Some people, okay a lot of people, used it as an opportunity to be tongue in cheek and respond with things like: cheaply built condos, boarded up Starbuckses, Hooker Harvey's, Drake's house in the Bridle Path, the crumbling Gardiner Expressway, and that McDonald's at the northwest corner of Queen and Spadina (this one is no longer a contender for me now that they've gotten rid of their walk-up window).
Of course, there were also a lot of the usual suspects: The Sky Dome, The Gooderham Building (our miniature Flatiron Building), Casa Loma, The Royal Ontario Museum (specifically the expansion by
Some people, okay a lot of people, used it as an opportunity to be tongue in cheek and respond with things like: cheaply built condos, boarded up Starbuckses, Hooker Harvey's, Drake's house in the Bridle Path, the crumbling Gardiner Expressway, and that McDonald's at the northwest corner of Queen and Spadina (this one is no longer a contender for me now that they've gotten rid of their walk-up window).
Of course, there were also a lot of the usual suspects: The Sky Dome, The Gooderham Building (our miniature Flatiron Building), Casa Loma, The Royal Ontario Museum (specifically the expansion by
Studio Libeskind
), "New City Hall", The Royal York Hotel, Honest Ed's, The St. Lawrence Market, Robarts Library (University of Toronto), and a bunch of others that you might find displayed on the seat screen on your next Air Canada flight.
But I'd like to unpack the initial question a bit more. Because what does it really mean for something to be a symbol of a city? And is there an important distinction between the symbols that resonate with locals on a personal level and the symbols that get exported around the world as a city's brand and identity? Indeed, one of the criteria in most global city rankings is a prominent and recognizable skyline. Icons are important.
Let's consider an example. I agree entirely with Sean Marshall that "New City Hall" is a deeply symbolic building. Built in the early 1960s after decades of work, New City Hall was the outcome of an international design competition. And it was decidedly modern at a time when Toronto really wasn't that modern. Montréal was the biggest and most global city in the country and multiculturalism hadn't yet become a federal mandate. And so New City Hall symbolized our genuine ambitions to becoming something more.
But does the rest of the world care? If you were to ask somebody my question on the streets of Rio de Janeiro or Tokyo, what would they say? What would they remember? The thing about most tall buildings or other city symbols is that they become abstractions. They turn into pictures on social media -- like logos of a company. But maybe that's all we can reasonably ask of the world. Maybe all that really matters is that a symbol has local significance; it's then up to us to export it and tell that story to the rest of the world.
This is an interesting article by Ben Schott of Bloomberg talking about how "debranding is the new branding." In it he argues that for reasons of fashion, tech, and other factors, many or perhaps most brands seem to be shedding detail and depth in their brands/logos and moving toward simplicity and flatness. He calls this debranding (which doesn't quite feel like the right word to me.)
Countless examples are provided ranging from Burger King and KFC to Saint Laurent Paris and Diane Von Furstenberg. In all cases, their logos and lockups went from elaborate to minimal. And in some cases, names were deliberately shortened. Kentucky Friend Chicken, as you all know, became KFC, largely because "fried" was becoming an undesirable reference.
The same is also true for newer brands that have no history of elaborate logos. As I was reading through the article, I started thinking about some of the project brands that we have created over the years. Here is our logo for Junction House (crafted by Vanderbrand):
Some of this is certainly about fashion. At this point, overly detailed logos feel a bit cartoonish and antiquated. Clean and minimal is pretty much what you want today. Slate's logo went through a similar transformation over the years and is now, as many of you know, a black box with white text.
Another part of this is that logos and brands now need to live in so many different locations from favicons and mobile apps to business cards and social media profile photos. Sometimes you just don't have enough real estate to show a lot of detail.
Simplicity can also signal strength. Starbucks is perhaps a good example of this. Initially their logo spelled out Starbucks Coffee. But now we all associate their green nautical-inspired sea lady with Starbucks Coffee and so those words are no longer necessary. This kind of brand equity, of course, takes time to build.
Fashion label Off-White is another interesting case study that I wrote about a few years ago, over here. What they have managed to do is take simple and mundane things like quotation marks and really own them as part of their brand. Put any word in quotation marks on a t-shirt and you'll have me thinking it's a $315 Off-White tee.
Earlier this week, Apple let us know that it is now calling its stores “town squares.” Not surprisingly, this elicited more than a few reactions. The Verge called it a “pretentious farce.” Others called it arrogant. Who is Apple to think that its stores could ever come close to a real town square?
It also raised important questions around the actual “publicness” of the spaces within our cities. Traditionally, town squares have indeed been public. But our cities are now also filled with many privately owned public spaces (POPS). Most of the time you don’t know the difference. Though sometimes you do.
The reality is that there is a longstanding tradition of private retail-oriented spaces trying to simulate the experience of a town square, and certainly of a gathering space. The creator of the modern mall, Victor Gruen, always thought of his “garden courts” as a kind of substitute for traditional urban spaces. This was him trying to nobly urbanize the suburbs.
What is perhaps unique about Apple’s town square nomenclature is that – beyond simply wanting to be a Starbucks-esque “third place” – they seem to be telling us that they want to usurp the public nucleus away from the proverbial “garden court” and place it in their individual stores.
And the reactions we have seen are because that feels far fetched.
However this plays out, this is a very clear acknowledgement by Apple that in today’s world being a store simply isn’t enough. That’s no longer interesting. Consumers have far easier options at their disposable. You need to give us more of a reason to visit you in your store or, dare I say, your town square.
Studio Libeskind
), "New City Hall", The Royal York Hotel, Honest Ed's, The St. Lawrence Market, Robarts Library (University of Toronto), and a bunch of others that you might find displayed on the seat screen on your next Air Canada flight.
But I'd like to unpack the initial question a bit more. Because what does it really mean for something to be a symbol of a city? And is there an important distinction between the symbols that resonate with locals on a personal level and the symbols that get exported around the world as a city's brand and identity? Indeed, one of the criteria in most global city rankings is a prominent and recognizable skyline. Icons are important.
Let's consider an example. I agree entirely with Sean Marshall that "New City Hall" is a deeply symbolic building. Built in the early 1960s after decades of work, New City Hall was the outcome of an international design competition. And it was decidedly modern at a time when Toronto really wasn't that modern. Montréal was the biggest and most global city in the country and multiculturalism hadn't yet become a federal mandate. And so New City Hall symbolized our genuine ambitions to becoming something more.
But does the rest of the world care? If you were to ask somebody my question on the streets of Rio de Janeiro or Tokyo, what would they say? What would they remember? The thing about most tall buildings or other city symbols is that they become abstractions. They turn into pictures on social media -- like logos of a company. But maybe that's all we can reasonably ask of the world. Maybe all that really matters is that a symbol has local significance; it's then up to us to export it and tell that story to the rest of the world.
This is an interesting article by Ben Schott of Bloomberg talking about how "debranding is the new branding." In it he argues that for reasons of fashion, tech, and other factors, many or perhaps most brands seem to be shedding detail and depth in their brands/logos and moving toward simplicity and flatness. He calls this debranding (which doesn't quite feel like the right word to me.)
Countless examples are provided ranging from Burger King and KFC to Saint Laurent Paris and Diane Von Furstenberg. In all cases, their logos and lockups went from elaborate to minimal. And in some cases, names were deliberately shortened. Kentucky Friend Chicken, as you all know, became KFC, largely because "fried" was becoming an undesirable reference.
The same is also true for newer brands that have no history of elaborate logos. As I was reading through the article, I started thinking about some of the project brands that we have created over the years. Here is our logo for Junction House (crafted by Vanderbrand):
Some of this is certainly about fashion. At this point, overly detailed logos feel a bit cartoonish and antiquated. Clean and minimal is pretty much what you want today. Slate's logo went through a similar transformation over the years and is now, as many of you know, a black box with white text.
Another part of this is that logos and brands now need to live in so many different locations from favicons and mobile apps to business cards and social media profile photos. Sometimes you just don't have enough real estate to show a lot of detail.
Simplicity can also signal strength. Starbucks is perhaps a good example of this. Initially their logo spelled out Starbucks Coffee. But now we all associate their green nautical-inspired sea lady with Starbucks Coffee and so those words are no longer necessary. This kind of brand equity, of course, takes time to build.
Fashion label Off-White is another interesting case study that I wrote about a few years ago, over here. What they have managed to do is take simple and mundane things like quotation marks and really own them as part of their brand. Put any word in quotation marks on a t-shirt and you'll have me thinking it's a $315 Off-White tee.
Earlier this week, Apple let us know that it is now calling its stores “town squares.” Not surprisingly, this elicited more than a few reactions. The Verge called it a “pretentious farce.” Others called it arrogant. Who is Apple to think that its stores could ever come close to a real town square?
It also raised important questions around the actual “publicness” of the spaces within our cities. Traditionally, town squares have indeed been public. But our cities are now also filled with many privately owned public spaces (POPS). Most of the time you don’t know the difference. Though sometimes you do.
The reality is that there is a longstanding tradition of private retail-oriented spaces trying to simulate the experience of a town square, and certainly of a gathering space. The creator of the modern mall, Victor Gruen, always thought of his “garden courts” as a kind of substitute for traditional urban spaces. This was him trying to nobly urbanize the suburbs.
What is perhaps unique about Apple’s town square nomenclature is that – beyond simply wanting to be a Starbucks-esque “third place” – they seem to be telling us that they want to usurp the public nucleus away from the proverbial “garden court” and place it in their individual stores.
And the reactions we have seen are because that feels far fetched.
However this plays out, this is a very clear acknowledgement by Apple that in today’s world being a store simply isn’t enough. That’s no longer interesting. Consumers have far easier options at their disposable. You need to give us more of a reason to visit you in your store or, dare I say, your town square.
