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Amy Swift Crosby

the story is in the telling

Malls.

February 20, 2018 · By Amy Swift Crosby

By Hors Limites Architecture and interior designers Francesca Errico and Olivier Delannoy.

Daroco Restaurant, Paris.

My brother-in-law recently came clean at a family gathering that despite his otherwise frugal sensibilities, he is no longer willing to settle for random hotels when he travels (which is often). He finally acknowledged how important a role the room and vibe of a place play in his overall mood and ability to feel sane, happy, inspired — or in other words, himself. 

It’s so true. I feel the same way when I travel, but what disturbs me more are the character-free experiences that I regularly encounter in my backyard. Arguably, in some molecular way, they’re part of the fabric of my life — not something I can swipe past on my HotelTonight app.

It got me thinking. How much does environment affect our mental health — even for short exposures? What about productivity? And, how do we overcome places and spaces that depress us…particularly if you’re in the habit (and business) of enhancing experience/making places and things better/more beautiful/thoughtful/engaging?

I was always taught that it’s not where you are but how you are. I still believe this. But sterile, cookie cutter or otherwise drab spaces make this downright challenging. The nondescript is also a reality. Not every coffee shop can be transformational. Not every conference room can inspire big thinking. Not every errand can be done at an architecturally significant indoor/outdoor retail utopia.

In my own life, I find that when I go to a particular mall, indoor sports facility or big box store – all located on an especially sad stretch of commerce about 10 miles from my house – it creates an acute (but thankfully temporary) mental hiccup. From the moment natural light disappears, I start to panic. I don’t know what it is about those fluorescent lights, industrial carpets and endless gray-beige palettes that seize me, but there’s almost a fear of getting trapped, lost, or worse, that it somehow defines me. It ignites an unfortunate interior dialogue that goes something like this:

Is this (really) my life? What have I done with myself? Am I a suburban shopper? Is this my punishment for leaving the city? Who are these people? What does anything mean? Is that mirror accurate? Should I trade my jeans for more forgiving softpants? Should I buy a beanbag chair? (Answer — no).

Why does being held (voluntarily) hostage inside certain walls scream intervention? I’m guessing it has something to do with the environment being an extension of personal values — and circumstances playing into our idea of ourselves and who we most want to be. This is one thought, but a place can impact people in less obvious ways, too.

My daughter shared that a certain friends’ house makes her anxious and sad (it’s dark, cluttered and often chaotic). Her comment was “I don’t feel like they want me there.” 

Isn’t it interesting how the environment has the ability to create and perpetuate a narrative. Sometimes it’s hard to say why the “ick” feeling appears. I always want to think I’m stronger than any “place” — I mean look at Mandela! But if I’m honest, I’ve been happier in a remote village in India sleeping on a prison cot than at a Footlocker in a strip mall. It doesn’t always make sense.

Is there a place that gets to you? Where you don’t recognize yourself? Where your compass points anywhere but here? And is there a way you could turn it around — and take it back in some useful way?

I think design is the antidote to depression, fatigue, sadness and lots of other maladies. But life doesn’t happen inside a Zaha Hadid ecosystem operated by Soho House.

I’m learning to design those spaces inside myself, as a result of living in a bucolic seaside village that occasionally renders me mall-bound. Having a good sense of humor about what other people consider “designed” is also helpful.

I’ll count this operation as a success once I can swap Chipotle for my favorite spot in Paris, above. Thurs far, it’s still just #goals.

Chief.

June 21, 2016 · By Amy Swift Crosby

Chief Product Officer.
Chief Creative Officer.
Chief Executive Officer.
Chief-of-Everything-Officer

As business owners, we are all chief of something (many of us the latter.) But how many of us assume certain issues are just “part of being in business,” or “part of being the boss” or part of “working with people.”?

This short story is about a local Chief of Police who did an unusual thing: he stopped arresting drug addicts and started saving them instead. He changed the story on “it’s just part of being the police.”

As you can see from the news, this country has an opioid addiction issue. Heroin is rampant. Prince just died of a Fentanyl overdose. Where I live, on the north shore of Massachusetts, 4 people in the small town of Gloucester had already overdosed by the second month of last year. This police chief took a deep breath with that news – and decided to take action.

Last winter, he posted a message on Facebook that read:

“Any addict or dealer in Gloucester is invited to bring in needles and drugs, and turn themselves in, without arrest. You will be offered assistance and rehab, no questions asked.” His mission? Immediate and sustainable care for anyone who wanted it. He got 39,000 views from across the state and country.

I assumed before interviewing him that he had pre-organized beds in rehab centers and a volunteer program to assist – but guess what? He had no plan. No connections. No infrastructure. No volunteers. He said, “We had no idea what we were going to do. The solution came from putting out the message.” He took a leap of faith, got others involved in the conversation, and as a result – created a solution that involves volunteer “angels” who have helped build a model being adopted across the country.

A year and a few months later, he counts 120 police departments in 28 states who use his program, 300 treatment centers, 60 million dollars in scholarship funds – and 450 addicts helped through treatment. That’s pretty impressive for a village law enforcement officer. He’s been featured on NPR, in The New York Times, The Boston Globe – he’s a hero (who, by the way, gives most of the credit to his team. Of course.)

It’s easy to feel despondent about problems in our midst. I know I do – and it comes from not knowing how to help or how to change my own habits or how to move boulders up mountains and even how to communicate better. So often it can feel like its people who stand in our way or ruffle our feathers or make life harder, but often it’s a process or belief that has been allowed to proliferate. When teams flail or fail, something systemic happened…no one intentionally brings a ship down, right?

Here’s to arresting the problem, not the person. That’s the kind of Chief I want to be.

Tinkering.

March 15, 2016 · By Amy Swift Crosby

Here's to "productive", or "non-productive" putzing. Because it's all productive.

“I’ll be out in the garage” is a phrase often uttered by my husband on weekends. What exactly happens “in the garage”? Some days he’ll emerge having reorganized all of his bikes, surfboards, SUPS, kayaks, skateboards (shall I go on?), and other days I can’t tell if anything really happened. But I think that’s the point. It doesn’t have to.

And it’s why I believe in tinkering.

The guy gets to be alone, without an agenda, without the kids asking to play monster, or me asking about the status of the (insert chronic historical house problem here.) He gets to do no-thing, while doing some-thing, and think. But he gets to think without being charged with thinking. And he gets to use his hands and figure stuff out – work stuff out – build stuff out – without much attachment to an outcome or life-changing expectations. When else in your life do you tinker – with no strings attached? This is how problems are solved, ideas born. Garages are ideal, but there are other options, too.

I’ve solved client issues while building magazine collages with my girls. I’ve thought of short stories while washing dishes or cleaning out the spice drawer. I’ve dreamed up solutions to friends’ conundrums – personally, in business, in life – while weeding my vegetable garden. 

My grandfather used to spend hours “down at the boat.” I’d see my grandmother roll her eyes at this, as we all knew the boat hadn’t actually worked in decades. But now I get it. And respect it.

Should we consider Intentional Tinkering? Conscious tinkering? LeanInTinkering? Tinkering Forward?

Someone stop me.

Commitments. The Fourth Kind.

January 5, 2016 · By Amy Swift Crosby

Two members of the Polar Bear Club. I live with the crazy guy on the right. See the live action plunge here.

We all make them – but the terms of those commitments vary – and typically fall into three categories…

The short-term ones are day to day. Could be about 40 minutes of cardio, or eating vegan before 5pm, or cycling to work instead of driving, or spending an hour with your child without checking your device. Those are relatively easy, and tend to get easier the more often we do them.

The mid-term ones are saying we’ll be there, and then showing up, or investing in a blog, telling the world, and then posting things, volunteering with people who depend on you. Those are harder – because it’s easy to negotiate out of them – but once in the groove, we tend to stay there.

The long-term ones are the biggies – getting married, having kids, buying real estate, forming partnerships, investing capital, making an effort with relationships – year after year. These ones write the music of our lives because they’re constantly there, reflecting back to us who we are and how we are. In some ways they’re the easiest (you don’t re-decide about them daily) and the hardest (you’re in it…today, tomorrow, the next day…and still….and still!). They reassure us and comfort us, but they’re the ones we take for granted. They anchor us, and provoke us – simultaneously.

But then – there’s the last kind of commitment – the fourth kind. The kind we don’t do enough…
Like deciding that the New Year is best kicked off by jumping into the icy Atlantic, with snow on the ground, and FULLY submerging under water. That one takes commitment AND a little bit of crazy.
It seems to me that we all have one, two and three pretty much covered. But what if we had a monthly wild card, like #4?! Could be in business – or personally – I don’t think it matters. But flexing that muscle seems important as we age and lean toward seeking safety (most of the time.)

Who’s in?!?!?

Happy New Year – looking forward to 2016 with you

Novelty

December 8, 2015 · By Amy Swift Crosby

I’m continuously fascinated by how living in a small town can lead to living a bigger life. Maybe it’s because I commute to LA and NYC often enough to feel connected to diverse worlds, but I still think no matter where you are anymore, the world is as you create it. Sometimes when I describe our relocation from Venice, CA to Manchester by the Sea, MA, I call it “when we calmed down.” I say that because I felt like I was living my life on Lincoln Boulevard or the 405, or conversely existing in non-gmo-organic-cotton-couture t-shirts and custom clogs…  in our costly but casual neighborhood …doing what people who live there do – which is buying expensive coffee and $18.00 pressed juice (still miss it), meandering our kids in $500 dollar strollers and essentially working hard at looking like we weren’t working very hard. But holy shit we were stressed! Our million dollar house was great but surrounded by drug deals and the thump of drive-by stereo base so deep it moved my home-delivered jars of almond-coconut-Mylk. Our friends with kids in school seemed pained by the process. Police lockdowns became a joke but as “funny” as they were, they bred a strange form of deep stress that we weren’t really all that safe.

I’m not really making an argument for small towns versus urban life – I love them both. But a pig roast at a friends house this weekend made me realize how much my own life has invited more novelty. There’s something about switching lives that’s kinda great. I recommend it. It has also been progressive for my professional life – which seems weird because now I have to go to my former cities to see clients – but I think I’m DOING better work, because I feel more inspired. Hmmm.
So here’s to switching it up. In the name of a new view, new circles, new problems even. Unexpected opportunities arise when you make intentional but disruptive decisions.

No Pants.

December 1, 2015 · By Amy Swift Crosby

Screen Shot 2015-11-15 at 9.05.17 PMWhen we’re little, people love to see us running around naked. But that gets more awkward (hopefully!) as we age, and it’s the same for our talents. People are forgiving of the raw, unselfconscious efforts of a teenager singing her first recital, or of a first blog post, or even a first recipe, but as you practice and hone your craft, the critics have more room…and justification…to analyze, judge – as well as delete, ignore, swipe. As you get better (and most people do), the bar gets higher. Expectations (from yourself and others) become built in to whatever you put out there – because if the last time was great, the next time will be greater. You begin to walk in bigger shoes, or in this case, wear big, grown up pants.

Remember when Elizabeth Gilbert wrote Eat, Pray, Love, and then did a Ted Talk about how her next effort couldn’t help but be a disappointment? This is not a comparison to a New York Times best selling author…but sometimes, when I do good work, and there’s applause (even from one), I say to myself, “How nice. But can I pull it off again?” There’s some kernel of doubt that lives in me and wonders if that was the last time, a fluke, a one-off. I’ve never been right about this, but the more I talk to other people about this fraud/fail/anomaly syndrome, the more I see that I’m not alone. I guess it’s just so fun to knock it out of the park that it becomes addictive – and we all want that impact every time. If there were a secret to killing it, always, I think we’d all buy it.

But it’s almost impossible for every project, book, product, video, post or presentation to  be a best seller. Seth Godin writes ten to twenty blogs for every one he publishes. But knowing this,  the thing we can start to understand is what does work, and why does it work, and did it do something for someone somewhere that was useful…without the pressure of epic performance. Ingredients for greatness reveal themselves when you aren’t panicked about…being great.

So calm the eff down. Eyes on the road. Do your work. Measure results. Scrap what’s mediocre. Keep the good stuff. Press play.

Then do it all again.

That’s pretty much the big secret.

 

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About Me

photo of Amy Swift Crosby

I’m a brand strategist and copy writer. I mostly work with partner agencies or directly with the leadership or founding team at a brand. My primary mission is to connect design and messaging solutions to business missions. I work with start-ups and Fortune 500 companies, across beauty, hospitality, wellness/fitness, CPG and retail. This blog reflects my personal writing and explores our humanity – often as it relates to work, space, time and language. You can review my portfolio here or connect with me here.

Photo - Andrew Stiles

The Brandsmiths Podcast



Brand Strategists Hilary Laffer and Amy Swift Crosby tackle business questions with candid, (mostly) serious and definitely unscripted workshopping sessions. Guests – from small business owners to CEOs, executive directors and founders – bring their head-scratchers, hunches and conundrums to Hilary, the owner of a boutique creative agency in Los Angeles, and Amy, a copy writer.

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