Fear no evil…

As adults, I think we forget how to be afraid (be very afraid), therefore losing the invaluable benefit experiencing fear provides.

I much preferred encountering fear as a kid. It seemed bloody awful at the time – and Little Me would scorn Big Me for making such an arrogant statement. But, I genuinely believe that the fear you experience as a child is so much more productive and life defining than any of the rational (or likely, irrational) worries you amass as an adult.

Little Me, definitely aligned with The Oxford English Dictionary’s first definition of fear:

“An unpleasant emotion caused by the threat of danger, pain, or harm.”

As a child, it was a visceral sensation; truly unpleasant, and very much fuelled by the imagination. In my case, a wildly overactive one at that.

Growing up, I’d managed to bury and repress most, if not all, of my childhood fears. And I actually forgot what either caused them, or what they felt like. That was, until Kirsty and I made an unplanned trip to the pictures…

We went to see Andrés Muschietti’s new spin on one of my childhood favourites, and Stephen King’s 1986 masterpiece, IT. In terms of movie making and for entertainment value, it’s a solid 7/10, perhaps a 7.5. Big Me is super-nostalgic when it comes to things from Little Me’s past – so, if I wasn’t such a pragmatic critic, I’d probably give it 9.5. It’s an 80s pastiche masterpiece (Stranger Things really lead the way here recently) in terms of look, feel, score and character narrative. HOWEVER, that’s not what got me…

IT reminded Big Me of the things Little Me really feared – I’ll come back to what these ‘things’ really boil down to. What’s strange now, is that these ‘fears’ (well-deserving of their inverted commas), seem rather less menacing – and carry a far deeper meaning. Watching Bill Skarsgård nail his portrayal of Pennywise the Dancing Clown (says a big Tim Curry fan) took me back to witness my childhood fears again, firsthand*. This time though, from the outside looking in. Not only did everything appear rather retrospectively rational (despite what my parents told me) – but the fear seemed warranted and relevant, and it made me long for that feeling again. So I set about trying to understand why I miss it and why it (only now) made so much sense… Bear with me here.

Big Me’s take on IT, and my longing for its childhood fear qualities, aligns far better with Oxford’s fourth definition of the word:

“A mixed feeling of dread and reverence.”

So – if that was Big Me’s contemporary understanding of Little Me’s fears, then what did I fear today? How have my fears developed into 2017, and produced this weird yearning for my childhood worries and anxieties?

Sadly, it’s not nearly as exciting as fear of the Bogeyman (or evil incarnate – which I’m coming to). The things that I dread and fear these days – that wake me up in a cold sweat and have me scrambling for the comforting glow of my iPhone screen – seem altogether pathetic and pointless. Yet, I’m still paralysed, sometimes crushed emotionally and physically, by their terrifying power. So, how do they manifest themselves?

Well, most often in the form of receiving emails, thinking about work-life balance and worrying about Brexit…

…Cue a face-palm and giggle from Little Me at this very thought, as he pedals off to Morningside park to start fires and kiss girls.

Fears nowadays suck. I can’t think of a better way to put it. They’re actually really tough to recognise and should be really easily managed – yet they’re entirely all-consuming and insurmountable at the same time.

SO – it looks like Oxford’s second and third definitions of fear are now what Big Me wrestles with daily:

“A feeling of anxiety concerning the outcome of something.”

“The likelihood of something unwelcome happening.”

This is where I think the Little Me fears, and my desire to experience them once again, really stand up against Big Me’s distinct lack of understanding as to what’s causing my anguish. I’ve asked myself what the fundamental difference between the two is… And here’s my half-baked theory:

Big Me lacks the primordial fear of evil. Please bear with me!

What New Line’s baddies do so very well, is personify a malevolence (evil) that represents the unknown. As humans, we tend to demonise/turn from that which we do not know, recognise or trust. More often than not, we end up labelling the unfamiliar with a subconscious sense of potentially ‘wicked, harmful and unpleasant’. As a kid, this is ultimately what I feared the most – the unseen and unknown. Pennywise and Freddy capitalise on this beautifully – taking fear of the unknown (growing up, rites of passage, becoming an adult) and giving them a very recognisable face and presence.

Which begs the question, how do the heroes in these silver-screen sensations triumph?

Pretty simple really; they face their fears. They confront evil. They, essentially, get to grips with the unknown and accept their rites of passage.

The recognise that their fear generates and feeds the evil within – so, once they understand and confront it, there’s very little left to fear, apart from fear itself!

So, my Big Question of The Day, is:

What would Little Me say to Big Me about the fear I experience today?

I think he’d be surprised at the things I’m scared of (electronic messages and post-Brexit Europe). Big Me would agree with this – and be quick to admit to Little Me, that based on the above theory, the above examples are actually great illustrations of the unknown. Which is inherently what drives Little Me’s fear, and manifests as evil. Big Me would also point out that, as you grow up, your intuition changes and tries to convince you that:

  • There are less unknowns (you’re a grown up, act like one)
  • You’re in control (erm – you’re a grown up, please act like one)
  • You’re weak/nuts to think otherwise (you’re a bloody grown up, act like one!)

Therefore, what could Big Me learn from Little Me, in dealing with evil (the fear generated from the unknown)? Simple – recognise it, admit it and confront it. Don’t hide from it. Don’t become a slave to it. Otherwise, you’ll end up being consumed by it. I must admit, this is the skill I’ve totally lost/forgotten about as an adult. My fears seem very different, and not inherently evil – so I ignore/quash them. But, that’s because I’ve forgotten how to fight them. I’ve forgotten what it takes to crush the unknown. Let’s be honest – email is genuinely evil and Brexit is an actual nightmare.

Here’s a terrible graphic explanation of what I’m getting at:

Slide1.jpg

WOW. Thanks Little Me – I’ll genuinely apply that thinking. Too often, I get lost in a world of work and stress, never actually confronting or dealing with my own evils and subsequent fear. I’m going to step back, and see how I can confront these unknowns. It’s not always easy, when every email message that comes into my inbox sends my heart racing at the prospect of what it contains. But I reckon there are far smarter ways of dealing with this specific model. Perhaps I could concentrate on not becoming a slave to the motion/machine, and having a better understanding of what it is the people who are contacting me are looking for? A face-to-face follow-up normally always helps untangle the mysteries of an email’s tone and/or content. Little ME could be on to something here.

To finish, Big Me has one last point to argue internally, with glib Little Me – what about the evil that exists in the world today, that’s not an extraterrestrial or supernatural manifestation of the unknown? What about the evil of humankind – the evil of people? Big Me asks this specifically just after another bona fide nut-bar has tried to blow-up innocent people on the London Underground, thankfully, failing to take any lives this time but nonetheless further spreading the panic/hatred for the evil of terrorism.

Little Me would respectfully remind Big Me, without pretending for a second to truly understand the mentality of terrorists, or the complex political/religious drivers, that more often than not, it’s still a fear of the unknown at play. A lack of understanding stemming from something, that’s become so twisted and misconstrued over the decades (and centuries) that we’re unable to see the root for what it is.

Thanks Little Me. I’ll take some of that wisdom. Breaking down fear/evil and trying to understand more about (and confront) the unknown, ain’t a bad way to approach things in life.

FOOTNOTES:

*It’s worth pointing out, that 2017’s IT was masterfully crafted by the same production house, New Line Cinema, who gave birth to the ultimate (and my favourite) Bad Guy – Freddy Krueger. Not dissimilar in traits and evil impersonation, to Pennywise.

[Headline image credit to New Line Cinema]

It makes scents

I believe smell is our most interesting, and probably the most commercially untapped, sense. After working for 10 years in creative communications and marketing, I also think it’s an unsung hero when it comes to building brand awareness and loyalty. I’m not talking about those prehistoric, peel-back perfume panels you found in copies of GQ, that 14 year-old you ripped open and rubbed enthusiastically on your wrists/neck at WH Smiths, in the vein hope it would send the local females stampeding to your location (a la Lynx). No, definitely not. I’m talking about powerful and memorable, actual, real life experiences with products or services.

PANIC NOT – this isn’t a poor excuse for creation of some Mickey Mouse business content, to boost my career ego (although…) Like the last few pieces I’ve thrown together, there’s a sprinkling of nostalgia in this one*, for very good reason.

Incredibly, 75 percent of our bodily reactions and emotions are triggered by smell. When it comes to memory in particular, smell kicks the butt of its sibling, sight. Visual recall is about 50% accurate after three months, whereas people can remember, recall and describe smells with approximately 65% accuracy after an entire year. This probably has something to do with the fact that our sight relies on four kinds of light sensors within the eye, while we boast over 1,000 different smell receptors. And they constantly regenerate and evolve.

For me, smell is a very visceral sense – especially when it comes to memory. ‘So is hearing, and so is taste’, I hear you cry. Don’t get me wrong, our other senses are remarkable – and command individual respect. We know taste and smell are very closely linked – smell accounts for 75-95% of our taste experience. But smell is actually our very first sense to develop, before we’re even born. It’s fully functional and perfectly formed the very second we escape the warm clutches of the womb. Smell also stimulates the brain’s limbic system; regarded as the primitive bit of our head-coral because similar structures were present in the brains of planet earth’s first mammals.

Here are four smells that evoke something pretty raw and magical in my memories. Some are relatively new, and others have been with me for three decades:

1) Suncream. Specifically the Nivea brand, in those big blue bottles with the yellow tops. It instantly transports me to family holidays: Spain, The French Alps, America, Australia and even the tropical north of Scotland! We were very lucky as kids; one thing mum and dad truly believed was the broadening of our little horizons, with annual trips to some pretty impressive places. My positive holiday associations with the sweet smell of suncream are endless – beaches, my siblings, sunshine, heat (maybe not in Scotland), ice cream, Fanta, salted skinny chips, the sea, villas, boats, bays, mountain walks, etc. For me, suncream = warmth and happiness.

2) Tom Ford fragrances. Specifically Oud Wood and London. For anyone who claims their preferred perfume or Eau de Whatever doesn’t last throughout the day – try some Tom. His fragrance line is incredible, super-pricey, but incredible. I actually can’t put my finger on the exact things they evoke – to be honest, I think it’s some really primordial stuff. Oud Wood literally carries you to the Middle East (I promise I’m not on commission). And the rather commanding London has a hint of what I can only describe as ‘musk on steroids’**. The smells completely alter when worn by different people, and sometimes catch your breath – his Tuscan Leather offering is too much for me, but genuinely whiffs like old Chesterfield, if that’s your thing. In short, Mr Ford’s potent potions take me to places I’ve never visited before, and stir in me, some of life’s more primitive thoughts/emotions. Now that’s pretty cool.

3) Freshly cut grass. I spent a lot of time outside as a kid. Either in our back garden or local park. From April thru September/October, the grass was always long and soft enough to chase each other on, play football on, or just roll around on. It was also regularly cut, thanks to its impressive growth rate, stimulated by our rather wet summer climate. Those cuttings are the smell of friendship, reminding me of summers with pals, siblings and very few cares (and fewer cars). Walking past cut grass gardens or parks nowadays makes me smile from ear to ear, and remember pals I thought I’d forgotten about.

4) Hot metal & oil. Ok, this is probably the weirdest one – or at least, that which is most unique to me. It’s closely linked to the holiday thing again, and does evoke happiness. But beyond that, it reminds me why I love TV and movies as much as I do. Florida is warm pretty much all year round, especially for a Scot. In fact, it’s hot – really hot. It also plays host to some of the best theme parks in the world. Universal Studios is a particular favourite of mine – and has been since the first time I visited, aged seven, right through until my fifth or sixth trip last year. When you mix theme parks and heat, you get some very interesting smells. Yep – candy floss, hot dogs, cookies, popcorn and all the other food-goodies a park has to offer. But next time you visit, and step inside/outside one of the attractions – see what you can smell. I finally cracked it last year, when Kirsty and I were in Harry Potter World. It’s the scent of the very hot metal/oil and moving parts that power the rides and machinery that I’m talking about. It gives off a really pleasing mechanical smell (almost in the same vein as petrol) and reminds me of thrills, excitement and movies. Told you it was weird.

If smell can be this powerful, when it comes to memory recall and stimulation of emotion – then I reckon there’s some serious spare legroom when it comes to commercial, creative development of brands and products.

I like to think I’m a wee bit savvy, after working in marketing for around a decade, and am proud to recognise (and circumvent) most of the visual tricks and design practices brands use for ‘engaging the customer’. In the same vein, I like to think my ears are even better trained when it comes to the use of things like NLP sales techniques and ambient in-store music to ease consumers into purchase.

But good old advertising smell-tactics get me every time.

I reckon they tap into the mantra of my above examples, in the same kind of way. But when they’re specifically linked to buying things and positive experience of a brand, I’m shafted; hook, line and sphincter. Some great global executions of this technique include:

  • Singapore Airlines – aim to reduce passenger anxiety and the stench of stale cabin air, by spraying their own scent into the aircraft fuselage and on to hot towels.
  • Abercrombie & Fitch – like to hammer your senses with their Fierce cologne, sprayed in-store and on all merchandise, to create a permanent scented memory of your purchase, their products and the experience.
  • JW Marriott – blast their own unique scent, ‘Subtle Sophistication’, around their lobbies and hotel rooms. Described as ‘soft and fresh, with a hint of citrus’, it appeals to both business travellers and holidaymakers alike – and can even be bought as candle.

Sensory brand expert, Carlos Jose Hinolan, describes how and why this works for us:

“With scent-diffusing technology, you can create a distinct aroma for your brand that will not only add to recall, but also trigger specific feelings with your consumers… Scent marketing can “amplify consumer spending, attract customers, and create memorable brands.”

I’d like to see more brands explore these techniques. However, I think this can be somewhat limited to those brands that offer tangible products or physical experiences. It’s nice to believe a bank could have a recognisable scent. Something that you smell when you walk into a branch, or, when you receive your new Visa card in the post? Perhaps a bold, but calming and welcoming scent – something that instils trust and reassurance could go a long way in building bank brand loyalty? Yet, reality suggests this would be a waste of time when physical finance paraphernalia is becoming increasingly redundant in our post-digital world, and more and more branches are shutting every day***.

So maybe this is a bit of a cry for sensory help, from an already too jaded (and still relatively young) marketing and communications professional. In the digital age, a centillion 1s and 0s have revolutionised our brand experiences; albeit, through a succession of screens and swipes. Should we, therefore, invest a little more in promoting an experience when it comes to product interactions in the ‘real world’?

As our physical contact with things becomes less and less necessary, I for one, would like to make sure when I do get exposed to brand tangibles, that it’s a wholly splendid encounter – and one that I remember for years to come. I want it to be etched in my olfactory memory forever, like Singapore Airlines and JW Marriott, or suncream and cut grass 😉

FOOTNOTES:

*I promise this isn’t my writing MO… yet.

** It smells like sex. In a good way. It’s very hard to describe. And now I sound very weird for liking/wearing it. Don’t laugh or nay-say until you’ve sniffed it.

*** Incredibly, this has been trialled on a micro-scale. At Ocean Bank in Florida, Senior Management agreed on creation of a brand scent called ‘Ocean Blue’, which fills the air in their 21 branches. Last I heard, they were even looking at scented pens and cheque-book covers!!

[Headline image credit to Universal Studios, Florida]

My killer creativity – five things I believed as a kid

Big thanks to a recent FB article and Channel Four’s ever entertaining, ‘The Secret World of Four/Five/Six Year-olds’ for inspiration with this piece.
When you’re small, you see the world in a very different way. That’s not purely down to your physical size (always staring upwards). It’s because you think in a fundamentally different way.

As a wean*, you’re in a pretty unique position – you don’t know a great deal.

This is a bit of a blessing for two reasons:

  • Firstly – you’re likely protected from, or vaguely unaware of, the bad in this world (though sadly, not all children are quite so lucky). You’re hopefully oblivious to the horrors of war, the tragedy of insidious substance abuse and the ridiculousness of Donald Trump being leader of the free world.
  • Secondly – you get to make your own mind up. And you get to make your own connections. The rules aren’t all written in your head. It’s time to get creative.

Sure, your parents, family, friends, school-chums et al can help guide your understanding of Planet Earth, and all its things, great and small. You’ve also got the information super-highway** – where you can search for all of life’s answers and consume ‘content’ til your heart’s content. But despite these epic knowledge support tools and sources, there will be the odd occasion, where you have to make up your own mind.

I asked a lot of questions as a kid. A lot. Almost drove my parents insane. And they (quite rightly) sometimes took the piss, just to shut me up, by providing answers that were, to say the least, light on the truth. Filling my head with, plausible, yet incorrect facts about our lives, the world and the way things are.

To amplify this – I indeed made my own assumptions about certain things. I was a fairly confident little chap – and when there were gaps in my knowledge or blanks on the page, I’d make shit up. I’d connect what I had in my head, with whatever seemed most likely (to a five year-old). And I’d accept it as truth.

The funny thing is, looking back, I truly believe these were some of the most neurologically interesting and cognitively creative thoughts I’ve ever had.

Here are five of the many things that I thought were true, as a kid:

ONE:

Remember VHS? Man, video was awesome. All that tracking adjustment and rewinding. Good times. At the Smith household, we recorded a lot of TV to video. I guess that’s just what you did in those days – for rainy days, before Netflix and VOD. In my tiny, creative mind, I believed that when you recorded something from TV, it could only be played back once. After it had been watched from the recording, that was it. Gone. Up in a puff of smoke and lost forever. This almost broke my heart circa 1989, when we captured Jim Henson’s magical Labyrinth on tape – and I thought I’d only get to see it again once. I got to work; planning how/when would be the best time to take advantage of this once in a lifetime opportunity to see Magic Dance once again (and Bowie’s crotch)… Then mum told me I was being stupid, and it was ours to keep/watch as many times as we wanted. Mind. Blown.

TWO:

Here’s another and one I can thank my dad for. “How do I get hairs on my body, like you, Dad”, four-year-old me asks… “Well son, you’ve got to rub a lot of salt on yourself. Then you pour a big glass of water – and put it next to you. Very slowly, all the wee hairs will start to come out, because they’ll be so thirsty, and desperate for a drink. When they do, you’ve got to CATCH THEM – QUICKLY! And tie each one in a knot – so they can’t escape back in again. And that’s how you get lots of hairs on your body.” Once again, mind blown. Though, I never got round to actually trying this (before I found out the truth), because it seemed like a right hassle. “Who needs hairs!?!”, I thought.

THREE:

Seeing black and white photos of my parents when they were wee, or my grandparents and their families really, really threw me. I thought to myself, “Our world and photos are in colour. But looking back, the old world and photos and movies are in black and white… So, there it is. The world must have been in black and white back then. Of course!” I truly believed that one day someone simply worked out how to ‘turn on the colour’, and hey presto! Realising years later that it was technology (and not our physical existence) that was unable to process colour in the olden days blew my mind once again.

FOUR:

In the late 80s there was a monster living in my house. Genuinely. A big, black one – like a mixture between The Wolfman and a Minotaur. And he was absolutely terrifying. I’ve got my parents to thank for this one too – as they planted the seed, and good lord, watered it daily and let it grow. Every kid has his or her monster story – sometimes they live under the bed, or in the closet. Ours dwelled in the attic, and was known affectionately as ‘The Hairy Monster’. What didn’t help things was dad owning a horrible black/hairy Halloween mask – which he took to wearing on the odd occasion and scaring the absolute piss out of us. I also vaguely remember him having a full-blown ‘fight’ in the loft one night, after he convinced us he could go up there and ‘sort the monster out’. This fucking thing literally haunted my dreams. I can still picture him now (exactly what he looked like in my head). Rather than blowing my mind, growing up to realise he didn’t actually exist, let along live in our house, actually gave me the greatest sensation of relief I’ve ever experienced.

FIVE:

As short-lived as this last belief was, the mind-battle I went through wrestling with the truth on this one still lives with me today. At the end of our garden is a big tenement block (flats). One breezy day, as child, I looked up to the top of the building, only to be horrified to see the building moving. Literally, moving. It looked like it was slowly falling towards me. Panicked, I swiftly retired to the house. Only to return later, and experience the same dizzying (and terrifying) sensation. HOW HAD I NOT NOTICED THIS BUILDING FALLING INTO OUR GARDEN BEFORE!?! After a few anxious days, I eventually quizzed my lovely mother about this horrifying situation – to which she replied, “It’s just the clouds blowing in the sky. It’s called an optical illusion.” Tiny little mind, like the clouds in the sky, blown…

I think these are all examples of creativity at its best.

If you boil it down, ‘being creative’ (which everyone on this planet is absolutely capable of, before someone says “but I’m not creative,”) is about making connections between things***. These connections can be obvious, they can be interesting, and they can be complex, or cathartic, thought provoking, or Machiavellian, you name it. As long as you’re connecting one thing to another, you’re effectively ‘being creative’. Mankind is obsessed with connections. Physical or psychological. It’s scientifically proven that they’re one of the ways we make sense of our broad, and somewhat complex, spectrum of human emotion. We look for them in almost everything we do, day in, day out – probably without ever realising that’s what we’re actually doing****.

And so, my mission (and I urge others to try the same) is to regress a little. When you’re facing a challenge (in work, personal life, or with family/friends) – try a little five-year-old YOU logic. Throw away a bit of what you already know, and make some connections – like you might have done as a kid. Before the world got you all wrapped up in its ways, rules and beliefs.

You might just come up with something pretty cool – like a black and white world, a hairy attic monster or buildings that move by their own accord.

🙂

FOOTNOTES:

*One of my favourite Scots words – meaning ‘children or babies’.

**As it was called on News Round in 1994, before people realised that was a shite name.

***I’ve formed this opinion after working in the creative industry for the last 10 years or so. It’s not new, nor mine – Steve Jobs is at least one dude I admire, who talked about creativity in this sense. Some of the most creative peeps I’ve worked and work with, are those that make these connections with ease. Quite often, the obvious ones, that no-body else is quick enough to get. Old-fashioned lateral thinking, dad would say.

****One of the most fascinating ways we do this is actually with people’s faces. Upon meeting someone new, whose face we’ve not seen before, we’ll immediately start flicking through our mind’s eye records of memorised faces to see who’s they’re most like/most closely connected to (whether the logged entry is someone we know personally, or not). That’s just how we’re wired.

[Headline image credit to the awesome Scott Murphy. Check out his incredible work – http://murphyillustration.blogspot.co.uk/2014/03/new-magic-minotaur-younghorn.html?m=1%5D