MAKE. THEM. FEEL. SOMETHING.

CUT YOUR TEETH is a daily column of personal essays by Taylor Barnes on art, advertising, business, brand, narrative, design, culture, life, and more—all with the intention of helping you forge your creative palate. AKA whatever feeds me during the day of writing is what you’ll read. Thanks for being here.

It’s 1:40 PM.

I’ve gone back and forth on a few ideas I wanted to write for you today, because, if I’m honest, there’s a lot to talk about.

Thankfully, what we have to explore today are all little delights. No disasters, just interesting and lovely things happening in interconnected fields I care about. Like a box of chocolates I haven’t yet unwrapped, custom-selected by a chocolatier in a family-owned candy shop that I love as closely as the coffee I purchase (or make—but I’m no stranger to small pleasures that keep my focus intact and my heart ablaze).

I haven’t encountered this kind of chocolatier or candy shop just yet, but what a beautiful thing to imagine, isn’t it? It’s one of those quiet meditations I love to daydream about, mentally painting what it would be like writing this letter from a place like a garden in the French countryside, or one of the benches positioned right outside the Louvre on a relatively quiet afternoon.

(Someday, I’ll tell you about my first and, to this day, only time visiting the Louvre, and what that did to my heart and soul and mind)

Before I get too wayward with this…

I want to get one thing out of the way, because it feels necessary, and whether that’s linked to insecurity or not has yet to be seen:

I’m allergic to jumping on bandwagons.

It’s exactly as it reads. Trends. Popular topics. Exploding, excitable things circulating around the internet and in culture and all that. The waves of unavoidable, noisy hype. Millions of voices chiming in on a topic they may care about to some degree, but have little to nothing to offer in terms of the overall discussion.

Something about witnessing the newest gossip in headlines, or the sheer volume of pseudo-intellectual backwash that floods my inboxes and social feeds makes my skin prickle. I also have never liked communities, or fandoms, or the tribalistic attitude towards these things. I love being on my own and having small, intimate discussions with people. This is part of why I left Substack, but that’s a story for another time.

Too much hype frustrates me and makes me not want to participate. Too much glorification makes me bitter, and hyper-aware that I need to pull myself away from the subject to avoid integrating any biased thoughts or irritation.

If you have any interest in commentary, or sharing your deeper thoughts on a subject, it’s a very important thing to practice awareness around a topic that you may feel too strongly about, so that you can pull yourself away and reassess at a time where you can be more objective.

On top of that, there are countless magazines, Substacks, influencers, creators, entrepreneurs, podcasters, and similar voices who would rather copy each other and wax poetic on the exact same thing, at the exact same time, with little variation in what they’re talking about.

The majority of these “thoughts” are puff pieces in disguise, parroted with little thought, and even less imagination. Most are just desperately trying to follow a popular thing in hopes of going viral. They don’t actually care about what they’re talking about.

I mostly feel sad for them, because those hours upon hours of wasted effort spent on things they don’t care about in an effort to garner attention, could have been poured into listening to the parts of themselves people actually want to see.

There are exceptions, of course, but those are usually found through perspectives I respect, and admire, and who instantly make me take a second to realize: “Oh, I haven’t written my piece today.” And so I go and do that thing. Or write that thing, at least.

(People like Brenda, for example. Her stuff is fantastic. If you know, you know).

So, there might be a part of you wondering why I’m talking to you about this at all.

Why I’m bothering to shed any light on the recent, heavily-discussed campaign circulating Dior’s beautiful hand-drawn film, reminiscent of anime—an art form I care deeply about—and the kind of classic storytelling you would normally see from an art house, or a tiny studio.

I’m talking about it because I want to, first off.

That’s the simplest and most honest reason.

(Sometimes you don’t need any other reason than you simply don’t want to; don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, especially if you’re an artist, a writer, etc. and they’re, well… not)

If I want to expand on that though, I’ll let you know I’ve been in my own head and world about this topic in pieces. Floating puzzle pieces that sprouted wings when my back was turned. Only now, after pondering in-between sprints for client projects and thinking and navigating unexpected illnesses, have I realized what I truly want to say about the newest work from Dior.

I’m also talking about it because it represents one of the things I value the most as someone who works in copy, brand storytelling, and narrative:

TIMELESSNESS.

Human craft. Artistry. Hand-drawn over machine-generated. Painted, too. The act of human intention and direction, with slowness and patience. The collaborative effort between the brand, the core values of their message, and the creative partners willing to bring their magical intention to life. The echo of storytelling threaded throughout the product. The product acting as a gateway, not simply a thing to buy. The heritage of an icon, brought into the present as a graceful act of rebellion—an act of rebellion dressed in bright colors, whimsical florals, and a beautiful love letter to a story that begins in 1947, dancing in Christian Dior’s gardens in Grasse, and leads into the bustling streets of Paris. The care and attention of a lover. The intelligence and direction of a curator. Ideas borne from the act of wanting to try. The act of wishing to explore beyond what’s expected. To interpret what the story means as its center, long before it became an icon, long before it became a public centerpiece, long before it became a staple in luxury products.

I’m happy this film is gaining traction, because it’s representative of what people are looking for right now.

They want to feel things. They want to be transported into a world. They want to step into a universe. There’s never been more demand for experiences crafted for people who are sick of “content” (truly, viscerally, violently dislike that word) that gain traction for about 24 hours, and then disappear into the invisible Graveyard of Dead Ideas—never to be seen, talked about, or heard from again.

This isn’t just about advertising, and the interesting age we’re stepping into regarding that. This concerns everything about you—yes, you—and everything you want to create. It doesn’t matter who you are, or what you do. Not really. If you give a damn about creating worthwhile work, and if you have tremendous influence—or wish to have tremendous influence—it’s your responsibility to make sure it’s crafted with heart.

You have to think about how your perspective could shape the work you want to make, with zero interference from anyone else. Don’t think about trends. Don’t think about your peers. Your friends. Your significant other. Don’t even think about your audience. Think about what makes the most sense to the inner fire. You have to let the unblemished voices of your own thoughts, ideas, and stories come out and play. Without these uninterrupted waves, you’re left with

Now, this will adjust depending on whether you need this advice for, say, creating a personal brand, or for developing a project like Dior. In Dior’s case, they actually didn’t focus on creating anything trendy, or performative, at all. This feels less like an evolution for the brand, and more like they’re expanding on a language they’ve already crafted. If you take a look at their older advertising, you’ll glimpse the beautiful hand-drawn silhouettes of women in gowns, whimsical drawings of their ideal men walking up in tailored suits and arms full of bouquets bursting with flowers, vibrant colors, black and white editorial photography, and the uncompromising vision of a brand that puts the female gaze front and center.

While the animated film is a breath of fresh air, and exquisitely crafted, the most important lesson I think we should take from this isn’t to follow its literal example.

I don’t care if you’re an illustrator, a painter, a writer, a musician, an art director or a circus pony—you should never, ever, use what inspires you as an excuse to create exactly the same thing with a slightly different coat of paint.

This is a act of dishonor towards yourself and those around you, because you’re informing your audience that what you’re creating is, in fact, a mirror of your soul, but in actuality it’s a cheap imitation of something far superior that was crafted with originality and vision.

I understand the philosophy behind “stealing what works and making it your own” from a strategy perspective, but it’s planted seeds of cheap mental labor and uninspiring work. The lack of effort is becoming a disease, and those who actually have something to say are losing the visibility game. I predict these people will be celebrated several years after their work publishes, only due to the fact that the fastest and nosiest development is often the piece that gets the most attention—and thus, the most press, the most news, and the most celebration. But then, that celebration fades, and what’s left behind determines whether or not it’s meant to stay.

Dior’s newest campaign is lovely. Whether they’ll continue to set an example by staying true to themselves and evolving on a language they’ve already established, is another discussion entirely. I’m always going to be cautiously optimistic about this sort of thing, because to think otherwise is almost blasphemous.

If you want to be remembered—and invite your people along—you need to tell timeless stories. Reach into what makes you identifiable, what makes you irreplaceable, from how you came to be to where you want to go in the future, and be ruthlessly unapologetic about exactly how you want to present yourself. How you approach this will determine how you approach your work. It will directly influence whether you create something lazy and familiar, but uninspired, vs. something as lovely and encouraging as an animated film by a brand that wasn’t afraid to go back to its roots. Evolved.

Anyone could’ve made an animated brand film, even one as beautiful as this one.

But only Dior could’ve made a film this lovely, this honest, and this transcendental for product, brand, and generation about the iconic Miss Dior personality.

They made the right people feel what they wanted them to feel.

This created connection. New stories to share. New communal energy to nurture.

It’s a lesson we can all learn from.

If we pay attention.

— Taylor Barnes.