Five European cities –Antwerp, Amsterdam, Zurich, Vienna, and Valencia– banded together for tourism promotion. They label themselves the cool capitals and have an informative web presence. I like the tone: these places aren’t London, Paris, or Rome; but they are capitals (of a sort), and they are cool.
What really delighted me was a fake advertisement that the collective has put out. A cross between a BBC report and a gossip show, the report showcases Francine Fleiss, who has accumulated five husbands –one in each of the five cool capitals– and is now enmeshed in scandal.
Each of the five husbands seems to have been styled on his city of origin, playing on stereotypes: the Austrian husband is into art and strudel; and the Spanish husband is a rotund, excitable fellow pictured on the beach. Characters from cities whose charms may not be evident seem to have been made more colorful: the husband from Antwerp is into fashion; and the husband from staid Zurich sits next to a bearskin rug, waxing poetic on an “exploratory” relationship.
The report is styled as having been created by the supporters of Francine, and features a “Go Francine!” logo. It’s also attributed to Pals of Polygamy LLC. It’s all good fun, and –more than just using the “cool capitals” label– really does put these five cities on your mental map.
While preparing some remarks on economic diversity in Europe, I came across some comparative figures from the EU:
Looking at per-capita earnings, Luxembourg (the richest EU member state) is seven times wealthier than Romania (the poorest EU member state).
Looking at average GNP per capita for the whole European Union, Inner London (the richest EU region) scores 290% this average, while North-East Romania (the poorest region) reaches only 23% of the same average.
According to the EU, a 7x wealth disparity is also found in India or China. By comparison, the regional gap in the USA is 2.5, and in Japon 2x (meaning that the wealthiest region is twice as rich as the poorest).
Of course, these aggregates paint a picture that's imperfect at best. But the 7:1 ratio grabs your attention and highlights the weighty burdens now placed on EU regional policies.
I first discovered Edward Tufte’s The Visual Display of Quantitative Information more than a decade ago, and I’ve been a big fan of his work ever since. I work mostly with words, but in daily life try to keep an eye open to good design.
I came across a graphic design example at my neighborhood post office, in Paris. It’s a sign posted outside, next to the entry door. It’s in French but, I think, easily understood by those who don’t speak French.
The sign marries two kinds of information:
First, the sign tells you when the post office is open: Monday through Friday from 8:00 to 19:00 (7:00 pm), and Saturday from 8:00 to Noon. I like how boldface type has been used for opening, closing, and Noon, with the line demarcating morning and afternoon (and, incidentally, informing the viewer that the afternoon is comparatively longer than the morning).
Second, the sign tells you when the post office is crowded, and when it’s not. The sign does this with color, using the familiar colors of a traffic light: red, orange (in France, a “yellow light” is actually orange), and green. In short, going to the post office at the end of the day is a bad idea, because the post office is busiest. The best time to go to the post office is at the middle of the morning or the afternoon. Incidentally, Thursday seems to be the quietest day at the post office.
I also like the overall tone of the sign. Its title suggests that customers can choose when they come to the post office, and offers information to help them make that choice. (Looking at the sign, my impression is that customers can change their behavior more easily than the post office can modify its staffing.) Long lines are avoidable, not a fact of life; the glass is half full, not half empty.
Naysayers might voice accessibility issues for the colorblind or the use of the yellow background (yellow is the color of the post office in France, particularly for letterboxes, like red in the UK or blue in the USA). I’d be interested to learn whether or how these issues were considered at the French post office, but for me the drawbacks are outweighed by the clarity of the traffic light color scheme.
The sign takes the form of a metal plaque. It was built to last. But I can’t help but wonder whether postal customers will modify their behavior based on the sign’s information. If they do, will the post office measure changes and revise the sign? I hope so.
In France, 11 November is a public holiday that commemorates the end of the first world war.
French people don’t wear poppies on their lapel. They don’t observe Armistice Day as they do other holidays, such as All Saints’ Day (Toussaint).
France is dotted by memorials to the war dead. Nearly every town in France has one, usually in a central square. Even in the smallest town, a surprisingly long list of names –often five or six from the same family– is inscribed on the monument.
Monuments often are austere, with simple design and a list of names. (The monuments aren’t tombs, but one sobering aspect is that the remains of those listed, in many cases, never were recovered.) Some feature allegorical sculpture that, for me, does not strike a martial note; the tone set instead is loss or sacrifice.
This post features one such monument by François Cogne, La leçon d’histoire (The History Lesson, 1921). It’s inside the courtyard of the Lycée Carnot in Paris. The photo is by Alain Chambord (2008).
J’ai déjà eu l’occasion de commrnter l’enthousiasme qu’a suscité en France la candidature, à présent l’élection de Barack Obama, nouveau président des Etats-Unis.
Mais j’avais sous-estimé les diverses formes sous lesquelles cet enthousiasme pouvait s’exprimer.
Je me promenais dans mon quartier samedi matin, quand j’ai vu dans une vitrine un pull-over pour très jeune enfant, arborant l’image d’Obama.
“Ca alors,” me suis-je dit, “même les bébés français peuvent s’afficher supporters d’Obama !” J’ai décidé de prendre une photo du pull.
En regardant la vitrine de plus près, j’ai eu une épiphanie : il ne s’agissait point d’un pull-over pour bébé, mais d’un vêtement pour chien !
Bouche bée, j’ai pris une photo de la vitrine de la boutique, “un chien dans le marais”, où l’on voit tant le pull Obama que d’autres accessoires pour chien urbain.
Today is eleven eleven. 11/11. Armistice Day.
J’ai déjà eu l’occasion de commrnter l’