⏪ is the way ⏩

Not including birthday or Christmas cards - when was the last time you got something meaningful in the post - a handwritten letter? This is a short tale about how I’m rewinding to move forward and more importantly, why?

Remember Mixtapes? I do. I used to make them. I would carefully curate, yet clumsily record mixtapes for my (then) girlfriend (H). Then Minidiscs and the ability to burn CDs came along and both killed the former and the entire format.

But before that… Before Mobile phones were “smart” and readily available (I got my first mobile delivered to me on my stand in July 1998 whilst exhibiting at the New Designers show in Islington London), we existed on BT Phonecard powered phonecalls, letters and mixtapes.

Circa December 1996 H and I would write letters to each other, often multiple times, every week. I was in Australia travelling, she was in the UK. Our letters would be pages long. Drawings, scribbles, passages of prose. A romance blossomed. I remember exactly where I was when I first told her I loved her out loud, over the phone, 14,000 miles away (Katoomba YHA Hostel, Blue Mountains, NSW).

I’m sure kids today have their own version but love was earned and born over weeks, sometimes months. In our case it was pouring our heart and soul in to handwritten letters and long phonecalls from across the globe.

I still have many of the letters. Somewhere.

Reply by Post Only

In 2019 I started writing letters. This time to friends, peers, colleagues and would-be clients.

Vikki Ross reminded me recently that she still has hers or at least remembered the one I mailed to her.

These weren’t romantic love letters (obvs). But they were love letters of a different kind. Personal. Silly. But tangible little packets of loveliness landing on your doormat with that unmistakeable sound that tells you - that ain’t no circular or Shein delivery.

They were just notes. Stamped with my address adorned with my scrawling scribble (aka handwriting).

The point? Not sure there was one other than to stand out, reach out in the most personal way possible. I refused to communicate in any other form.

Some recipients kindly entertained my nonsense. I received replies, in the post. One exchange went on for weeks, often with one word or a daft sketch sent in a stamped, hand written envelope. Most didn’t reply and that’s okay.

Then the Pandemic decended and like most things, it feel by the wayside.

Human Services is nothing if not Human. Everything we do aims to harness the power of the human senses.

I’ve designed personal stationery for each partner. One colour, double sided 100% recycled A5 paper, printed with soya based ink. Folder, sealed in an A6 stamped addressee envelope.

Our special, A4 string tied Reds are reserved for hand delivering (when possible) to people we like, admire and want to worm with.

No decks. No sharing access. No dialing folks in. No laptops. No phones. Just face-to-face conversation, laughs and shared experience. With a subtle creative intelligebce report slid across the table and a promise: that’s just the start. There’s a lot more where that came from.

DUH! THIS AIN’T NUFFIN NEU?

Maybe it isn’t new but it’s unexpected and a simple way to surprise and delight. What is it Ogilvy said: zag when everyone zigs?

Has it yielded us paying work yet? No. Will it? I believe so, yes.

But you know what Human Services Reds have done? People haven’t just leaned in. Their smile beams. Their eyes light up. They carefully undo the tie string, open the envelope and read.

There’s not reems of twaddle, just considered words, sentences and some paragraphs of ideas and opportunities.

Yes, a deck by another name. But this one they keep. As our most recent recipient said it best:

‘This is beautiful. You get it. I can feel it. I will remember this.’

When was the last time your slide deck got stuck to a fridge door or pinned on a wall?

With love,

Steve