Monday, June 11, 2012

ADCN 2012. “Wow”.

I love the ADCN Award-night. I really do. I think it’s awesome. It’s just pretty sweet to watch really nicely dressed-up people with little spots of red wine on their white shirts and smeared out lipstick on chins and bald heads. It’s fun to see. And participate in, obviously. Because I didn’t wear red lipstick for nothing. It’s important to have a strategic plan once you’re in. First, I always befriend the photographer. So he will re-do my picture at least 3 times, until I am satisfied with the result. Cause –damn it- there is a lot of serious competition out there. Secondly you should aim for the bar right after.

After I tackled this, I settled myself comfortably in the theater. The friendly ADCN people had placed a bottle of water on my seat. Which was very nice. I’ve saved it for crisis-time. Of course, apart from getting your picture taken in fancy clothes, even if it’s a rental, the ADCN is the acknowledgement and celebration of the creativity in the Dutch Advertising industry. And that is important.

I’ve noticed that the award show is getting more International. The Dutch awards were presented in English, by a Spanish guy, famous for doing the same thing for that other big award show in France. The spoken languages of the evening were an exotic mix of Dutch, English and some very inventive ‘Denglish’. Or ‘stone coal English’ as we Dutch people would say in Denglish.

I saw some really, really nice work this year. I could go on and on about the work, but I won’t, just because it has been covered extensively.

After the show it was time to get lost. Seriously lost. Which was an easy thing to do in the cellars and hallways of the ‘Concertgebouw’. It resulted in some intensive ‘where the flipping fuck r u’ texting. But eventually everybody found everybody else at the party in the basement. That dancehall dungeon was where I became rather unattractive for the photographer. Going by the temperature, the party apparently had a sauna theme. Which didn’t go to well with the black tie dress code. It was hot. People were sweating-up their rented tuxedo’s to the point of no deposit return. Being in a strapless dress I mainly had a sweaty upper lip and beer on my tits.

We danced, we sweated profoundly, we congratulated and patted each other on the shoulder, we cuddled with Golden Lamps, we sweated some more, we drank steamy beers, we peed in the bathrooms that became unisex: We had fun. We were young. It was a Thursday!

At the end of the night, I realized I hadn’t seen the photographer in over an hour. I found him sitting on a bench near the exit. He looked really tired. When I asked for yet another picture, he said his ‘battery was dead’. Honestly, I think it was for the best.

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