3 Generations of Media

When I decided to study “mass communication,” profs at UT’s Moody College were speculating about the mind-boggling array of new cable channels and the concept of “narrow-casting” in contrast to traditional broadcasting. Tastes were becoming divided and specialized for niche demographics so valuable to advertisers. Internet was still to come. Email was for the workplace…

Why I Love Specs

A new generation of visual artist has arisen alongside user-friendly, consumer desktop publishing. Apps now let you make a nice document without a thought to even basic concerns like margin width or type size. Great for writing the letters we used to type on a typewriter, with the ability to add things like color, an…

Meaning of Style

I was confronted with style trouble in high school on the day my punk friends discovered my record collection. Why I had punk friends, I’m not sure. I guess I made one and eventually hung out with his friends too. He had a band (The Suburban Punks – no genre confusion) and I prepped to hear them…

Meaning of Style: Relax! Be Practical

This started out as a simple blog about style choices – how we (consciously or not) determine our modes of expression in dress, décor and for me, print design. It has become far more philosophical. Le mieux est l’ennemi du bien. I’m seeing how choosing style relates to my essential mantra from trade school, “Done…

Finesse on a Budget

Small businesses can’t get away with not looking slick anymore. As Swann shared in ForbesAdVoice, maybe we have Apple and Ikea to thank. All customers now expect good design. But who can spend what design firms command for a great, fresh marketing approach and consistent brand? You can try getting by in the hope that…

Not Home Mom

When I returned to an on-site job I didn’t realize how long it had been since I’d worn real shoes every day. My child grew proficient at dressing herself, just in time for me to remember how. We stay-at-home moms in SoCal wear flip-flops for months on end, barely brushing our hair unless it’s our turn…