Ah, advertising. Another self-congratulatory industry. Last night, Jo, Lionel, Sylvia and I attended the Art Directors Club Awards Ceremony at La Coupule, where we got a good dose of the mucky mucks.
I was thrilled to finally get inside this historic restaurant. I had sat across the street at Le Select before (reading The Dud Avocado), craning my neck to peek at the ceiling under which Josephine Baker had danced and Picasso, Hemingway, et al. dined, but I had never had the occasion to go there. Until last night.
The scene cracked me up: advertising hipsters, decked out in the requisite black jackets and funky eyeglasses. But with the slim suits and disheveled hair on display, they were distinctly French advertising hipsters.
Well, I guess that included us.
The ceremony was pretty underwhelming. But maybe that was because I didn’t understand a word of it. Indeed, I didn’t even realize when we were called up to accept our award for the astronauts web site until Jo nudged me.
Aw, so humble, we are.