Ghetto Green Restaurants, etc.

This evening I attended a brief workshop at Green Spaces in downtown Chattanooga for local writers and designers, eagerly drinking in the advice and inspiration, and wishing I had taken a few art classes during my college years. At one point, the discussion began morphing into a question of when, if ever, it is actually inappropriate, a.k.a. not necessary, for designers and writers to try and "brand" a company or business. Someone suggested that when a company is doing well as is, and the product speaks for itself, then pushing a flashy new logo or tag-line is, in a sense...unethical. It's like pushing one's own agenda to make a buck....which isn't an act of service. The example used by the speaker was that of a top-notch, award-winning restaurant he once patronized that is so plainly, randomly, and unassumingly decorated one would never guess it afforded so superior a culinary experience.

I was contemplating this on my drive home, trying to think of other examples of places I knew that were...right?--just the way they were. That's when I drove past that little chartreuse-painted Chinese restaurant on Broad Street where I have often popped in for a crab rangoon fix. As I briefly glimpsed the dingy building that in my generation's lingo begs the term "so ghetto," I knew in an instant that I would never want that place to be flashy and modern. The simply adorned exterior with the ugly, grungy sign is a mere facade concealing the peaceful, genteel manner of the family who runs it, and there is something beautiful in the feeling of walking off a dirty street with all my burdens of complexity and clamor into a warm, aromatic room with velvety red carpet and a mini fountain complete with mist and bamboo shoots. Such a building invites poetry.

Maybe that attitude is too Romanticist. I am still thinking through it even now. But it seems to me that familiarity holds a special place in human hearts, whether it's Grandma's kitchen, or an obscure little diner. Familiarity leads to attachment, and attachment is a strong basis for security. I feel secure, silly as it seems, when I see that Chinese restaurant looking the same as always and know that any time I need to get some cream cheese and crustacean goodies (I promise it really does taste divine) to shake off some stress, all I have to do is escape down the mountain and pull in that slightly shady parking lot.

So here's to being old-school and behind-the times...if it works for you, I say go for it.