Room 302: the Ideas That Lie Beyond the Brief
Once upon a time, there was a senior copywriter who was given the mandate to come up with an advertising campaign for a hotel chain. Because the deadline was very tight, he left the office right away and decided to go on a jog, hoping that some divine inspiration would strike him. It didn’t happen. Too many things to say. A brief that looked like a list of groceries, as it’s too often the case.
After a warm shower, he uncorked a bottle of wine and ripped the brief into shambles. He asked himself one single question: what inspires me in hotels? It’s then and there that the story of room 302 started to take shape.
We were at Uncle Sam’s and the wallpaper smelled of aborted stories.
I was lying down with one of those bedside Bible in my hands.
I wasn’t waiting for the Apocalypse.
I was just waiting for you to come out of the shower.
You appeared before me, naked.
You looked nothing like a Saint-Puritan or a Holy Prude.
I made the sign of the cross.
I said, “Put your right breast on this book.
Do you swear to utter dirty words,
Only dirty words,
Nothing but dirty words?
– I swear.”
You lied down on the bed, and you said,
“I love you.”
I never pictured myself as the Promised Land.
Quickly, I handcuffed you, as you had just betrayed a holy contract.
You took this opportunity to put on your forbidden fruit face, and you whispered:
“I plead guilty and ask to be sentenced to life in love.
– Now, that’s dirty.”
A few weeks later, a website was unveiled, on which every room had its own story. Several well-known writers decided to take part in the project. Then, a photographer jumped onboard. A book was published, which was left in every room of this hotel chain. The effect was viral. Yet, this had nothing to do with the brief. But with the complicity of a visionary client, a spirit had been given to a brand.