Demographic

“Deer+Almond people aren’t the same people as Moxies people,” said a friend, sorting through the target audience of a campaign she was putting together.

Of course not. They’re so different.

She was right. Right?

Deer+Almond people wear knitted toques and corduroy. Moxies people wear backwards caps and lettermans.

Right?

Right.

Wait a minute, I thought, as I sat down at a table in the dim St. Vital Moxies. Wait just a minute.

Am I a Moxies person?

Well, I’m here.

But, I’ve been to Deer+Almond, too.

I have a toque, but I don’t own corduroy. I wear a backwards cap sometimes, but I don’t own a letterman.

Am I a Deer+Almond person?

Is anyone?

Maybe.

Maybe more people are a bit of both.

Maybe more people are a bit of everything.

Maybe it’s just helpful to sort people into easily targeted categories. Fair enough. I can get down with that.

But, how can my advertising, my writing, my marketing, my whatever, recognize that there are Deer+Almond+Moxies people? How do I talk to people, not demographics?

Can I? Should I?

So many questions. And, I only have, like, seven weeks to figure it out.

Then, I’ll graduate. Then, I’ll know everything.

Right?

Here’s what I had at Moxie’s Grill and Bar:

This image was stolen via the dark powers of the internet.

Parmesan chicken & crispy prosciutto sandwich: on ciabatta bread with house-made herbed cheese, roasted red pepper sauce & baby arugula leaves.

Impressions: The herbed cheese gives the sandwich a fresh smell and flavour, marrying nicely with the arugula leaves. The ciabatta bread is no different than the ciabattas elsewhere, but the soft, dense sandwich holders lovingly embrace the cheese-crusted chicken.

What made it? Crispy prosciutto. Salty, crispy, crunchy. The large slices of prosciutto were the star of this otherwise classic sam.

Doubt

Sometimes, I hate everything I write. Sometimes, I will stare at my computer screen and choke.

I’ll look at my words and I will hate them.

And I will feel that hate burning and bubbling at the bottom of my throat.

I am a writer. I know this because I write. I know this because I’ve written. I know this because I plan to keep writing.

Still, sometimes, I will read a blog post or a headline or a story or a text message or a tweet and I will think:

This is bad.

I’ll look at my stupid words and I’ll tell myself that it’s not enough just to write.

I’ll tell myself that I have to be a good writer. I’ll tell myself that I am not a good writer. I’ll wonder if I’ll ever be a good writer.

I read this article on What Nobody Tells Young Creatives. For a moment, it made me feel better. For a moment, I convinced myself that recognizing my own bad writing was the first step in becoming a good writer.

Doubt has a way of dodging reason.

It can root deep in your thoughts despite Agency Post articles and despite improvement and despite advice and despite mentors and despite peers and despite support and despite success.

Maybe doubt lives here, in this creative world, and is a neighbour I’ll learn to deal with.

Maybe I’ll find motivation in doubt.

Or, maybe it will consume me and my fingers will paralyze, for the last time, just above the keyboard.

For now, I’ll keep writing.

I’m new, right? I’m young. I’m just starting out. That’s reason enough, right? That means I can stumble, right? That means I can write something bad and learn from it and not have it drag me down like I’m carrying every black and white page of terrible writing I’ve ever squeezed out of my hands, right?

The Pint opened a new Winnipeg location. It’s new. It has some wrinkles to iron, but I hope people will forgive it. I hope people will give it a chance to learn and improve.

After all, it’s only there to serve people.

Here’s what I had at The Pint:

Rocky Mountain Club: Grilled chicken, bacon, tomatoes, cheddar cheese, lettuce and maple mayo on fresh pretzel bread. 13.00

Impression: Classic clubhouse. The pretzel bread was soft and dense, a nice change from slices of toast. The sandwich, which includes a side, was enough to feed two people.

What made it? Maple mayo. One of my dinner buddies said she was expecting “more of a funky mayo.” I liked the subtlety of the maple. It wasn’t strong, but it gave the sandwich an earthy, rustic personality.

Special mention: Fries. Holy bajeezus those are some tasty fries.

Underground

“It’s pretty obscure so you probably don’t know about it. It’s, like, really underground.”

Ok. Yeah, I probably don’t. Unless you mean Erebor, the underground Dwarf city in northern Middle Earth.

Then I definitely do.

You’d think that, as a twenty-something spending most of my days in The Exchange District, I’d be a little more hip.

You’d think.

And you’d be wrong.

And you’d tell me how there is no right and no wrong – just systems of oppression that support the ruling class and that I don’t have to live for The Man and that I should grow a beard.

And I’d watch The Lord of The Rings again. Now those are beards.

Sometimes, though, I like to pretend I am with-it. Cool. Happening. Fresh.

“Have you heard this song?”

Yes, it’s totally my bag. (I haven’t and it’s totally not my bag)

“Have you been to a bubble party in an alley behind the bar?”

Yes, I love those. (What? Sounds messy)

This week, some trend-setting millennials took me out for a sandwich at Underground Cafe. We scooted there on our longboards, clutching our copies of Catcher In The Rye.

Holden Caulfield would’ve been all over this cafe.

It’s pretty obscure so you probably don’t know about it. It’s, like, really underground.

Seriously. Like, really underground. There are stairs.

Here’s what I had at Underground Cafe:

The Checker: Chicken, cheese, egg, mayo, and tomato on a  toasted bagel. $5.99

Impressions: This sandwich looked homemade. It looked like someone cared enough to piece it together just for me. The egg and chicken mix was seasoned lightly. The mayonnaise was spread thin, adding a quick zip to each bite.

What made it? Cool and crisp tomatoes. The red fruit is a staple in so many sandwiches, but really pulled this one together. The colour was a pretty contrast to the pale chicken and bagel. The cool freshness balanced the fluffy eggs.

This breakfast special comes with a coffee.

So trendy. If you’re into that slop.

Liondogs

My first experience at the Cannes Lions International Festival of Creativity was not what I expected.  Yes.  It was a film reel of award-winning advertisements, but:

I saw advertisements from years ago (apparently Winnipeg is behind the times).

I saw advertisements for Lady Gaga.

I bought a ticket in advance, but met no one who asked to see or rip or scan or look at it.

It was not what I expected.

Still, it was awesome.  The most talked about ad that night was Toshiba and Intel’s The Beauty Inside film.  Shown in approximately 4 000 episodes, the 10 000 minute film told the story of Alex, who wakes up in a new body every morning.

While the audience (including me) groaned before each new episode, I wondered how I’d feel if I saw this film somewhere else.  I wonder how I’d feel if I saw it at a movie theatre, or on YouTube.

I wonder how I’d feel if no one told me it was an ad.

Watch it, if you’ve got a free couple days, and let me know what you think of it.  Is it advertising?  Is it content?  Is it both?

Before the screening, I visited the Yellow Dog Tavern on Donald Street.  You should go.  Before anything.  After anything.  Whenever.

Here’s what I had at the Yellow Dog Tavern:

Philly Cheese Steak Panini:  steak strips grilled to perfection topped with sauteed onions, peppers, cheese & white wine peppercorn sauce on an Italian panini.  $11.00

Impressions:  Loaded with impressive chunks of steak.  I’ve found steak sandwiches to have either one long plank of meat resembling cardboard (Fox and Fiddle) OR a thin layer of shaved ‘steak.’  The Yellow Dog Tavern is leaps and bounds ahead of others I’ve had in the city. The sauteed onions and peppers were few but gave the sandwich a sweet crunch.  The sandwich comes with a choice of salad or homemade kettle-cooked potato chips.  Get the chips.  You also get a small cup of french onion dip, complete with sweet shreds of onion.

What made it? White wine peppercorn sauce.  This savoury and sweet sauce was the perfect creamy contrast to the crunchy bread.  Thicker than other peppercorn sauces, this brings the rest of the sandwich together perfectly.