Falling back in love


On Monday I fell in love; or to be more precise, I fell back in love. The old adage that absence makes the heart grow fonder doesn’t seem to necessarily hold. Despite being proud to be a born and bred Londoner, after four months living in New York, I think I genuinely started falling out of love with the place I still call home.

Monday was a reawakening for me; a rebirth if you will. After running around Hampstead, Covent Garden, Camden Town, Old Street, Shoreditch, Hoxton and Bethnal Green (yes I was exhausted) I realized that there was something about the incongruity of London’s many epicenters and their sprawling inconsistencies that is truly beautiful. London may be a mongrel of a city, but it’s precisely the tangle of higgledy piggledy streets and the juxtapositions that greet us at every turn that makes it so special.


London wasn’t the only thing I fell back in love with this Christmas. Having almost forgotten that they still existed, my childhood passion for Sun Maid Raisins was rekindled when I stumbled accross them in my local cornershop.

This got me thinking…Do we all have latent brand loyalties that have got lost within the excesses of uber-consumerism? Is rekindling consumer affinity with a brand that was once loved really as simple as ensuring that it is top of mind?

Have you ever fallen back in love with a brand that you once turned your back on? What made you come back for more?


8 responses to “Falling back in love

  1. I am interested in your reference to Sun Maid Rasisins, as mentioned in your latest blog. This is a product that my parents denied me the benefit of having when I was younger cause we was so poor we couldn’t afford fancy food like what you rich bastards at private school had the benefit of. I HAD TO MAKE DO WITH RAISINS and your blog has made me suicidal with grief and envy. Please tell me where I can buy rasisens, or I will do something stupid, and I aint joking. Look out Kid, its somethin’ you did, God knows when but your doin it again, you don’t need a weather man to know which way the wind blows……

  2. Being also a rich bastard from private school, I am also familiar with Rasisins and their more expensive cousin the rasisisin. What I want to know is where can I get Tizer, aniseed balls, bell bottoms and the courtesy and old fashioned values that came with them.
    Yob culture brings yob products, and nostalgia is now just a manipulative process used by the media to get money out of my pocket into theirs.
    Bring back Maggie, (may I say the sexiest woman alive in her day), and lets turn the clock back. It can be done if we all jump at once to shake the world out of mediocrity.
    Brands mean nothing without allying them to a pleasurable memory. In the sceptical and cynical world that whoseyourdaddy inhabits, that is very hard, which is why the advertising men stick to tits and arse.
    As someone else said, no one ever went bust underestimating the public.

    The philosopher’s apprentice (106)

  3. Dear apprentice…. its as obvious as the poker up your bottom, as to why, you will never be more than an umble dinosaur apprentice .!!
    You choose to live in both the past, and the shadow of your dead heroes, trapped in a nostalgic bubble of false memories, cocooned by your empty values, and comfortable in those rose colored bifocals.
    I choose to live in a cynical and sceptical world , which, by its very definition means one of doubt and questioning, because that is the way the world changes and society goes forward. You and your Neanderthal public school bum chums,do not surprise me in your desire to turn the clock back. Its the only way an endangered species like yourself could hope to survive. Advertising continually reinvents itself, metamorphosing and adapting to changes in culture and society.Artistically and intellectually confronting and challenging, and never, never, turning the clock back .
    Your reference to advertising men who use tits and arse to sell products , is a reflection on the magazines, and newspapers, I presume you subscribe to.

  4. Dear whoseyourdaddy,
    As someone so much older than any other contributor to this blog, I would have thought you would appreciate nostalgia more than anyone. You take your state handouts and your old age freedom pass ,but forget to pay tribute to the successes of the past that paid for them. You and your ilk sponge off me ,the tax payer, and yet offer lip service to some vacuous loyalty to any change, any future, even if it is no improvement on what we have now. I suggest you apply your post modernist, peanut brain as to how we avoid replacing something imperfect with something infinitely worse just for the sake of it.. Your serious addiction to change should be tempered by the realisation of your own limitations, which, withour meaning to be rude, are seismic. Thank God for the aristocracy, private schools and the class system which on the whole keep jumped up imposters like you in the back seats.
    The past is where I want to live, and we should have called a halt at 1984. After that it all went downhill.
    Pip pip!

    The Philosopher’s apprentice.

  5. Dylan. Pay no attention to these dinosaurs. I’d rather make the odd spelling mistake than appear to have eaten a thesaurus and started spouting synonyms out of my arse.

  6. Yes, remind me did you ever find out who your daddy is?
    Look after corblimey and share some Sun Maidens with him.

  7. Who's your daddy's bestest buddy in the whole world

    I fell back in love with Andrex, Durex. Spandex.Tampax, Optrex TetraPax, ExLax, Dax Slax, Packamax, Tin Tax, The Fax, Ball and Jax and my uncle Max

  8. I fell in love again with Andrex, Durex, Spandex, Tampax, Ex Lax, TinTax, Dax Slax, PackaMax, Ball and Jax, Arse Crax and Brazillian Wax…….

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