What’s with the suit, creative director? I didn’t hear about any client meetings today and everyone else in the creative department is decked out in comfy urban duds, so what’s with the Brooks Bothers kit? I even see one of your team’s male copywriters prancing around in a pair of Daisy Dukes over there. He didn’t buy those at Lord &Taylor did he? Doubt it. So what gives? Are those penny loafers supposed to replace the void left by the countless gold lions you’ve never won? What’s that you say? Awards are a fickle representation of creative excellence? Good point. Besides, if those jokers at on the awards jury couldn’t recognize the creative genius of your Newman’s salad dressing direct mailer, what good are they? Hang on. Perhaps that getup is the ultimate statement in convention defiance? You see the rest of us lounging around in jeans, t-shirts and sneakers, and you throw us the perfect creative curve ball—a lemon v-neck sweater with seersucker trousers. Booya! Boy do I feel like a mindless sheep now. You really are the unorthodox trailblazer. That must be why clients adore you so much. All this time, I suspected it was because you never dared challenge their ridiculous creative suggestions like using an animated frog as the “spokesperson” for that chemotherapy drug. I confess, at the time I thought that was the move of a seasoned hack, but I’m starting to see the genius now. You must've been thinking, “Any publicity is good publicity.” You wily rascal you. I doubt the rest of us will ever catch up to your creative genius. Unfortunately your style and body of work will likely only be appreciated after you’re gone, like Van Gogh or James Dean or the guy from ACDC who choked on his own vomit. Till then, know that this writer would be honored to pen your obituary.
