Mr. Dick is Novel
On novelty in food & other corners.
The art of novelty is finer than a gold thread. It wears off easily. I paid a visit in July to Mr. Dick in Shudehill. They sell waffles in the shape of vulvas and penii. I found out about the place via the Facebook page of the local newspaper.
We queued up along with many other excitable people and waited. Eventually, we reached the point where you order, and I was asked in a most serious tone:
“Would you like a penis or pussy?”
Suppressing laughter, I asked for the dick and was directed to the area where they drizzle chocolate sauce over your doughy phallus. On the first bite, I recognised just how awful it tasted. The white chocolate sauce was my saving grace.
The whole thing is about novelty. Waffles shaped like reproductive parts is bound to get people talking. It’s a gimmick—a marketing tool. There are no passionate pastry chefs behind this project. It’s all about the shock factor.
Novelty isn’t something solely reserved for food, however. As people, especially those in competitive industries, we forge novel personalities. We become a caricature of our true selves. Everything is amplified; our voice, our confidence, our style. I saw someone make the point that reinventing yourself as the person you want to be is ok, but I’m not so sure.
In the non-virtual world, we find sanctity in honesty. We admire it. Yet, when it comes to being online, we are no longer responsible for what we say or how we present ourselves. Another person claimed that they do not owe anyone “real-ness” on social media. I believe we do.
If you constantly push this novel version of yourself, not only are you going to become attached to this porcelain persona, but you are going to create a name for yourself that you may never get away from. If you make it your mission to be controversial online, that is how you will be seen.
It would be hypocritical to criticise that colleague who pretends they are something they’re not, but encourage baking yourself into a character online. Why anyone would want to portray themselves as someone that will melt if provoked is beyond me.
You see it all the time; the posed photos of smudged lipstick across the face, mascara dripping down. The caption underneath reads:
I am broken, but someday I will be whole again.
It often seems that those with vicious, glaring personas deny having one at all. But, if you hammer and chisel, you’ll see the dullness beneath the gold plating.
P.S. I’m going to start posting once a week from Tuesday, but I thought I’d provide you with another piece of writing to tide you over until then.