Thursday, 26 August 2010

Why I Hate Wieden + Kennedy

You'll be glad to know it's not a complicated argument this. As simple as a hiccuping infant in fact. But the reason I absolutely HATE Wieden's, with a pair of tiny, impotent fists and gnashing jaws, is because they are SO fucking good, and I, frankly, am not.

At one stage I loved them. Respected them. I'd get all nervous and shy just commenting on their blog, blushing like an awkward teenager walking past the sixth form girls changing room. Not because I was a pervert or anything (honestly sir) I just didn't want them to laugh at me. Because their work was so much better than any of the shit, nasty, cynical, ugly, childish advertising I was used to. Their's was how advertising should be and what I aspired to. Not just in terms of the creative, but in the strategy, and businessy bits too. The bits creatives aren't meant to be interested in. Those killer propositions, hammered-out, worked up, re-worked and refined into elegant, ruthlessly simple strategies, backed-up by perfectly pitched, lovingly crafted creative. You just can't bloody argue with Wieden's. Look, even their rabbits have got cool fucking headphones on!

Of course, you might put some of their success down to the hippie, "optimist" ethics they seduce their clients with, or maybe all of their clients are already hippie optimists in the first place. Even so, it takes a damn sight more than optimism and a shared interest in vegan food or fixed gear bicylces to produce work as (apparently) effortless and uncompromised as theirs. Because whilst Wieden's have always had a very clear fucking idea of what they're about, the only people they seem to know even better than themselves, are their clients.

And that, Mr & Mrs Reader, is why I am shit. Or at least, by comparison. Because as Wieden's are enjoying fruitful, loving, long-term relationships with their clients, the agencies I (tend to) work for are all drunk and abusive, having dirty, unfulfilling sex with their clients behind the Biffa bins at end of the night.

So as much as I do hate Wieden's nowadays, it's possible I don't quite hate them as much as I hate myself.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to embrace my failure even further... Reckon if I spike her drink she'll let me squeeze her tits too.

1 comment:

Leon said...

Uh. Ah share yer pain, man. A wet dream. Fucking hippies.