Je suis Nano.

Where the dickens am I?
Ah. Judging by the strap with the plastic doodad, I am in someone’s carry-on luggage, and will soon be hurtling through the atmosphere at an altitude of 35,000 feet, at the mercy of prosaic flight attendants.

It is quite hospitable of Cannes to provide me with the perfect vantage point from which I can reflect upon the sky, the sea, the vast potential of life, and Frenchwomen without bikini tops.

I am here for the Cannes Advertising Festival. It is not as salacious or perverted as they make it out to be. Or perhaps my assigned human is not visiting the right places. Instead of bringing me to the Gutter Bar, she totes me along to talks in the Grand Palais. What need have I for the latest trends in digital engagement? I require inspiration! Someone hand me a glass of rosé!

There is too much bread here.

Humans of all stripes keep stealing glances at me in the auditorium. This would not happen at the Gutter Bar.

After many such days, we are outdoors. The carousel near the Palais is a welcome sight for an inspiration-starved poet such as myself.

The muse comes in many forms. Here she is a horse with too much makeup.

But we must take what we are given.
“Forsooth! It is in the grace of sunlight
that we forsake our boots too tight.”
Yes, I know it needs more work.

It is our last day. My sister will surely appreciate the picturesque landscape behind me.

In fact, I do believe she will be positively bilious with envy when next we meet. I must savor these last moments of self-indulgence! Everything is mere material for my poetry, of course. Until the next journey, mes amis. Au’voir.

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See you next year.

Joni, Jody and I took a cardiovascularly challenging stroll to Musée de la Castre yesterday afternoon, before the Film, Titanium and Integrated Awards night. Nano insisted on the more typical tourist shots, and I obliged.

The bar is so high my neck hurts peering up at it. But if there’s one thing Cannes teaches you, it’s how to jump in stilettos, preferably in silver-finished leather.

My next stop is Paris for a couple of days. Let’s see what happens.

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Le Pink.

After overdosing on fresh seafood (escargots rock) at Brun, thanks to Pepito, several of us landed in Le Pink, a couple of doors down. Le Pink is a little bar packed with personality, a lot of it gay. We had rosé and laughter and Herbert’s scarf.

Peter and Merlee:

Les Young Lions:

Noel and Nandy:

The DM9 gang on the way to the DDB party:

Good night, Cannes!

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Winding down Cannes.

Y&R has a new logo? Where was the memo?

Walking to the Y&R party on the Carlton beachfront, I realized the logo on the backdrop of the Y&R-sponsored Rupert Murdoch talk was not a glitch in the matrix. From 100% cyan, it is now white with a thick dark blue outline. It looks like a cross between a ballet dancer and a bouncer. I’m sure it will grow on me. Like mushrooms on a log. (Okay, I’m being tetchy and uncharitable.)

I overslept and missed the Crispin talk. I made sure not to miss Jonah Bloom with Maurice Levy, and David Droga and Unicef for the Tap Project.

Angel asked me, how would you describe Maurice’s hair? I said, “Leonine.” It matches the Publicis lion logo. That made me think about how hair can be such a signature for ad people. There’s Bob Isherwood’s platinum shocker, Bob Greenberg’s not-quite-tonsure and the BBDO guy who keeps going up the stage for HBO Voyeur with the if-Farrah-Fawcett-had-a-mullet. (Every time he’s gone up on stage I find myself applauding his look as well as his work.)

Back home there’s Merlee’s unflappable bob, Kat’s non-hair and Ompong’s boucles. Boucles, I have deciphered from the intensive study of Garnier hair products at Monoprix, is curls.

I’m sure I’ll see more hair – and more great work – tomorrow night at the Film, Titanium and Integrated Awards. A big shoutout to DM9 and TBWA for getting into the film shortlist, not a small feat considering the others on the list. I’d like to see Tan Hong Ming get metal. Previous Grand Prix winners Times of India (direct) and HBO Voyeur (Outdoor) are also in contention for Titanium, as well as big Clio winner Halo 3/Believe.

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The Saatchi & Saatchi New Directors Showcase was a hit, as usual.

The queue stretched up three stories. No one complained about missing lunch.

The show opened with Bob Isherwood apologizing for the delay, but I would have waited for as long as it took. Even the theatrical introduction to the directors’ reel was a grand display of stage technique and how a live performance and video feed can work together to deliver an extraordinary experience, one in which emotion sharpens the intellectual appreciation of technique. It began simply, with the spotlight on a man (the “director” persona) walking on an elevated treadmill, and escalated to fake blood, flying styrofoam beans and gigantic cardboard walls.

I am a huge fan of the Arcade Fire and REM, and absolutely loved the last director on the reel, Vincent Moon. CNN has an article on his Take Away Shows. Watch Arcade Fire doing Neon Bible in an elevator. Michael Stipe laughing at the end of Living Well’s the Best Revenge. All the Take Away Shows are here. Scroll down for Andrew Bird, Xiu Xiu, Elysian Fields, and more.

The full reel isn’t up yet on heresanidea.com, but it should be soon. Watch. Take away an idea or two.

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No show tonight. But many parties!

Today is the Saatchi & Saatchi New Directors’ Showcase at 11:45 in the Grand Audi. I hope I make it in time to snag a seat. It’s easily the most awaited seminar during the Festival. I’m already missing the TBWA one. But work comes in only one flavor, and right now that flavor’s prison guard.

Today is also Rupert Murdoch presented by Y&R, and the Y&R party on the Carlton beachfront.

Nano’s exhausted. Here he is resting with a hairbrush and foot blister plasters.

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Jury duty done!

Congratulations to DM9 for the Bronze Lion in Media!

There were four Philippine radio commercials that made it to the shortlist: NU 107 “Are You Ready to Rock,” Prolife Philippines “Regret,” Shell “Are We There Yet” and Vandol “Siren.”

The process was well-managed, my co-jurors were more than convivial, and Liz and I were late for the press conference because we were the token girls. (Yes, there’s a smiley in there somewhere.)

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The Festival begins.

I don’t know what the MTU setting under the Ethernet tab in Network Preferences really does, but setting it to a lower number seems to have worked. A little. It could be pure coincidence, but I am waiting less than an eternity now for pages to load. This can only be a good thing.

The Festival began today. I missed all the afternoon talks; I would have wanted to see Landor’s Design to Desire, but we were in the middle of finalizing the shortlist. The posters for Dentsu’s Asian Creativity talk are up. The booth selling Cannes Lions souvenir t-shirts is in its usual spot. I saw many delegates walking around, turquoise-and-black goodie bags in hand, desperately seeking shops that were open on Sunday. I’ll bring my MBP to the Palais tomorrow. At last, wifi that works! (If it’s like last year they’ll only allow each delegate 20 minutes, but 20 minutes of working wifi is better than 2 hours of non-working wifi. Yes, yes, I know I’m beating this beef of mine to the ground…)

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Off to Cannes.

I’ll be offline for the next day or so. Packing light, mostly black, with tiny shock blocks of color to keep me amused. I am taking Nano with me. He’s in a zebra bag sewn by Gabie for the trip. I took only one change of clothing for Nano, as I have bully-thick fingers.

Me: But Joey, how do I get the turtleneck over his hair?
Joey: You don’t. It has buttons, see?
Nano: Tita Joeeeey, help!

I certainly hope I am better as a judge than a doll guardian-and-wardrobe-attendant.

Take care, everyone. See you online soon.

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