Photos my friends sent me this week

There's some life lessons right there. (via @ellen_tm_ and @kowchow)

The Instagram post

Instagram - the photo sharing app - was one of the overnight successes of 2011. No sooner had users everywhere discovered the joy of snapping, filtering and sharing photographs of their daily lives, than big name brands like Burberry and H&M were signing up. Hell, even President Obama got in the game last week. And yet, despite the uptake, the app has remained small. It still has no online presence, preferring instead to release its API and allow others to make of the content what they will. Indeed, a friend remarked recently how Instamap had revealed loads of new users in his area - presumably as a result of getting an iPhone for Christmas.

Most interesting, perhaps, is how people are using the app amongst their other social platforms. For me, Instagram is to Twitter, what Vimeo is to YouTube; quality not quantity; all about the "ooh lovely!", not so much the LOLs. Twitter is quick-witted, fast-paced and brutal. Instagram is sedate, considered and subtle; real life but in sexy soft focus. 

I purposely only follow a few people on Instagram (63), so my experience is somewhat limited. I'm also unusually protective of my privacy settings - aware of the fact that I'm posting photos of my actual life - not just tweeting from behind the curtain of Twitter. Mills from ustwo allegedly unfollows anyone posting more than two photos without filters, or of their kids, in a row. How's about them guidelines? I get a real kick out seeing the world through the eyes of the people I follow - the things they notice, the moments they capture, and all the little things that really matter to them. 

Yet, despite the very simple purpose of the app, we are still hard wired to share thoughts and communicate in the form of words. As if we haven't got enough platforms requiring us to coherently string sentences together, I see example after example of the written word on Instagram; paragraphs from articles, headlines, and post-it notes. Maybe it's the tangibility of a typeface or handwriting that we're really missing on other platforms and which Instagram reinstates. Trapped in a world of fonts dictated by Apple, Google and Twitter, we are deprived of that extra layer of meaning provided by a serif, or the amusing quirk found in someone's scrawl.   

On a final note @thekingmob posted a photo of a web page yesterday (below). Seeing this, the humble link suddenly looks like a modern day equivalent of the Internet dial-up tone. Why are we clicking meaningless lists of numbers and letters, when a visual has so much power? For now, I can't get my head around this photo at all. But I'm pretty certain it is of great significance. 

A wishlist for 2012

EARNED SUCCESS. BOUNDLESS ENERGY. ENTHUSIASM. EXCITEMENT. MOMENTS. SEA AIR. ALPINE HEIGHTS. DESERT SPACE. UNDISCOVERED CITIES. FLEETING ROUTINES IN NEW PLACES. 

OPPORTUNITY. TRUST. BELIEF. BREAKTHROUGHS. WELCOME SOLITUDE. WARMTH OF FRIENDSHIP. HEAT OF LOVE. COOL AS CATS. RELENTLESS RESTLESSNESS. WORK WITH THE BEST. LEARN FROM THE GREATEST. DIFFERENT PERSPECTIVES. CHALLENGES THAT CHANGE ME. CURIOSITY. RICH NETWORKS. POWERFUL CONNECTIONS. PERFECTIONISM. 

"SCRIBBLED, SECRET NOTE BOOKS IN WILD, TYPE WRITTEN PAGES FOR YOUR OWN JOY."

LOUD MUSIC. FANTASTIC FOOD. ROOM SERVICE. SHORTER SKIRTS. GOOD FEAR. ADRENALIN. CONSTANT FEEDS OF CREATIVITY. HUMAN INNOVATION. CLARITY. TRUTH. TIME TO LISTEN, THINK, CONSIDER. LETTING GO. SWITCHING OFF. RECOVERY.

LOST IN THE WORLD. 

Absolutely Unfabulous

Downton mania aside, one of the most anticipated shows in the festive TV schedule this year was the return of Absolutely Fabulous. As early as November, coverage of the forthcoming episode began to appear, and Jennifer Saunders joined Twitter as @ferrifrump. Fashion, celebrities, gossip and debauchery - not since the 90's have we seemed quite so obsessed with "Who's in, who's out, who's sexy, who's not sexy, who's clever, who's not clever". Clearly its creators, and the nation, felt like a contemporary institution was about to make a much welcomed comeback.

I was 10 when Ab Fab first aired, and - as a full-blown media brat - I instantly recognised the Edina "type" from the kind of people who regularly populated our family kitchen of a weekend, talking of Harvey Nic's, Bolly, and lunches at Bibendum in South Ken. It was that halcyon moment in the mid-90's, when the rich were rich, the supermodels really were super, and the "we live like this" generation properly came into their own. As Edina quips in Season 2, "what you can't tell about a person by what they have chosen you to see on their coffee table isn't worth knicker elastic". My parents and their friends laughed at Ab Fab, the same way my friends and I laugh now about Dalston Superstars; they could hardly bear to admit it, but it was funny because there were elements which were oh so true.

But Ab Fab had something more. It wasn't just a comic reflection or parody; like the very best comedy, it stayed one step ahead of its audience. At the risk of sounding hideously "industry", it was like a trend report in a show. From the clothes, to the brand references, to the interior design, Ab Fab seemed to be the zeitgeist, not just represent it. Even Mary Portas, then Head of Visual Merchandising at Harvey Nichols, understood the PR value in allowing Edina to park her car on the pavement outside the store. Where else on TV at that time, was the image of a modern, aspirational lifestyle available? Coronation Street wasn't exactly heaving with Brabantia bins, Emma Bridgewater porcelain and bottles of Aqualibre, now was it, darling? And let us never forget that Edina was adopting children "one in every colour, one in every room", long before the Jolie-Pitts got going.

So, what made me really sad about the latest episode, was the gaping hole where real cultural insight used to lie. Yes, there were jokes about Twitter and the Kardashians, but those were easy wins, and fairly obvious ones at that. The media industry has evolved from the 90's into an engorged, self-propogating monstrosity, simply heaving with do's and don'ts, ins and outs. How could the Ab Fab writers have failed to leverage the fertile comedy ground today's Edinas are currently stomping around on? You'd think twenty minutes spent swathed in a cape from APC, on a sun lounger at Babington House with an iPad in one hand, and a cup of flat white in the other should at least get them started.

DA3

Last Thursday Matt Judge launched Design Assembly 3 - a printed compendium of archive material from the Design Assembly blog, plus additional new work created especially for the book. Having recently lost his father to cancer, Matt is giving 100% of profits from the sale of the book to three cancer charities globally, so stop reading this for a moment and buy it here NOW.

The launch party was held at Wolff Olins and was well attended by the Shoreditch Twitterati, and the who's who of graphic design. Check shirts, designer facial hair and a considerable amount of heavy drinking characterized an evening which truly celebrated all the love, hard work and effort contained within DA3.

I was very touched to be asked to contribute to the compendium and felt in very grown-up company alongside some of the luminaries of branding and design. Having written predominately in short-form online, to tackle 2,000 words for print felt like a bit of a mountain. Nevertheless, it was great to really dig deep into a subject knowing that it needed more permanence than a fleeting blog post. As a result, I ended up giving my inner geek an early Christmas present by really going to town on the power of data. A few of my colleagues from Moving Brands have also contributed to the book - Nick Jones, Jon Hewitt, Mat Heinl, and ex-colleagues Hector Pottie and Lisa Smith are also in there.

Tonight there's a slightly more low key event to promote the book - the Graphic Design Xmas Quiz. I don't own a check shirt, but I'm seriously hoping that three years in the design industry will have imbued me with  more than a simple appreciation for some quality kerning.

 Again… BUY THE BOOK! HERE.

VHS: Off the shelf

When I was a kid, a friend of mine used to make me MTV mix tapes on VHS, because she felt bad that my family didn't have satellite TV. Anyway... enough of my deprived childhood. To capture the response to this tweet...

Thanks to Daniel Hutchinson (@danielhutch) for the links!

Swagger jumper

Well, given that we’re now just hours away from being legally able to listen to Mariah’s “All I want for Christmas” on repeat for 25 days solid, I feel it is only appropriate to do a little round up of Christmas jumpers for 2011. To many, the Christmas jumper, is just a polyester novelty item suitable only for a cheap laugh and to retain one’s Christmas turkey meat sweats like some ill-conceived human boil in the bag experiment gone fatally arwy.

 To others, like me, however, the Christmas jumper is an investment piece, a visual signifier that the festive season has begun, and an indication that we are soon to be playing Nat King Cole records, digging in to Fortnum & Mason’s hampers, and letting no wine go un-mulled. The Christmas jumper, Hanukkah sweater, Festive gilet, Crimbo knit... call it what you will is a key piece for December, and it seems the fash pack think similarly.

The reigning visionary auteur of the CJ is Ralph Lauren. Each year, their deep-pile chunky knit offering grows more complex. For 2011, Ralph steps into the realm of the Gothic, with a cheeky nod to Damien Hirst and Donnie Darko. Sultry and controversial. Love it.

Next up, a newcomer to the scene, Marcus Lupfer presents us with a kitsch stitch that wouldn’t look out of place on YouTube. Puppies, kittens and sequins, oh my!

Now, two CJ’s for the Mad Aunt in us all. Ideal attire for the annual sherry-fuelled family argument and a great kick-start to the Boxing Day migraine. Sonia Rykiel and Proenza Schouler.

And finally, if you insist on being the only hipster in the village, arriving home laden with Whole Foods bags, and little lovely things from Aesop, then this CJ will serve you well. Inspired by Nordic sea heroes, woven in Japan and native to Hoxton, it’s the clothing equivalent of a flat white.

Please send other super Christmas Jumper spots to me @CamillaStore. These aren’t just jumpers. These are Christmas jumpers.

Young Money

Last night I spent a few hours propping up the bar at the BFI, soaking up the scene that is the onedotzero audio visual festival. I'm lucky enough to work alongside many uber-talented motion graphics people, some of whom were featured in the festival, such as Simon Jones' collaborative film project, Resonance, and "rising star" Sam Blain's In Dreams.

I also got chatting to a recent graduate Hannah Blackmore, who made this beautiful film which poignantly captures the silent extinguishing of traditional retail going unnoticed in middle-England.

The weird turn pro

With all the buzz surrounding the release of The Rum Diary film, I've been imploring my friends to read the book before giving in to the visual delights of Johnny Depp. The novel, written when Hunter S. Thompson was still just a kid, is one of my greatest literary indulgences - a vivid depiction of anarchic escapism that I return to year after year.

I first read Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas when I was 16, sparking a near-feverish devouring of every bit of "Gonzo" and New Journalism I could get my hands on. The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test, The Armies of the Night, In Cold Blood, Hell's Angels, the articles of Tom Wolfe… after years spent wading through the tomes associated with English Literature GCSE, the realisation that writing could be this electric blew my teenage mind. But I didn't just want to write like Thompson, I wanted to think like him - to experience life through rolling eyes and be able to nail it still bleeding to the page.

I recently read Fear and Loathing in America - the collected letters of Thompson. From his long correspondences with friends, to stern notes to American Express, his gonzo style teeters constantly between powerfully charming and indiscriminately threatening. Across it all and most surprising, perhaps, is his organisation. With all the tales of drug abuse, politico baiting and cop taunting, it's easy to forget that Thompson was a highly successful and diligent journalist. Quite a lesson to writers who simply want to talk the talk; walking the walk, no matter how stumbling or crazed, takes a business-like dedication.

"Because what happens to anybody who gets into any kind of forced/regular writing is that he's bound to make a useless fool of himself now & then… and it's hard to set a price on that kind of reality."

Through all of Thompson's work runs his ability to overcome the most basic of human emotions, and one so raw in anyone attempting any form of creative endeavour - the fear of failure. Even at his most ranting, he possesses a self-belief which seems to transcend ego or arrogance. Incredibly, Thompson never fears or loathes his own opinion.

But while Thompson's journalistic style hugely inspires my own writing, he also stands - cigarette in one hand, gun in the other - on a great pedestal in my mind. In times of great stress or emotional turmoil, Thompson represents the promise of being able to go missing from one's own life, should circumstances dictate. As he wrote in The Rum Diary, "The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, but to those who see it coming and jump aside". There's great comfort to be found in the notion that - for the price of an airline ticket and large bottle of Habana Libre, one can abandon one's grocery shopping in the Whole Foods car park, leave a message at home to let them know you've "gone to take care of matters", and simply "jump aside" somewhere where the rum is cheap and the sea stays warm late into the night. Hey, The Bible may work for some, but I sometimes need something a little stronger.

"PS - I'm definitely in a writing mood these days; the angst has come to a head - let's not blow it this time."

Back to my roots

Just a gentle reminder to readers of Camilla's Store, that you can also find my brand ramblings over on the Moving Brands blog. This past week delivered lots to think and write about, and I found myself posting three blog posts up - a record number not seen since my early days as MB Marketing Manager when clients were just a by-word for left over pastries.

So, if you just can't get enough, do check out my look at how Whale Trail hit 40,000 app store downloads in 4 days, why the power of hashtags may now be greater than the dollar, and what happened when an 11 year old tried to imagine life without the internet.