Last week, Malachy the Pekingese won “Best in Show” at the 2012 Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show. From the time that the news spread online, the comments came fast and furious about his looks, ranging from “adorable” to “ugly” to “strange” to “mop-like”.

To be expected, this Pekingese was not the kind of dog/breed everyone would be expected to automatically agree on as cute, like the Cesar dog food mascot, or either of the two beagles I had in my childhood home, who were pretty much “classic beagle” types and looked like their photos belonged on dog product labels, too.

But Malachy the Pekingese is different.

So different that he – pardon the pun – got tongues wagging.

A lot.

His win got people engaged and commenting, eliciting strong opinions and judgments long after the Westminster judges had made their final selection. There’s a teachable moment for the advertising community here – maybe even a lesson about life in general.

Different gets people talking.

Novelty gets noticed.

The unusual invites comment and opinion.

Different is exciting.

How many times have you been in a meeting where an idea is so “different” that it gets shot down before it really has a chance? Imagine all of the ideas that “creative” came up with that ended up red-lighted when they could have been green-lighted?

Too risky.

Too edgy.

Too different.

This is true about life also. We let ourselves fall into old and comfortable patterns, take the safe and familiar path, and find ourselves saying, “I’ll have my usual” when we go to our favorite restaurants. Habits – healthy or unhealthy – sometimes have a way of stopping us from inviting novelty into our lives. The usual – the normal – is just so comfy sometimes.

We reach for the same style sweater each time we go shopping, maybe just with buttons that vary a little bit.

In advertising, it’s easy to default into “go safe” mode when there’s the pressure of a big account. But make no mistake:

Playing it too safe can be dangerous – dangerously boring and ordinary, that is.

Many of my friends and colleagues in the Ad biz were vocal about being underwhelmed by most of this year’s Super Bowl and Grammy commercials. A lot of them played it safe, used old formulas.

Of course there were standouts, such as the Chrysler Ad during the Super Bowl and the Chipotle Ad during the Grammys. Those commercials were like a breath of fresh air – they worked well because of their uniqueness. Their novelty did not go unnoticed. The buzz about those ads lasted long after the TV shows in which they appeared ended, and enjoyed a second wind online, especially on YouTube.

Westminster winner Malachy has similar staying power. People were fascinated by him when he won, and they’re still talking about him online.

It’s the power of different.

Final score:

Unique: 1. Ordinary: 0.

I’m a college basketball nut.

I live 40 miles from a historic and nationally recognized college basketball program that plays their games in Allen Fieldhouse, an arena revered as one of the best places in which to play college basketball. Yet as I was watching the action in this sweltering basketball mecca during a recent game, I realized that the best part of this program is not the continual conference titles, NCAA tournament appearances or All-America players that it produces.

The best part of having a tradition as rich as this one is the solidarity of sentiment about everything that is Kansas Basketball.

For people who aren’t sports fans, devotion to a particular team is somewhat difficult to understand.

What’s the big deal?

Why do college campuses seem so much more serene after a big loss and more jovial the day after a big win?

We love our Jayhawks.

Sure, there are times when the ball gets thrown away or a free throw clanks off the rim that we all groan in unison. But there are even more times when magical threes drop through the hoop and we pump our fists in the air in choreographed elatedness.

We aren’t shy about our expectations; we’re used to winning.

Heck, the creator of the game founded our collegiate program.

Some years, we grudgingly understand that winning a national championship isn’t a realistic expectation. This year was one of those years. In Kansas country, when our head coach tries to temper fans’ expectations in October, we know to prepare for games where we have to cover our eyes and avoid crowded bars during big games. Yet as the season unfolded, the Jayhawks still marched their way to first place in the league. That is, until their clash with hated rivals Missouri in Columbia.

There is no love lost between Kansas and Missouri fans.

Some supporters will have you believe that the rivalry goes back to the Civil War, when Missouri was a slave state and Kansas was a free state. In reality, while that talk adds fuel to the fire, very few fans of either school know the terror and animosity contained in the Civil War clashes.

And really, let’s be serious:

Civil War and massacres of towns will always be more important than touchdowns and free throws.

More recently, the rivalry is fueled by the simple fact that, in basketball, Kansas has dominated the history of the series. Missouri fans will quickly remind Kansas fans that football is another story, and Kansas fans will concede this point because we know that we’re a basketball school. This year the rivalry has reached new heights, partly because both basketball teams are ranked in the Top 10, and also due in part to the fact that this will be the last year Missouri will play in the Big 12.

Fans extolling either team have their feelings about the Tigers heading to the SEC, but the consensus among Kansas fans is that Missouri is turning their back on our league and our rivalry.

For most Kansas fans, “Good riddance” sums up our feelings about whether this year will be the last time we battle each other for Big 12 titles in any sport.

In their most recent matchup, which ended up being a barn burner where Missouri prevailed in their home arena, the announcers kept mentioning that the KU/MU matchup would be the last in Columbia.

As Kansas fans, we’re over it.

Missouri wants to continue the rivalry games in the coming years to “keep the rivalry alive”. Kansas fans just want them to go get their SEC money, and if they happen to get stomped by some other Tigers or Gators, so be it.

While this might sound petty or bitter, what it really is comes down to is that as much as we Kansas fans complain about the Tigers and their trash-talking, our rivalry and the passion and excitement it creates is very real.

We like the battles over who gets more coverage in The Kansas City Star.

We like the two-hour trek to Columbia to see if the Jayhawks can win in hostile territory.

Even in seasons where we have no chance to win a national championship, two wins over the Tigers was considered a successful year. We hate to admit it, but we’ll miss the Tigers. I’m pretty sure we won’t be jealous of the cross-country expeditions that they’ll have to take to cheer on their team at away games, but we will miss the intensity and cattiness that playing them brought to our season.

There is one more game to go.

On Feb 25 at historic Allen Fieldhouse in Lawrence, Kansas, the Jayhawks and Tigers will officially meet for the last time in Big 12 play.

It’ll be heated.

It’ll be intense.

And it’ll be the end to a rivalry that meant so much to so many.

Rock Chalk.

Speed. “It’s all happening so fast.”

Excited. Nervous.

Not knowing what to expect. Figuring it out as he goes.

Energy. “I love color.”

Color creates that vibe. That feeling. Emotions that he loves to share.

So many shades and hues. Searching for mediums to express it while encouraging society to use.

Different. Uplifting. Everywhere.

Creativity. “I want to show people something they’ve never seen before.”

Stop. Stare.

Think. Get inspired.

Things you’ve never seen before – yet somehow feel almost familiar.

Combinations in concert with one another beyond what presently, supposedly exists.

New. Crazy. Infinitely promising.

Black Culture. “It’s about connection points.”

Hair and skin.

Fashion and style.

Language.

What’s shared becomes unique.

Strength. Celebrated together. Love.

Hip-hop. “The soundtrack of my life.”

Lyrics become conversation; discourse shaped and molded by the bar.

Raw. Gritty. Gangsta.

Lived. Breathed. Evolved.

Poetry for our generation.

Cool $#!&. “When you see it, you know it.”

People, places and things.

Saying nothing, yet saying everything in between.

Work That Resonates, Speaks. “It’s about the transformation of pop culture.”

Child of the 80s.

MTV on the explosive scene.

Exposure. Icons. Beauty.

A new, vibrant, expressive light shined.

Line by line. “What starts as a heartbeat drives my body toward the rhythm of creation.”

Long. Arduous. Decisions, decisions, decisions.

One row. One tack. At a time.

Flow you can hear, brain map to popping canvas.

Andre Woolery’s “Bruised Thumbs” exhibition opens at New York’s Frontrunner Gallery on February 23 and runs through March 1. The official press release is available here. Join the event on Facebook or register with Eventbrite.

“I thought the explosion of data needed an architecture, needed a series of systems, needed systematic design, a series of performance criteria to measure it.”

So, this is not entirely new.

In fact, cartographers have been mapping data for a long time, possibly 8,000 years. We could even say that any image, any written word, any sound, and so on, is a representation of data.

But let’s focus.

When I say “The New Journalism”, I’m talking, in part, about what you and I are now doing. For example, 11% of Americans report owning some form of tablet device. 77% of tablet owners use them daily, and 53% get news on a tablet every day, according to the non-partisan Pew Research Center’s Project for Excellence in Journalism.

But hey, why read that paragraph when you can understand faster with an infographic?

Wurman’s proposed response to “the [1976] explosion of data” – in the context of the 2012 frequency and volume of web/cloud publishing – stresses existing factors:

Volume requires accuracy and trust. Otherwise we can’t tell claims from facts.

Frequency requires reader-centered design. Otherwise it takes too much time to understand as much as we want to understand.

Those who can publish accurate information using reader-centered design can rely less on getting news coverage; to an increasing extent, we can become a direct source of trusted news.

Direct journalism, merging unbiased research with data visualization as narrative, is a plausible outcome of current trends. Granted, trust will require filters – ideally self-imposed.

Those who worry that the web threatens journalism may find that the web simply requires adaptation.

And yes, there are things only words can express.

For further reading:

The Visual Display of Quantitative Information, by Edward Tufte

Many of the books Richard Saul Wurman has written

My dog “Little Man” is adorable. He’s also famous. But mostly, he’s famous because he’s adorable.

In October of 2011, the occupation of Zuccotti Park was in full swing. It was a surreal time to be living in New York City. The people behind Occupy Wall Street had succeeded in changing the entire cultural discourse with a blog post and a few tweets. The eyes of the world were drawn to a single, privately owned public space in lower Manhattan.

As a resident of New York City, it was fascinating to watch.

“Hombrecito: Revolutionary Extraordinaire” started out as an idea for Little Man’s Halloween costume. While searching an art store for miniature picket sign materials, I started imagining all the great pictures I’d have to share at the end of the month. And then it dawned on me:

What if I got a picture of Little Man dressed up as a protester in Zuccotti Park and tried to make it go viral?

That seemed like more fun than simply dressing him on the holiday. Besides, by the time October 31st rolled around, everyone and their mother’s terrier would have had the same costume idea.

I proposed the idea to David Shankbone, who was already planning to photograph in the park that day. He laughed out loud when I told him about the Chihuahua protester concept, so I knew the idea was a good one.

My first thought upon arriving at Zuccotti that afternoon was, “Wow, there’s twice as many tourists as protesters!”

My second thought was, “Is that John Oliver?” (It was.)

Near the Park’s “kitchen” I found elevated plastic containers that seemed high enough that I wouldn’t have to worry about Little Man getting stepped on or otherwise disrupted by protesters, who were lining up for free guacamole sandwiches and pizza.

There was a lot of pizza.

Within moments of fastening his little bandana and sign, the shoot began. I had to fight to keep his focus on the camera amidst the protest/pizza party surrounding us. How do you hold a Chihuahua’s attention when it’s raining pepperoni and sausage?

Simple:

A Cheez-It.

Our entire shoot lasted 30 or 40 seconds. When we stopped, I realized that every camera within a 10-foot radius was trained on him. Hombrecito had ostensibly gone “viral” within the park in just under a minute. That’s when I realized that, with the right execution, he was sure to spread like wildfire online.

I floated the photo on Buzzfeed, linked to it on social media sites, pursued strategic blogger outreach, and let Little Man’s cuteness take care of the rest.

Hombrecito got an instant reaction.

Due to the universally positive responses, Buzzfeed put him on their main feed and tweeted my post from the official Buzzfeed Twitter account. Prolific Buzzfeed-er Matt Stopera took the idea and ran with it. A Tumblr called Awwccupy Wall Street sprang up, clearly influenced by Buzzfeed/Stopera. Pictures of animals at #OWS protests took on a life of their own and became a mini meme.

And it all started with Hombrecito.

I was even more excited about the impressions the photo started accumulating in the press. If Little Man is anything, he’s a homebody. We live in one of the most colorful and vibrant cities in the world. But he’d be happy staying inside cuddled up on his heating pad and never walking any further than the corner of our block.

It tickled me that he could be seen on Forbes.com, The Huffington Post, Gawker, Andrew Sullivan, and numerous smaller blogs. It was like I’d given my little homebody an all-expenses-paid trip around the world.

As far as I was concerned, he was an Internet superstar.

In retrospect, Hombrecito has a lot in common with the movement whose media coverage inspired him in the first place. As the Occupiers showed the world, social media is leveling the field. Executed properly, a big splash can be made with something as simple as a photo or an idea.

Of course, it doesn’t hurt to have the best little guy in the world as your headliner.

The Backstory

I was with a group of my college buddies visiting from out of town, many of whom had never been to or even possessed any working knowledge of Miami outside of a particular Will Smith song. As we walked around Miami’s Financial District – where I call home – my friend, an engineer, questioned rather eloquently:

“What do those white and black squares everywhere actually do?”

I refrained from answering, knowing full well what was in store just around the block.

As we turned the corner into a large open lot crawling with food trucks – a staple in Miami’s burgeoning street food scene – each truck had those “white and black squares” (read: a QR Code) attached in some fashion.

I began explaining these little boxes and the content that should be uploaded to them in hopes of justifying their excessive presence throughout our urban landscape, overly extolling the exploration that lay waiting within each square. Without further delay – and subsequent cooling of our food truck tacos – I took a quick scan with my trusty QR reader app.

I was ready to blow my friend’s mind; I literally held the future in my hands.

Then something unexpected happened…

A desktop website. Facebook pages. Twitter profiles. I was left holding a bag of mediocre execution that seemed to bury the technology in the eyes of my already skeptical friend.

Not one code offered a reason why my buddy would ever be interested in scanning one of these digital graveyards. Seeming more Escher than Einstein to my mathematically gifted pal, I thought to myself, “How on earth could I right this wrong?”

The Challenge

Upset, confused, and still slightly hungry, I decided to set out on a quest to challenge myself. I would scan every single QR Code I passed in my neighborhood, the neighborhood where I worked, and any extras I found along the way for an entire day.

I knew this would actually be quite a frenzy.

Bus stops were to be passed, condos needed to be shilled, coasters needed to be relieved of their twelve ounce paperweights. This was not an effort to boost QR Code’s monthly usage, but rather an experiment of content, time, and most importantly, of pride.

The Experiment

I start each day with a quick walk to a local pastry spot, followed by a quick run to Starbucks before heading to the office. After work, I head to a pub, oyster bar or whichever establishment has the lights on.

The following is a true story. Names have been removed to protect the innocent.

Code One: “Chamomile”

As I passed multiple bus stops en route, the first QR Code appears in the wild. I felt like I was playing the Nintendo 64 game “Pokemon Snap”.

This code’s ad copy – cut out of the silhouette of a running business man’s briefcase – promised a “relaxing, lifestyle experience”.

I paused to scan.

The irony of the situation apparent, this ad’s target demographic would have already sped past the sign without a second to scan, hustling to make their next meeting.

Alternatively, perhaps there was an all-briefcase relay race they would be participating in.

I received a website that prompted me to enter another website. So far, so “eh” – but I’m the sporting type. I enter the site and am greeted by a wall of text. Stress relief, proven tactics, and a discount if I mention scanning the QR Code.

At this point you must be asking yourself, “What the hell is the service?”

I could not tell you.

After a paragraph of new age buzzwords – and the liberal use of the word “chamomile” – it was all too much.

I stopped.

Wait, I take that back.

I ran.

Perhaps that’s what it was trying to tell me all along.

Code Two: Flaky Frustration

It is now pastry time; flaky and delicious. Much deserved after my altercation with the previous code. As I frequent this establishment, I was familiar with the menu and its predominantly displayed quick response code. Having never scanned it before, now was the time.

For science.

I grabbed the menu, took my phone out, opened the app. Customers in line behind me looked on quizzically – or with annoyance – as I scanned the code on the menu.

Boom.

The impossible happens.

It takes me to a digital version of the menu. How could this be?

While I attempted to convince myself that this was done to avoid folks opening up their flashlight app in a low lighting condition – blinding another customer from across the bistro in the process – it hit me.

This place closes at 2PM.

This code simply brings up the menu on your phone accessed via the menu. Xzibit meme joke aside, the lesson learned is clear:

QR Codes are not a spectacular vehicle for demonstrating the concept of a Mobius Strip.

Code Three: Caffeine, I mean, Starbucks

I waited in line for my red eye and pocketed my phone – if only for a brief moment – as another code reaches my retina. Surely this would be much better than those previous efforts.

The scannable was attached to a bracelet fundraising effort to create jobs for the USA.

I was intrigued.

Where would this code take me, and what stories would it share?

I was not disappointed as a website optimized for mobile – finally!!! – opened up with options to view a digital short on the project, experience the success stories of the campaign, read the stories and ideas of the community, and even contribute my own.

Not too shabby at all.

I’d found three codes just to find a truly engaging one.

I had almost lost hope, as this experiment closely resembled a digital version of Mystery Science Theater 3000.

On to Work

We have a custom QR Code on our door, but I won’t get in to that as we designed and created the content behind it. Moving on.

Code Four: Lunch

Or: How My Italian Grandmother Will Never Forgive Me

A fantastic part of the day, as I’m finally able rest my eyes from staring at a 15 inch screen all day. Lunch affords me the opportunity to slow down (read: catch up) by staring at a four inch screen. I dined at an Italian restaurant known for its exotic pasta dishes and home design-heavy elements.

I skimmed through the bilingual menu, knowing full well that I would be ordering my usual rigatoni al dente.

Sadly, this would not be a wet lunch, as my previous attempt at replicating Mr. Draper ended my dreams of ever fully accepting neat whiskey into my life. However, I was not out of the ad game entirely, as there was an addition to this particular menu:

A shiny new QR Code.

Intrigued, I wondered what immersive experience could be behind such a delicious code. I scanned and was instantly greeted by a video of the chef preparing the latest special.

Bravo.

A digital piece that offered an informed dining decision.

I could see the ingredients – an important note, considering there were many that I could not pronounce (sorry grandma) – the preparation, and ultimately, the completed dish.

This deep in my quest, I was relieved by actually being offered some value. Granted, it would have to be changed frequently, considering content has about the same shelf life as an eatery’s ingredients.

I hate myself for that observation.

Intermission

I felt the need to take a breather.

I had scanned codes on various mediums in a multitude of places, discovering the good, the bad and the absolutely ghastly. But with these results, would my extensive scanning efforts retroactively convince my pal that QR Codes are actually worth the trouble?

Code Five: Dinner, Drinks and Disappointment

And: I swear this is still about QR Codes

I chose the pub after work, a goliath of an establishment complete with Irish fare right down to the island’s quaint, traditional soundtrack. You know, Flogging Molly.

Regardless, I order a dish that could be considered the potato version of Inception and what can only be described as a slice of the heartiest ale available.

Pint poured, I reach for a coaster emblazoned with information regarding a domestic beer’s mobile application. I place my beverage next to the absorbent advertisement to investigate.

The app, in a nutshell, helps inebriated fellows get a cab home.

Great job, beer producer I won’t name!

Although one thing was missing:

A QR Code.

This seems like an especially worthwhile spot for our quick response friend.

Take me directly to the app store so I can download your app so I can just get me home.

To make a long post even longer, how about a quick blurb about what we’ve learned:

1. Have some “strategery”

QR Codes are not just there to be thrown about next to the now obligatory Facebook “f” icon. Make sure it furthers your brand’s narrative in a way people actually care to follow.

2. Speak the language of content

Are you producing something that could actually live on its own? If the answer is no, do not pass go, do not collect $200.

3. Go all in or just stay at home

Create a series. Offer consumers the ability to change the next part of the digital adventure through their interaction. Build a community of storytellers that will keep returning to updated content.

4. Build a bridge

If that certain opportunity arises where a QR Code may act as a bridge, by all means run across it. The opportunity for the obvious eludes even brands with the most eyes upon them.

5. Layer the experience

When utilized effectively and appropriately with an eye toward the overall strategy of a campaign, QR Codes are actually a great way to add additional layers to your project.

Tasty layers.

Like beef topped with cilantro, jalapeño and onion.

Tacos, anyone?

Dating is hard; being lonely is harder.

Replace a few objects in the above statement and the values are still as true.

Coding is hard; being unemployed is harder.

So we do what’s hard.

Every client presents difficulties, just as being single does.

You want to get down to business – you like getting down to business, and business, in this case, can be a lot of fun. It’s a shame, but the average person doesn’t have the skills to achieve the desired results on their own.

Instead, we need to meet others, find the right fit, and build a dialog based on trust and mutual understanding.

Sounds easy, right?

The trouble is that the average first date is filled with uncertainty.

If you ask direct questions, they will often have exactly the wrong effect.

If I buy you the lobster…will I be rewarded with results as envisioned.

That, my friends, is uncertainty at work.

Somewhere in that ellipse – between the lobster and the results of said lobster – is a lot of grunting, frustration, and long hours. Every moment of which is filled with uncertainty.

If someone ensures you that the lobster guarantees results, you’re not dealing with a professional but rather, a “professional” – and professionals don’t have your best interests in mind.

Yet somehow, today, a lot clients have been trained to treat the average development team like Pretty Woman Julia Roberts rather than Sweet Home Alabama Reese Witherspoon. They feel it’s a simple exchange of cash for services, not a mad-capped adventure to captivate and charm.

I think the colloquial term for feature-based billing is “turning tricks” – or as Julia Roberts put it, “kissing costs extra”.

(Not to give away any spoilers, but in the end Julia Roberts turns out to be all kinds of charming regardless.)

This, my friends, is uncertainly at work.

The web, like relationships, can move fast.

Sometimes what works one day can become an impossible task the next.

Even small changes can make a big impact on quality of life.

People argue.

If you’re in it for the results as you envisioned during that first meeting, you’re missing the point.

Relationships and web development that lasts needs change, needs arguments, needs to overcome challenges.

Technological uncertainty and romantic uncertainty strangely share the exact same solution.

It’s called relationship building.

It’s based less on whizzbang features and it’s easy to implement:

• Start a dialog.
• Buy the lobster.
• Then listen, ask questions, and adapt.

If you do, we can mitigate uncertainty and your developers and dates will work long hours to rock your world. Once we’re done and happy with the results, we’ll even let you tweet about it and show pictures to your friends.

After all, if your creative team and social life are worth a retainer-based commitment, why wouldn’t you commit to your code the same way?

Ryan Thomas is a Partner at Playground Inc.

He thinks that if you like the digital future, you should put a ring on it.

Clothing is required. Cocktail dress is recommended. Steampunk flair is preferred.

That was the fine print on an invitation to an event I attended recently in Kansas City.

The event is called Party Arty, and it is held at Kansas City’s own Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art. Young Friends of Art, a group of young professionals, holds the event each year to help support the museum. While I could go on and on about the importance of supporting the arts, this is really more about the party.

This year’s theme:

All the World’s a Fair

Because later in the year, the museum is presenting a special exhibit called Inventing the Modern World: Decorative Arts at the World’s Fairs, 1851–1939.

In contrast to these days, when ideas and innovations flow freely among people of all nations, it will be a harking back to the days when countries sent their most inventive and finest thinkers to showcase design ideas and scientific accomplishments of their time.

I’d heard quite a few positive reviews of the previous events, yet never saw it as quite my thing.

I’m not much of a “society” girl. I do sincerely believe in supporting causes that are important, but dressing up and going to a party to do so wasn’t something with which I was sure I’d be comfortable. This year, I got family and friends to come with me, and after reading the attire recommendations in late December, we commenced the task of determining what, exactly, we would wear to this party.

Clothing was a given, cocktail attire seemed too easy, yet steampunk provided quite the quandary.

Multiple Wikipedia and Pinterest searches later, we finally had a handle on what steampunk attire entailed.

Taking a few hints from the exhibit that the party would be alluding to, steampunk attire aligns with the attire of the late 1800s and early 1900s. The dresses look quite Victorian; most of the men sport vests and top hats. However, there is a science fiction, industrialism aspect to the clothing that makes funky gear watches, buckles on boots and feathers and fishnet reasonably acceptable.

I began hunting through my closet to find out what attire I already had that could reasonably pass for steampunk. I decided I wasn’t going to go buy all-new clothing, but on a post-Christmas shopping trip found a shirt with a high, ruffly collar that seemed extremely Victorian to me. Out of my mom’s closet came a long, floor-length skirt, and after accosting a colleague at work about her knee-high, lace-up boots, I was set. A wide, studded belt completed the ensemble.

One friend decided to rent a Victorian wear costume, while another collected Amelia Earhart-look-alike garments. My brother’s three piece suit paired perfectly with a banded-collar linen shirt from the 60s, my mom pulled pieces from her closet to comprise her outfit, and we were ready.

Now the question became:

Were we going to look “funny” or “fun”?

Were people going to scoff at our mismatched choices or appreciate the effort?

As we were getting ready, after seeing everyone in full costume, the attire recommendations were reviewed and a little flutter resonated through the group, wondering if steampunk “flair” really meant full costume. As we pulled up to the museum and watched the people in the car in front of us get out in cocktail dresses and suits, we all momentarily looked at one another and I, in an insecure moment, wondered aloud whether anyone else would be as into the theme as we were.

Entering the party we encountered the hostesses – who were in little black dresses. The feeling I had before entering the big room can only be described as trepidation. I’m not a highly self-conscious person, but my heart was definitely beating a little harder, wondering how everyone else would be dressed.

Finally, we entered together – and we definitely got some looks.

The majority of the room was in normal cocktail party attire, but as we snaked our way to the bar, I spotted a girl in a red corset, and a guy with a top hat wandering by the ice-sculpted Eiffel Tower.

I started to feel better about our getups.

As the night wore on, we saw more and more people steampunked out. We even became popular models for photographers documenting the event. We were stopped in hallways, “Amelia” got her fly cap knocked off when someone wanted a picture, and a cocktail-attired girl in front of us in line at the bar revealed that she thought it was “so cool” that we dressed up.

In a hall full of people my age dressed “normally”, I realized that sometimes it’s worth taking chances.

It’s a corny cliché, but it is real.

Cocktail attire would have been easy – and we’d have fit in nicely.

Steampunk attire was fun – and we stood out fantastically.

And it is clear that we love advertising and all of the cool stuff people are passionate about. From the mundane to the flat-out amazing, we dig seeing what advertising folk snap and share.

So we decided to create a little something around it:
A Day In The Life Of Advertising.

Here’s how it works:

• We’ve earmarked each Friday as the “official day” for A Day In The Life Of Advertising.
• Take Instagram pics and include the #ditlad hashy (make sure your Instagram photos are connected to your Twitter account).
• Each Monday, we’ll pick some photos you shared on Twitter to go up on our dedicated Pinterest board. We’ll let people know if their photo is up via Twitter.
• Then, we’ll keep track of likes, repins and comments.
• There will be a point system for this: 1 point for a “like,” 2 points for a repin and 3 points for a comment.
• At the end of each month, whoever has the highest number of points wins a delegate badge to Advertising Week IX.

Why Fridays? Well, you’re probably on the downslope of the week and could use a little creative oxygen. Also, it’s kind of fun to see how people unwind after a week in the trenches at work and in school.

What are we looking for? It’s up to you. Creativity is strongly encouraged, though. Fun is a must. Maybe it’s some Friday Happy Hour cheer. Perhaps some cool art at your agency. Lunch is always good. Coffee? Winner.

But please note, we do not wish to see the following (consider this your disclaimer):

• Anything that would put you or your agency/company/school in a bad light.
• Anything that could be considered proprietary or fall under trade secrets. Please, please, PLEASE do not put anything out there like that.
• Anything untoward or illegal.

A few more nuts and bolts:

• We will just be looking at posts that go up on Fridays. If it goes up any other day, it will not qualify.
• This little bit ‘o fun starts next Friday, February 17th and runs until — well, it will run forever, we hope.
• Students, agencies, brands, media — anyone involved with advertising in some way, shape or form — is eligible to participate.
• By posting, you give us permission to use your photo both in the contest and for Advertising Week Social Club stuff (i.e. features on website, marketing, etc.)
• You can only win a delegate badge once. We want to give other people a chance to get in on the action.

Any questions, hit Zanger up. He’ll help you out.

Have fun.