Problem: many people - men in particular - fear offering up a seat on the tube/subway/metro for fear of confusing a pregnant lady with a non-pregnant fat lady. The result is that it's prefereable to be inconsiderate to the expectant mother than risk offending the merely overweight.
Solution: London Underground came up with this genius bit of choice architecture to help us all: a button badge that broadcasts your status as mum-to-be. If I know you're definitely pregnant, I can offer my seat risk-free.
I am obsessed with Conrad Shawcross' Space Trumpet.
A 9x9x9 meter installation in the atrium of Unilever's Blackfriars office, Space Trumpet is four giant gramophone horns suspended from the ceiling, and appears to be a larger version of an existing work.
It's mesmerising partly because it's awesome in the purest sense of the word (it's 9 meters square, after all), partly because it moves. When you're not looking. At least that's how it feels. As Mr Shawcross explains:
"The space is very white and clinical, and I like the way the wood of 'Space Trumpet' contrasts with that. It's built for that space – a series of tulip shapes that rotate a certain amount throughout the day – and it's on a constant cycle. You get a constantly changing view that takes two months to repeat; by that time hopefully you will have forgotten how it looked at the start. I wanted to do something that was for the people working in the building. I wanted it to be almost like looking out of a window, like the effect the weather has."
Unfortunately, "throughout the day" seems to mean at some point in each 24 hours and that point is mostly outside regular office hours. Which means it's hard to catch it moving. It's like a cartoon where a character moves only when the other isn't looking.
But thankfully its perambulations are not exclusively out of hours. For at least one day in that two month cycle, Space Trumpet moves at lunchtime. And last month I managed to catch it in the act with my dirty-lensed iPhone:
In New York, back in April, at the local Food Emporium I snapped these detergent packs (I know, I know, what can I say? The ash cloud had me discombobulated).
The thing that caught my eye was this: every single bottle, all of them - including the one intended to keep your dark clothes dark - featured a cleanliness signifying sun burst or light flare.
But there was one exception; one brand that zigged when everyone else zagged; walked its own path. Which one? It was...
The guys at Death Spray Custom - and Ben for that matter - have been all over this for a while. But I've been spotting a few examples of this round my way so it must be catching on. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you stealth:
Have you noticed the tiny graph on your flickr homepage? The one that links to your stats?
I've just noticed that it's dynamic. The graphic is a tiny representation of your stats graph, and changes according to your traffic:
Such a tiny feature. But it tickled me to notice it.
If you start getting obsessive about your daily flickr traffic, this little link is your dealer. It's your gateway to the goodstuff. Someone, somewhere in flickr took the trouble to understand that obsessiveness and designed a little reward.
And it made me realise that good design is - consciously or otherwise - full of tiny details like this that acknowledge and repay your attention. From the messages on the bottom of an Innocent carton to the fact that the iPod Touch/iPhone calendar icon always shows today's date, these touches are like little membership badges: small tokens to notice - collect - and keep as a reminder that you're a part of the club.
Nice little behind-the-scenes film of Mr Wilson's Artikcar.
I want one. It would be perfect for the commute.
About
I'm Patrick. I'm a planner. By day, I'm a Group Planning Director at EuroRSCG. The rest of the time I like to ride bikes, grow various hair/beard combinations, watch HBO and procrastinate.
If you want to get in touch to talk about planning or bikes (or other things, for that matter) drop me a note at padsyms at googlemail dot com.
It should go without saying, but I'll say it anyway: all views expressed here, even the sensible ones, are mine and not my employer's. I thank you.
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