It feels wrong to write about my birthday when I honestly feel I had one of the best presents of my life with my recent trip to Europe, but the reality is, it is my birthday on Sunday and I’ll be 52 whether I like it or not.
And while there’s a bunch of things I don’t like about ageing, the older I get the more I realise it’s your attitude towards it.
Fortunately I have always been blessed with a big dollop of immaturity.
I’ve had people tell me it’s a weakness, but it’s served me pretty well.
It makes sure I don’t get too lost in the seriousness of life.
It helps me love and chase the daft.
It reminds me people are a bundle of emotions, regardless how hard they try to hide it.
But as I’ve got older, another trait has started to reveal itself.
Impatience.
I realised it when I was in a conversation with the wonderful Lee Hill recently.
He asked if I was becoming more patient in my older years and I told him it was the opposite.
I am not prepared to spend my time on things I think are a waste of my time.
Now I get how arrogant that sounds.
I also get that just because I don’t think something is important, doesn’t means someone else does. And that’s cool.
It’s just I’m not able to invest my time in it.
I appreciate there’s implications with that – from work to relationships – but I’m good with that.
The irony is I’ll do any amount of menial tasks if it’s in the quest to take leaps rather than move inches. I’ll work the longest hours if it creates the conditions for change rather than complicity. And I’ll jump through any amount of annoying process hoops if fights for craft and creativity rather than the contrived and confusing.
But age is refusing me to do any of that if it hasn’t got those goals attached.
It’s not being a diva. Or a prick.
Life’s too short for any of us to be doing that stuff.
As I said, I get it’s important to someone … but I can’t help but feel for all the supposed focus on efficiency and effectiveness that the industry is obsessed with, so much of what we do ends up being about looking busy rather than making a real difference.
Or as I wrote a while back …
The whole industry is engaged in creating different forms of remuneration landfill.
Imagine how much impact we would have economically, creatively and culturally if we were evaluated on what we changed rather than what we produced?
On what we encouraged rather than what we controlled.
What we learned rather than optimised.
And that’s why I have come to the realisation that while ageing may have many problems, impatience isn’t one of them.
In fact, it may be the thing that makes the back half of life, at least as exciting as the front.
So happy 52nd to me on Sunday.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Age, America, Attitude & Aptitude, Comment, Culture, Insight, Jill, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad
A few weeks ago, I walked into our lounge to see Jill watching the very first edition of The Golden Girls. For those of you too young to know what it is, have a look at this ‘best bits’ compilation.
After a couple of minutes, Jill asked me to guess how old the main characters were supposed to be in the show.
Given the name of the program and the style of fashion they were wearing, I suggested in their early to late 60’s.
I was wrong.
Jill told me that the ages were 47,53 and 55.
Or said another way, I was older than one and just a few years behind the others.
Then she hit me with this …
The characters were supposed to be the same age as the women in the reboot of Sex And The City.
To help explain why this news impacted me, have a look at this.
Now we are talking about ‘character age’ not real age … plus the ‘backgrounds’ of each show are about as different as you can get … but still.
Then a few days later, this was posted featuring Dorothy from the Golden Girls and Lisa Rinna from The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.
Again, one is in character and the other is … OK, probably also in character … but the shift in age perception – or presentation of it – is startling.
On one hand there’s something awesome about it.
While I – and society – absolutely don’t want to see me sashaying down the street wearing designer clothes and botox lips … the idea that people in their 50’s don’t have to hide themselves away and can feel they are an active member and contributor to society is awesome.
However by the same token, the thought you may need to match the look and behaviour of people much younger than you, just so you can be ‘validated’ is terrifying.
Now of course women have been facing this situation for centuries, which is why the older I get, the more I realise what a brilliant role model I had in my Mum.
You see she always believed age didn’t defy you, your interest in what was happening in culture did.
It’s why she followed emerging artists in film, music, art, literature and politics.
It’s why she would go to a classical concert as well as watch new comedians.
It’s why she viewed ‘growing old gracefully’ as being interested in what others are interested in rather than extracting yourself from modern life because ‘it was easier that way’.
Now this didn’t mean she always like what she saw and learned – and she most certainly wasn’t going to dress in the latest trends and fashions – but she wanted to contribute to life rather than criticise it simply because it was continually evolving.
Which helps explain why I found the Golden Girls/Sex And The City comparison so amazing.
Because dramatic shift in terms of fashion and looks aside, the reality is ageing – especially for women – hasn’t really evolved at all.
Sure, you may not have to ‘hide yourself away’ as much as you used to, but looks are still the foundation of validity and fashion is still the criteria for relevance.
How utterly fucked is that?
For all the talk of modernity, the reality is not much has changed. In fact, it’s arguably even worse now as there is the illusion it’s actually better.
But it’s not.
White men are still born with inherent advantage.
As a 51 year old, badly dressed man, I still receive incredible benefits.
So don’t let the exposure of older, female actresses sway you from the reality.
Sexism and ageism is alive and well.
It’s something perpetuated by the media and championed by society the world over.
In simple terms, if you have to ‘look’ the part to be seen by others, something is fucked up.
And women have to do that more than men. Fact.
Growing old is enough of a pain in the arse without having to deal with that shit.
Which is why it would be so much better if we valued interest rather than image.
Another thing I need to thank my Mum for.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Comment, Communication Strategy, Creative Brief, Creative Development, Creativity, Education, Insight, Internet, Northern, Planners, Planning, Point Of View
Ad blogging was once a rich, vibrant community.
It was amazing how much people looked out for each other.
A lot was driven by Russell Davies … but the effect of it was something pretty special.
I met a lot of people because of that community … some, still even come on here.
Occasionally.
But when you compare it to the toxic, ego-filled bullshit of ad twitter … I can’t help but feel the blogging community was a much more valuable and positive resource for adland.
Especially if you were a junior.
While there are many positives of social media, learning the strategy discipline through 280 letter tweets is not really going to drive the craft forward.
Nowadays there seems to be only 2 people still blogging.
Martin and me.
Or said another way …
Nowadays, only Martin writes a blog that has real value and depth for the industry and discipline.
One of the people I am saddest at having stopped blogging is Andrew Hovells. Better known as Northern Planner.
I’ve written about him a lot in the past.
From how much I respect him to how much I liked trolling him by sending him to see Queen in concert, when he absolutely hates the band.
But I revisited his blog recently and there’s just so, so much amazing stuff on there.
Stuff for people curious about planning.
Stuff for people just starting planning.
Stuff for people having a career in planning.
Stuff for people leading work and teams in planning.
Stuff for every level and need in planning.
And while there are many other resources for this sort information on the internet, Northern Planner’s is especially good for 3 reasons:
1. It comes from someone who could have worked at pretty much any of the best agencies in London, but didn’t and instead chose to stay ‘oop North’ and bring the planning discipline to a part of England that [i] didn’t have it and [ii] needed a lot of convincing to see it’s value. Not only did he achieve that – and validate the discipline for more people in the region to become a part of it – his work gave the supposed London ‘superstars’ a run for their money.
[He also turned down coming to cynic, which still devastates me, because he would have made such a difference to us. But it also shows how smart he is. Unfortunately]
2. He doesn’t give you a process to follow, he gives you a way to look at the discipline and the roles within it. Meaning you’re developing your own planning style and voice … not regurgitating someone else’s.
3. All of it is free. Every last bit of it.
Given the amount of amateurs ‘flogging’ their questionable, superficial and inauthentic courses that don’t have the right to even be in the same universe – let alone industry – as Andrew’s generous, considered and carefully explained lessons and insights … I know who I recommend people spend their time learning from.
I really miss Northern and his blog.
But the planning community should be missing it even more.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Comment, Dad, Death, Family, Fatherhood, Home, Jill, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad, Nottingham, Otis
A few weeks ago, I saw a tweet by the comedian, David Baddiel.
It was this.
It was late, but there was something about it that really touched me.
Of course, hearing a parent has died is always sad. And over the years, my stance on Mr Baddiel has gone from ‘annoying’ to ‘wonderful’. But I think it was the sight of the worn chair that got me. A reminder of a parent who preferred comfort over new. A father who saw the chair worn in rather than worn out. An extention of the parent rather than just another piece of furniture in the home.
I definitely related to that.
I still remember going into Mum’s bedroom after she died – the bedroom that my shared my entire childhood – and saw it was a bit worn out. Needed some care, some attention, some updating. But what’s interesting is that while I’d been in that room a million times, it was only then that I the condition. Because when my parents were in that room … in that bed … the whole room radiated love and life and all the worn paint and old carpet disappeared from view.
But I also know how important it is to hold on to some of that.
Getting rid of your parents belongings is devastating.
I definitely remember genuinely considering hiring a security guard to just sit outside the house so I could keep it exactly the way it was. Hell, I even tried to buy the home phone number from British Telecom, or whatever they’re called these days – so I would have a connection to my past … to my parents … forever.
Jill gently convinced me that wasn’t the best way to move forward. Reminded me that wouldn’t be what my parents would want. But she also knew I needed to keep a physical connection to them and that house … so she came up with a brilliant idea that I thought may help a man I don’t know, get through a terribly painful situation I do know all too well.
So I responded to him with this and went to sleep.
The next morning I woke up to my phone screen full of twitter notifications and saw this.
Thousands of likes.
Hundreds of comments.
A mass of retweets.
I couldn’t quite believe it.
And when I read the comments, every single one was positive.
No snark. No pisstaking. Just a mass of lovely, considerate, words. Which was more wonderful than I could ever have imagined, because as much as it’s nice to have something you said/did liked by so many, what made the biggest impact was so many people saying they now had a way to take their family and home with them, when their family and home are no longer there.
A bit of calm in the worst of storms.
And since I wrote this post, the number of people who liked it and commented on how this can help them deal with their grief has increased more and more.
So thank you Jill.
You helped not just make one of my hardest times, less dark, you have helped others see a way out of their darkest moment.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Authenticity, Comment, Family, Love, Parents
I had a lovely birthday.
Despite not receiving your presents. Tight asses.
Anyway, I digress …
I want to write a post about being a parent.
Put simply, it’s amazing.
Better than I ever could have imagined.
But what is interesting is how parenting is often portrayed in advertising.
It’s either unicorns or hurricanes.
Soft focus or extreme disaster.
But the reality is in most cases, that’s just not true. It’s somewhere in the middle … where the love is always there, even though it sometimes manifests itself in ways that seem to suggest otherwise.
Years ago I asked Ros – who was a member of my team at Wieden – to go interview teenagers about something they remember their parents said or did to them that was hurtful, even though they know it wasn’t meant that way.
Everyone had one.
It may have been something really innocuous … something their parents can’t even remember saying or doing … but it was cemented in their feelings or memories.
Maybe an offhand comment.
Or a misplaced judgement.
Or a small disagreement.
Nothing major. For some, forgotten in a second. For others … remembered for a lifetime, even if the pain of it has long passed.
We made a cool little film about it called, ‘Parents Fuck You Up’ … I’ll try find it, because even though it’s in Mandarin, it’s something I’m sure we all relate to. I know I do.
I wrote years ago about the revelation I’d had of why I might like Birkenstocks so much.
When I was a kid, my Mum was trying to teach me how to tie my shoelaces. I just couldn’t get it. And she got so frustrated that she lost her shit with me.
It was the only time she was ever like that with me – and she felt bad about it her whole life, when she absolutely shouldn’t have – but that moment is seared in my brain, which may explain why I ended up loving shoes that have no laces.
Maybe.
I say this because I recently watched a repeat of an episode of Gogglebox. It was an episode that when I watched it the first time – back when I was in England – it made me laugh so much I had an asthma attack.
It’s not even that funny. But having a parent says this to their daughter is … because it’s far more reflective of our family relationships than advertising will ever capture honestly.
Enjoy. Have a great weekend.
And remember your kids remember stuff better than elephants