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August 2023

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In business, people generally treat you how you treat them.

But what’s not so obvious is that, in business, people treat you how you treat yourself, too.

Old Post Office. 

Old Post Office is our two little holiday homes in Northumberland.

Both are so very carefully and precisely considered.

We treat the rooms and the whole experience with a lovely big helping of care and creativity.

And this has a very pleasant side effect.

Apologise.

Sometimes, when guests leave us, they apologise.

They apologise because they have not been able to return their little temporary home back to exactly how they found it.

This, of course, is not our expectation.

But how nice it is that many people seem to care as much about this thing created as we do.

Treat Yourself.

So it would seem that, in business, if you want customers to treat you with care and respect.

All you have to do is to treat them, and yourself that way – first.

Running a brand that makes things is interesting.

Because even after you conceived, designed, made and sold your thing.

The thing is still yours.

It’s Still Yours. 

What I mean is, you’re still responsible for it.

And it for you.

Because right after you sell the thing you conceived, designed and made.

People experience and talk about your thing.

They talk about whether it faltered, failed and disappointed.

Or whether it surprised, delighted and flew.

And whatever it is they say impacts your brand.

And you feel that as if you really do still own the thing.

After all, it’s your thing they’re talking about.

The impact and the influence never leaves.

Pick The Best.

So because the thing you made it’s still yours even after you conceived, designed, made and sold it.

Pick the best materials you can.

Pick the best makers.

Hone the design.

Then hone it again.

And you might even do something weird like I did with Always Wear Red.

Weird.

Once the Always Wear Red hand knit collection was complete.

I invited the best hand knitter we had to stay at AWR HQ for three days.

And all I asked Eleanor to do was to imagine where all 20 sweaters, years down the line, were most likely to fail first.

Then, to do some ‘Predictive Darning.’*

It looked amazing!

More interesting.

The product as tougher.

And I was more comfortable with the truth that, even after the hand knits were sold.

They were still mine.

They were still saying something – about me.

Something personal.

And that’s why I really do think you own that thing you made forever.

Even after you sold it.

*Made Up Term.

Just this week I was helped to think about something in a new way.

By someone I like and respect.

Direction versus Imposition.

I was made to think about the difference between direction and imposition.

The difference between guiding, and telling.

And it was useful.

Because I sometimes get this wrong.

Trust. 

Trust is the key.

For me, anyway.

This discussion opened my eyes to the fact that instead of addressing the problem.

(Why I don’t trust).

I can sometimes mask the problem by plopping another problem on top.

(Imposing instead of directing).

55 Years.

It’s good for me to take a look at this.

I feel ready.

And it’s only taken 55 years to acknowledge that I might need to improve.

Hey ho.

Most marketing content isn’t very good.

This, sadly, is a given.

Knowing how to be noticed.

Or apparently even caring about being noticed.

For good reason not bad.

Is rare.

Aim High.

But if we do want to ponder how to be noticed.

We can learn from others.

And when it comes to picking our ‘others’.

We should aim as high as we can.

First Things Last.

On the subject of getting noticed, headlines are important.

The first thing you say is important.

That’s the hook.

That’s what stops you from being ignored.

That’s what draws them in.

And even though it’s the first thing you want them to read.

It’s probably the last thing you should write.

So you can give your headline the attention it deserves.

Opening Lines.

So on the subject of,

“…when it comes to picking our ‘others’.

We should aim as high as we can.”

I suppose you can choose your opening lines as somewhere between:

“It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.”

and,

“We are delighted and humbled to announce that we won some work with The Lines Brothers last week.

Here, let me tell you about it…”

Or somewhere between,

“It was love at first sight. The first time he saw the chaplain, Yossarian fell madly in love with him.”

and,

“Hey how are you? I am reaching out to my network as I am researching applications of ethical AI. Do you happen to know any data scientists or businesses facing these types of challenges?”

It’s the difference between being immediately turned on and being immediately turned off.

It’s the difference between your eyes widening, and your head shaking.

It’s the difference between ‘Wow; what the hell is this?!’ and ‘Christ, here we go again!’

And whilst we mere mortals are neither George Orwell nor Joseph Heller.

And whilst writing in such intensely storyful ways is not quite right for, say, LinkedIn.

I see no reason to not to at least try to understand them.

To analyse them.

To aspire to be able to attract and enthral as they do.

I see no reason to not to at least try to be the best we can.

Try.

Most marketing content isn’t very good.

This, sadly, is a given.

Knowing how to be noticed.

Or apparently even caring about being noticed.

For good reason not bad.

Is rare.

There are many more Auteurs out there than the world experiences.

And that’s a shame.

It’s a shame because the only thing stopping the Auteur from blossoming.

Is the Auteur them self.

Colourful.

It’s a shame because Auteurs make the world infinitely more colourful for all of us.

And they inspire others to, like them, be their true self.

It’s a shame also because that self-suppressing Auteur, the one responsible for denying the world of their unique and inspiring self.

So that they themselves lose.

And the world loses.

Might actually be you.

What’s an Auteur?

“An auteur is an artist with a distinctive approach, usually a film director whose filmmaking control is so unbounded and personal that the director is likened to be the “author” of the film, thus manifesting the director’s unique style or thematic focus.”

You know;

Quentin Tarantino.

Tim Burton.

Wes Anderson.

Sofia Coppola*.

Alfred Hitchcock.

You ‘know’ their work.

But this is not just about film.

It’s about writing.

And painting.

And singing.

It’s about building brands, too.

Marketing.

Design.

And business.

Imagine. 

Imagine this conversation,

“Quentin, got a minute?

Quentin, I think that last scene was slightly too violent.

And you keep skipping genre.

No one does that Quentin.

Do you think you could calm down a bit?”

Or this conversation,

“Freddie, it’s too long.

And can you focus, please?

Is it rock?

Opera?

A ballad?

And what the fuck is a Bohemian Raspberry or whatever you said, anyway?”

Stop it.

Stop it.

Pack it in.

Stop conforming.

Especially when you know you know what’s best for you.

Conforming is utterly fucking boring.

Especially in brand building, marketing, design, and business.

Stop letting clients remove ‘you’ from the work.

And don’t let anyone tell you that your work is not creative work.

Any work area is either creative, or not creative – depending on what you decide.

So you decide if it’s creative.

What kind of creative.

And by how much.

Not them.

Be an Auteur.

There are many more Auteurs out there than the world experiences.

And that’s a shame.

It’s a shame because the only thing stopping the Auteur from blossoming.

Is the Auteur them self.

It’s a shame because Auteurs make the world infinitely more colourful for all of us.

And they inspire others to, like them, be their true self.

It’s a shame also because that self-suppressing Auteur, the one responsible for denying the world of their unique and inspiring self.

So that they themselves lose.

And the world loses.

Might actually be you.

*’Lost in Translation’ is great.

Peak Feelings are those intense, positive feelings you get as a business owner that really jolt you. 

Feelings that you’ll remember forever.

And I know that this definition of ‘Peak Feelings’ is accurate, by the way.

Because I just made it up.

From Business to Brand.

Anyhow, here are a few Peak Feelings I remember from Always Wear Red.

I remember them as Peak Feelings vividly.

Because they were almost physical.

And these Peak Feelings include the very moment I knew that Always Wear Red had moved from Business… to Brand.

Peak Feelings.

  1. Honing and simplifying the brand so that we couldn’t simplify it any further (it’s hand written on the pad on the homepage).
  2. When both Zoë Rocha and Ralf Little agreed to become shareholders.
  3. Launching the website just before midnight on February 13th 2016.
  4. Unboxing (most) made product.
  5. The moment the very first stranger paid money for a thing we’d created.
  6. Getting a hand written letter from a customer, saying thank you.
  7. Processing the 2 returns. (That’s not 2% returns. That’s 2 returns. In 7 years).
  8. Reading a two-sentence social media conversation about Always Wear Red. It went something like…

Person 1: “Is that an Always Wear Red beanie you’re wearing in that photo?”

Person 2: “I wish!”

That was the moment I knew that Always Wear Red was no longer (just) a business, by the way.

We were a brand.

I Quit.

Having said all that.

I’ve also written about why I am quitting Always Wear Red in 2023.

I’ll post that soon.

I recently updated my ‘About’ bit on LinkedIn.

It’s much better than it was before.

Here’s why.

How To Write About Yourself.

When I write about myself how I wrote about myself on my ‘About’ LinkedIn profile recently.

(See ‘About’: https://www.linkedin.com/in/hellomychael/)

It felt like me sitting in a chair.

My chair.

And just speaking.

About me.

From my own perspective.

And that was that.

The Previous Version.

The previous version was different.

The previous version was me writing about awards and client benefits and experience and client names and bleah and bluh and nyeh.

That felt like me stood up, looking back at myself sat in the chair, and writing what I (thought I could) see from the clients perspective.

This approach sounds like the thing to do.

But it isn’t.

Because this latter approach is too sanitised and filtered and contrived.

And it’s pretty much what everybody else does too.

So if you write like this too then, obviously, you’ll disappear.

Sit Down.

If you want to know the best way to write about yourself.

So people know you and understand you quickly.

Sit down.

Sit in that chair.

Your chair.

And just speak.

I’ve long had a hatred of being interrupted by rude, lazy marketers.

Marketers telling me to use Grammarly or whatever-it’s-called because my writing is crap.

Interrupting Max Richter when he’s working on calming me down after a long day.

It’s rude.

And it’s lazy.

And that’s one of the reasons why it was so nice to meet Adrian.

Meet Adrian.

I met Adrian from Da Vinci Creative whilst on a David Hieatt / Do Lectures writing course.

In Wales.

In June.

Adrian is the kind of guy that, when you’re talking to him, he first of all breathes in very deeply.

Just the once.

Before enthusing about his passion for about an hour-and-a-half without breathing in again once.

Thankfully, what Adrian says is all great.

And thankfully, Adrian’s passion is a passion of mine too.

Print.

Adrian Loves Print.

Adrian is a cheerleader for really great print.

I reckon Adrian snaps open and sniffs a freshly printed brochure each morning.

I reckon Adrian whispers ‘goodnight’ to the last glorious piece of print he’s created each night.

Stroking the cover.

Running a forefinger lovingly over the perfectly perfect bound spine.

Before laying it flat.

And giving it a little kiss.

But back to Adrian’s enthusing…

Adrian’s Brilliant Monologue.

All I wanted to say is this.

In amongst Adrian’s brilliant monologue about print.

He at one point paused slightly and asserted, slowly but sincerely, these three words:

“Print.

Is.

Polite.”

I immediately interrupted him.

“Adrian”

I said.

“That, ‘Print is Polite’ thing.

Where’s that from?

Have you said that before?”

I asked.

“No.”

Said Adrian.

Before continuing his print love story.

And I actually don’t think, even now, that Adrian realises just how lovely what he said was.

I think that ‘Print is Polite’ is A Beautiful Truth.

Whilst so much ugly, noisy, interruptive digital nonsense is just, well; not.

So I wanted to say to Adrian that, I think, the essence of who he is as a professional might just be captured in these three lovely words.

‘Print. Is. Polite.’

Listen to Your Business Owner Friends.

And as a sign-off I also wanted to say to you – listen to your business owner friends.

Listen to their passion and help them to find their Beautiful Truth too.

Because it’s very hard for business owners to distill who and what they are, and what they believe in, into a few emotionally connecting words.

All it might take is for someone like you to listen.

Properly.

And point it out.

One of the biggest mistakes marketers make.

Is that they keep telling people things.

Stop Telling People Things. 

Just telling someone something isn’t even a story.

It’s boring.

And whilst transferring information from ‘here’ to ‘there’ may very well be part of the task.

It’s 10% of the task.

90% is about how the reader feels having read your thing.

Do This Instead. 

The best way to stop marketers from just telling people things is this.

Ask the marketer to measure the thing they wrote not with this question:

“What did I tell them?”

But with this question instead:

“How will they feel, having read the thing I just wrote.”

Because if the marketer can answer this second question appropriately, precisely and well.

What the marketer wrote is infinitely more likely to be read, remembered, acted upon or passed on.

It’s a Start.

This isn’t the whole story of course.

Writing really well is really hard.

But it’s a start.

Looking back can be a bad thing to do.

But sometimes.

It’s good.

1987

In the summer of 1987, I was 18.

That’s the year I was driven from a Derby ‘home’.

To a Newcastle Polytechnic home.

By a now-dead pisshead stepdad that, depending on alcohol content, swung between wife beater and bore.

Paving Stone.

In the summer of 2023.

37 years later.

As I attended some Northumbria University event or other.

I re-stood on the exact same paving stone that I had first stood on.

As I stepped slowly out of the pisshead’s car, 37 years before.

I Tried Hard.

In the summer of 2023 I tried  hard to position my feet in the exact same place.

Flat.

Together.

Pointing at The Claude Gibb Halls of Residence in exactly the same way.

I tried hard to see through the dirty windows of the 9th floor of Claude Gibb where I laughed and lived for 12 months, all those years ago.

And I tried hard to compare two moments.

2 Moments. 

In the summer of 1987, I was 18.

Stood on that paving stone, I was pleased to be facing an unknown future.

Because I’d had my fill of the fucked-up present that I knew.

And for that, I felt grateful.

Excited.

Alive.

In the summer of 2023, I was 55.

Stood on that paving stone, I was again pleased to be facing an unknown future.

Not because I’d had my fill of the fucked-up present that I knew.

Life’s good.

But because I realised that, in the 37 years between the two most memorable times I’d stood on that one paving stone.

I had avoided something that, back in 1997, worried me more than anything else.

I realised that as I stood on that paving stone in 2023.

37 years after being dropped off in Newcastle.

I realised I had not become the man that drove me there.

2023.

Looking back can be a bad thing to do.

But sometimes.

It’s good.