Sentences on concept

While in New York this past week, I went upstate to visit the Dia:Beacon gallery. Just an hour and a half north of Manhattan - a stunning journey along the Hudson - Dia:Beacon houses major works of art from the 1960s to the present within nearly 300,000-square-foot of naturally lit gallery space.

Of all the artists in the collection - including Louise Bourgeois, Michael Heizer and Gerhard Richter - the one who captivated me the most was Sol LeWitt. I'd not previously heard of him, so to be confronted suddenly with his almost algorithmic approach to art was overwhelming. LeWitt laid down rules for the construction of his pieces, and defined Conceptual Art in the process. Here, it appeared to me, was a strategist's artist.

 In LeWitt's 'Sentences on Conceptual Art' (1969), two from his list of 35 stand out.

10. Ideas can be works of art; they are in a chain of development that may eventually find some form. All ideas need not be made physical. 


32. Banal ideas cannot be rescued by beautiful execution. 

As someone who spends most of my time articulating ideas in preparation for the creative process, LeWitt's words are inspirational. He clearly views the definition of the concept as an intrinsic part of the finished piece - the perfect output only achievable through the realisation of a perfect idea. As a brand strategist, I fully aspire to inform the creative process in that way.

For some reason LeWitt's work reminds me of a collection of Da Vinci's sketches I saw in Paris. Not the universally known 'Vetruvian Man', but just simple drawings of the human form - a leg, a neck, or a hand. Da Vinci's finished paintings are astounding, but his sketches show a working, a refining and a laying down of immovable rules, which can never be compromised. Yet, while Da Vinci needed to understand the biological makeup of the body in order to realistically capture his subjects, LeWitt had no such need. Driven only, it seems, by the intention to create, LeWitt makes the intention a creative act.

Of course, I may be looking at this all wrong. I have an Amazon order on its way, which should enlighten me further. Nevertheless, as an educated onlooker, or otherwise, I am in awe of how LeWitt creates something far more powerful than the sum of its parts, purely by laying those parts bare to the viewer.

Notebook after notebook

"As every writer knows, the talk that fills one’s head—and, eventually, notebook after notebook, or computer screen, where all the wrong words gather and conspire to undo one’s role as writer—must end in humiliation: being published. Being published means your mistakes are no longer your own, you’ve smeared shit on your mirror image, in public." - The New Yorker review of 'All We Know'

Men are from Mars. Women just got back from Waitrose

So, it's International Women's Day today and I've borrowed the idea from my esteemed lady colleague Rosanna to take a moment to joyously celebrate a few fab ladies. And, yes, the boys do a pretty ace job as well, but rarely does their hair look quite as awesome as they do it. #justsayin

The business owners.

Starting out in my career I was lucky enough to work successively for two female business owners. Firstly Chantal Coady at Rococo Chocolates. Altough somewhat reserved and quiet, Chantal not only gave me a first class education in chocolate (the history, the geography, the sensuality), but was also gracious enough to give a gentle shrug at my naive enthusiasm while allowing me to run with my ideas and see them through. Secondly, Mary Portas who was petrifying, but nonetheless proved that you can dress, walk, and talk like a woman but still be putting it down in the boardroom. 

The creative powerhouses.

When I first started at Moving Brands Panja Gobel was one of the few women on the Creative Floor. (Don't worry, there's now loads of us). With a playful approach to technology, bright orange hair, crazy prints, an even crazier way of looking at the world, and - more often than not - a blue-eyed baby clinging to her hip - Panja was not a bad role model to have about the place. She has it all. And in every colour! Meantime, out in San Francisco I met Lisa Smith, a non-stop talking, non-stop laughing Essex girl transposed across the Atlantic. Fresh on the West Coast from New York (she's since returned and joined Wolff Olins), she has that cool big sister vibe with tales of amazing secret bars, weekend trips to Coney Island and oh my god, the most incredible handbags ever. An truly fantastic designer, Lisa showed that you can put your career first and still have a bloody great time.

The young money.

Oh the scary young ones biting at my heels and my ankles! Ellen Turnill Montoya - an energetic fireball of creativity and ideas. Wise way beyond her years, innately kind and quite possibly the most fun person I've ever met. Whether it be as curator of the Tate, or the next fashion visionary, I am in absolutely no doubt that her future will be dazzling in its glory. And the very lovely Mily Williamson who gives great blog and who finally sent over her CV for an internship after months of me stalking her on Twitter. Mily's instinctive approach to strategy is so good that if I didn't like the girl so goddam much, I'd hate her! 

The fondly remembered.

On a final note, I want to shout out my Grandmother "Gran-Gran" who's idea of childcare was a slow stroll round Selfridges. Those early trips in my formative years started a love affair with brands and retail that has never ended. I feel Gran-Gran at my shoulder at the launch of every project and hope she's thinking the girl did good. 

To all the women out there doing good - Happy International Women's Day. 

>Isabelle. Julia. Vicky. Celia. Marian. Rosanna. Georgina. Marija. Rachel. Phoebe. Sheema. Mariette. Marianne. Saeeda. Sheira. Zoe. Katie. Fiona. <

Hockney: The Art of Seeing

I thoroughly, thoroughly recommend that you watch the Hockney documentary which aired on BBC2 this evening. He is so articulate, so self-knowing and so inspired by change of all kinds, that it really was a revelation.

In one part of the programme, Hockney talks about how memory affects how we see the world. That no two people can ever look at the same thing in the same way. And, in that sense, we are all alone. But, while even he laughs slightly at his bleak philosophy, there is something magical about that idea. How boring would this world be if we all looked and saw in the same way?

It feels somewhat trite to say, but Instagram is confirmation of this beautiful aloneness we all experience. The ease and speed of the platform allows us all to share what we each are noticing in the world; the little things which prick our memories and emanate with individual meaning. On a larger, more artistic way, this is precisely the mentality Hockney seems to be both reflecting and encouraging in his RA show. The eighteen screen, moving image landscape allows each viewer to focus on what they are drawn to, not what the artist intends.

Whether it be time shifting the seasons, or providing the passage for technological progress, Hockney's embrace of it is a lesson for us all.

David Hockney: The Art of Seeing
http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b01c7wmr/The_Culture_Show_2011_2012_David_Hockney_The_Art_of_Seeing_A_Culture_Show_Special/

The rise and rise of the social media audience

First they were ignored. Then they were the enemy. Then they were tolerated. Then they were given first look via Twitter. Now they get a formal invitation.

Divorce Decor

What is this about? A new interior design specialism focuses on an emerging breed of client, the divorced man. According to a piece on the New York Times, divorcees are looking to create homes "fit for a family" but that also "appeals to dates". Apparently "a very large television" and the "persistent problem" of exposed wiring are key considerations for today's post-marriage singles. Niche interiors company, Sexy Bachelor Pad claim to bring "a sense of playfulness, humor, & down-to-earth communication to what has the tendency to feel overwhelming and stressful to most men". Loosely translated, the implication is that that black satin sheets are out, 500-thread count waffle bedding is in.

This is white people problem solving at its best. Identify a latent need, and commercialise the hell out of it. Time was that first wives had only to worry that the 'other woman' was a pert blonde who graduated in the same decade as the kids. Now, it's the ex-director of design and brand experience for W Hotels who's the major threat. Susan Manrao works her decorative magic through "vignettes" and "whimsical details" to ensure her gentlemen clients avoid the hermit existence of a man cave, and instead feel confident breaking in the Sabatier knife collection over some porcini mushrooms, while their dates admire the exposed brickwork.

Evidently, frisky divorcees are too preoccupied with the transformative power of an A.P.C linen blend blazer and splashing out on leather iPad covers to bother with such mundane issues as "procuring art" and "reallocating space". Le sigh.

Photos courtesy of The Sartorialist

"Do something first. Then talk about it"

I just watched a Style Forum Special on Tom Ford twice. Having spent the first time crawling around on the floor lusting after Tom “three baths a day” Ford, the second time through I was actually able to focus on what the man was saying. And he’s pretty bloody on it.

 

Tom Ford - the man, the creator, the brand - has always been up there with Perrier on my list of most favourite brands ever. But the purchase of a Tom Ford lipstick cemented his position at the top. I’m becoming far too long in the tooth to get evangelical about branding, and Selfridges in the Sales is enough to murder anyone’s sense of “brand experience”. So I wasn’t holding out much hope when I elbowed my way through to the concession. But there, laid out like gilt-edged weaponry, was the most incredible, brand-led packaging I’ve ever seen. The bustling crowd faded away, the orange-tinted sales assistant disappeared, and the bright shopping lights dimmed to a sexy flicker - I was in Tom Ford world.

In the film, Tom explains where the brand story emanates from. He says, “You have to look inside yourself… You start to develop a vocabulary that is a personality. And the brand then takes on a personality based on your personality”. And man, is it one dashing personality - sultry, meticulous, and unarguably gorgeous. It’s a brand personality so astoundingly charming, so memorable, that it has to power to filter down through the couture collection, through the pret-a-porter collection, through the accessories, through the cosmetics and, finally, through to packaging. Never before have I seen a cardboard lipstick box so loaded with meaning, suggestion and story.

It’s not just rock hard branding that infuses Tom Ford products, stores and packaging with that heady scent of je ne sais quoi, however. Dissecting his working practices, Tom reveals, “The clues for everything that's going to come next are here now. And either you're a sleuth and you're thinking about it cerebrally or you feel it. There are no right or wrong answers - it's intuitive”. This “intuition” was there when he transformed Gucci in the nineties, and YSL in the noughties, and it’s here now too in the thousand-doller suits and in this little lipstick box. Knife-sharp lines in a world of soft curves, real attitude in a sea of subtlety.

 

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.

Siri says...

This past week, I spent quite a bit of time writing one of my longest articles yet on the future of technology (2,000 words biatches! But, more on that soon). In it, I talked about how exciting change is, and what a positive force it can be. On Wednesday, at a trend briefing by LS:N Global, I sat there shaking my head as they used the word "scary" over and over in the context of social networks and our digital lives online. In fearing the pace of change, we are no different to the Victorians opposed to the speed of steam engines. Technology and the progression of mankind are intertwined - each driving the other forward.

That said, however, the new ad from Apple (released on Friday) showcasing the Siri feature sent a chill down my spine. Compared to the warm, sentimental, intimate even, nature of the FaceTime ad of June 2010, this spot left me cold. And I had to ask, are we really getting to the point where we no longer talk to people on the phone, we just talk to the phone?

 

To be fair, I'm not condemning the technology. Intuitive, voice activated interfaces make perfect sense and I can imagine a number of situations in which Siri would be incredibly useful. It is Apple's depiction of user behaviour - the highlighted "consumer benefit" for which they are known to lead with - which I object to. Unlike the iMac, or iPod or iPad, Siri isn't positioned as being about freedom, fun, beauty or utility. What the ad, and copy like "Siri understands what you say, knows what you mean, and even talks back", suggests is that we are all ultimately alone in the world, attempting to communicate with computers.

 

I may argue that the evolution of human behaviour in line with technology is progress, but Apple's idea that a phone can replace some of the few people in your life who are there for you when you've locked yourself out, or need to get to a hospital, who listen to you and understand you, and who know how to help you with all the little things like packing for a trip and tying a bow tie... now that really is scary.

After Wes Anderson

Massive new Internet crush on Alex Cornell. Today, his painfully funny app pastiche, jotly, blew up across Twitter. But, having scouted around on his website a little bit, the video I'm particularly loving is this one. Acutely observed and charming.

Letter from Havana: The land that brands forgot

Ernest Hemingway, who made Havana his home for thirty years, once wrote that "you can't get away from yourself by moving from one place to another". I've spent enough time in enough places to know that this is largely true, but maybe it's not about getting away from yourself, maybe it's about getting away from who you feel you ought to be, who you're expected to be at 'home'.

As I write, I am in Havana - amidst the crumbling buildings, under the scorching Caribbean sun, and in the sunset of a Socialist regime. I came to Cuba expecting little more than some beautiful weather and a bit of a rest, but what I'm finding is a city reverberating with a style and strength so powerful, it's almost impossible to believe it operates under such political and economic restraints. Foremost, what Havana proves is that Western capitalist culture can be as much of a burden and limitation to society as any government regime. With no private enterprise and, therefore, no advertising, branding or publicity, Havana feels like a time capsule in the process of bursting free from its casing.

Yes, they may be driving cars from the 1950's, but they know how to fix a car and make it last. No, they may not have iPhones and Blackberries, but everywhere you look couples are flirting and canoodling - getting to know each other the old fashioned way. And no, the kids don't have Xbox or Wii, but they are bright-eyed and full of energy, making up games in the park without a constant parental fear of pedophiles and predators.

Most noticeable for me is the lack of brands. I'm both programmed and trained to read my surroundings based on the cultural signalling of brands. I, like most Westerners, rely on brands to confirm or contest my assumptions about people, places and things. Here, without my trusted way-finding system, I feel lost, vulnerable and uncertain. I have been stripped of the self created for me by the brands I interactive with in my daily life. It has been an enlightening challenge to make choices based on the things that really matter, not just on logos, typefaces and colour.

In our modern, capitalist world, we too readily trust brands to make our decisions for us. 'There's a Wholefoods on this street? Oh, I must be in a good neighbourhood'. 'That guy's pushing a Bugaboo? Well, soy my latte, I'm sold!' This afternoon I sat for lunch in a leafy square, where families cooed over their little ones, dogs chased each other barking, and a Cuban reggae band jammed together on a nearby bench. A small part of me initially felt nervous - without a landscape of corporate badging, how was I to know if the food was well-prepared, or if I was to be taken advantage of as a tourist. But I quickly realised that, here instincts and wisdom are what counts - when choosing a restaurant the smell from the kitchen, the demeanour of the staff and the mood of the patrons are all you have to go on. You have not only to trust them, but to trust yourself as well.

Moving from one place to another isn't about losing yourself, or finding yourself, or whatever it says in The Rough Guide. It's about accepting that, if the reflection of ourselves provided by brands and media is taken away, we remain. And if the Cuban people I've seen are anything to go by, we live on more vibrant than ever.