I love a good awards ceremony. Ever since I won the Pinewood Derby as a Cub Scout at about the age of seven, I have been obsessed with trophies and those satin blue ribbons with lots of ruffles and lettering in big, bold gold type that my friends who jumped horses had all over their walls.
Frankly, there’s nothing better than a gilt statuette perched atop a plastic base. In time, the gold will start to peel and the nut and screw holding the plastic base to the urn or statuette will loosen, but so what? By the time your statuette is un-screwed, you probably won’t remember what the award really stood for anyhow.
The best awards are the ones that can be put to a good use and not clutter up the bookshelf: I won an award for something a few years back, and that chunky glass pyramid now works perfectly for smashing ice before cocktail parties. My chipped-ice martinis are famous, so thank you to the Folio Magazine Awards.
Just remember: Today’s peacock, tomorrow’s feather duster. That’s what my mom always told me, and they are good words to live by. Your blog might kick some major metrics ass right now, but don’t rest on your laurels. Speaking of which, we are design bloggers so who wants to rest on an uncomfortable laurel anyhow. If I plan to rest upon anything it will be a Trina Turk-covered daybed in the courtyard of a hotel in Palm Springs, n’est-ce pas, and not some tree branch.
Frankly, if I were in charge of this awards ceremonies, I would be giving everyone a Jereboam of vodka: What could be better than a double magnum of liquor to keep you in a celebratory mood. And I would probably throw in a few mixers, too, for winners like this was some VIP lounge with table service.
“Here’s your Stoli, and we’re throwing in some Mr. & Mrs. T Bloody Mary Mix, cranberry juice, some celery, a few limes, salt, and peanuts. Thank you so much for your dedication. Now go Tweet, sweetie, and drink up, buttercup. #killerpartyinroom405 later”
So, welcome to the Design Bloggers Hall of Fame. It’s sort of like the Best-Dressed Hall of Fame, only we aren’t critiquing your engaging fashion ensembles but rather your gimlet-eyed glance upon the worlds of style and design. Your blog rocks. Seriously. And we love you, dearly. Just don’t blather on too much when you get up here to accept your award, and don’t close your eyes when the requisite photo is snapped.
And, good lord, I am hosting.
Just stay awake. I have no intention of going down in the annals as the James Franco and Anne Hathaway combo-from-hell or a nose-picking Chevy Chase of the Design Bloggers Conference. If the motor idles, I am ordering in pizza and Chardonnay, and we can play “Chug Boat” and Tobi Fairley can be Florence Henderson and Ronda Carman, Charro.
Or maybe I’ll loll about in the audience and ask provocative personal questions (“So, what do you REALLY think of Kelly Wearstler, and did you see her Playboy spread years back?” Or “Do you think anyone is going to hook up at this conference? Name the names.”).
Or I’ll get Bethanne Matari from Currey & Co. up here to tell off-color jokes.
“OK, so this one time at band camp…”
Fasten your seatbelts, it’s going to be a bumpy lunch.
Oh. And next year we want to hear just where you stuck your award.