’s worth remembering what a Fast Company journalist once said about reviewing tech.
“The biggest mistake is reviewing new tech against established tech. It will never win that because it’s not trying to be that”.
Which is why when you see new habits, beliefs or trends emerge that make little sense to you, it may be worth remembering before you pass judgement that it’s not them who have got it wrong, it’s possibly you who has misunderstood.