I was just in my early 20s and I had landed a job in the in-house advertising agency of Bloomingdale's. Except for a few frustrating years writing catalogue copy for the Montgomery Ward catalogue, I was finally getting paid to sit behind a typewriter and write.
What's more, the agency itself was like a great professional ball-team that hadn't quite broken into the major leagues. The 1933 San Francisco Seals come to mind. A Double A team that sent nearly half its players to the bigs, including an 18-year-old Joe DiMaggio, whom they later wrote a song about.
Way back in the early 80s, I learned something about people and life that is extremely important.
Our team at Bloomingdale's was led by John C. Jay. He went on to help run Wieden & Kennedy.
One of the things I learned at Bloomingdale's is how insecure--paralyzed by insecurity so many people are. Bloomingdale's was a horrible place to shop. It was disorganized. You couldn't get help. And almost invariably they didn't have your size, even if you were a normal size--like a 15 1/2-34, or a 44L. (Sorry I used the word normal, that's considered impolitic today.)
I talked to my creative director, Chris Rockmore, about it. Chris was a friend and a wise man.
"George, Bloomingdale's sucks. But they have taste. If you're insecure about how to dress, what to wear, how to enter a room or what to wear for an interview, you got to Bloomingdale's. If you buy it there, you can be sure it's ok."
"No purple three-piece suits?" I joked.
"American Express is built on the same insight. People are nervous when they travel. "Don't Leave Home Without It," is reassurance that you're protected, you have a safety net with you. You're a "member," even in a strange land."
It's the time of year we're in now that brings this all to mind. It seems to me that 7/8ths or 11/12ths of all magazines and newspaper articles and youtube garbage recounts the "top ten _______ of the year."
Every creative you meet, every agency you look into, every airline, hotel, coffee shop, book, travel destination, museum and dry cleaner is on some "best of," or "top ten" list somewhere. When movies are judged nowadays the first criterion is their box-office success. Artistry, story flow, acting, plot are way down the list.
I just now got an email from The New York Times, of course, "The 10 Best Books of 2024."
I read a lot of books.
Maybe 40 a year.
And I respect The New York Times. Since there are no more bookstores staffed by people who can read, I rely on book reviews from quasi reputable outlets to guide me to my next book.
What's more, I really have nothing against lists like these.
But it's helpful to remember how much they play to your own insecurities. That you couldn't identify leading books, coffee shops or efficacious agencies without some outside verification.
What's missing in all this is an essential part of being human.
I used to talk about it a lot with my daughters when they were starting their adult lives. If they were applying to a university or for a job, they'd invariably say, "I don't have exactly what they're looking for. I'm short on such-and-such." As if that were a fatal flaw.
I'd answer simply.
Everything good that happens in life comes from a leap-of-faith.
Our current global stagnation--stagnation in every sphere whether its technology, advertising, politics or whatever--is because we're not willing to try something new. We only want to try something proven.
In that safety lives ossification.
It's why I just saw all these articles featured prominently in Ad Age. Yet I haven't seen five good ads this entire year. Yet there are 52 creative campaigns I need to know about.
That's ossification.
Maybe one of the top 10 words of the year.
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