Advertising is my second career.
Yes, add another tally to the lawyer-turned-copywriter census. As a lawyer, I felt like a white-washed version of myself. I had to take my neon nail polish off every night before court. I wore suits that felt like local theater costuming of "bored lawyer." Color and expressiveness were seeping out of my pores, but I had nowhere to implement them. Other than my office walls. Which were a kaleidoscope outlier in an otherwise grey mole's den.
I started shopping my high school portfolio (one ad campaign, yes it was about smart cars) to anyone in Boston who would take the meeting. Eventually, I was told to only show this portfolio to my parents and go to Portfolio school. I did. And the very first day of the very first copywriting class, I knew right away—I had found what I was meant to do.
Now, I'm in my first full time advertising job at Wieden. And as someone living their dream, I see it as a duty and a privilege to sprinkle my environment with the color and expressive freedom I feel inside.
A handheld prop from our first social spot on Duracell. In which we brought Furbies back to life through the trusted power of Duracell. Spooky stuff.
To its right, you'll find an extra-large, extra-yellow Chinatown fan. I use it when I'm away from my medium-sized, clamped electric desk fan. I run hot. I'll often stand/sit directly in front of the fans in conference rooms. Like within an inch of its wind thrust. Regardless of whether it's a table discussion. Regardless of being called a "weirdo." It's my contribution to the robust culture here!
My little tray of necessities
Colorful, blindingly positive, make-this-inane-assignment-exciting Post-its.
Our Wieden + Kennedy Women "WKW" badge from a rallying meeting with Colleen DeCourcy. All of Wieden's women gathered in our dark auditorium to ruminate in awe of this marvel, who took a break from advertising to tour with the Rolling Stones. Because "why not?"
An overdue bill for storage of a children's book I wrote in law school, self-published and apparently forgot about. Damn you, When I Go to Law School!
Holographic star stickers.
"HBO. Who's ready?"
A "throwaway" line from one of my favorite Wieden CDs, re: HBO. My favorite part of this line is how it pretty much applies to any brand or product you can imagine. "Staplers. Who's ready?" "Golden Lakes Retirement Community: Who's ready?" "Bees: Who's ready?"
My beloved office phone
I go out of my way to place and receive calls through this boxy plastic space-waster. I actually call people from my cell phone and give them the number and have them call back. It's the "middleman" of office technology. The "BEE ZOH" is an anonymous note I found on my phone a year ago and can't remove. I don't have the heart. Don't ask me to.
My dog, Butters, won the second First Annual Matt Herman Dog Bracket. He was runner-up for the inaugural bracket (The First First Annual Matt Herman Dog Bracket). Last year he paraded around in "never nude" cutoff jean shorts. It wasn't enough. This year, he did less. He won. As is the way of advertising. Matt is a dogless copywriter who loves sport. Not sure how he became the totem for this grueling Best Dog in the Office March Madness Bracket, but we're all glad to have him. This trophy stays on my desk for one year.
I get the pleasure of sitting next to a dry erase wall. And since I'm a copywriter and don't see any children's menus to color ... it looks like this is my means of artistic expression. Today, I expressed my dog, Butters. Lying with great fatigue. Staring his favorite toy in its dead eye. On a bear. I change these out when I have a lull in work. Previously I've sketched co-workers' profiles. And pregnant Beyoncé on a red-headed unicorn, to cheer my partner, Grace, up. Beyoncé is her north star.