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Why Designers Are Good Pickup Artists

nochance

The number one trait that makes designers and pick up artists siblings from different mothers is their ability to instigate, favourable behaviour, emotions in the end user (which can be a girl they just met or the end customer they want in their sales funnel). Wait, what? That’s possible? But Paul, not all designers are extroverted or have the necessary social calibration to approach girls on the street.

Designers do it through their work- an arresting poster, a book jacket cover, interactions embedded into an app on your phone, provocative evening dress made for the gala, a piece of furniture or architecture and so on. Pick up artists do it through sub communications, while opening and engaging with the opposite sex.

“Hey! You’re hot! But looks are commodity! I’m hoping there’s something more to you and you’re not boring?”

Translate to branding or the design industry at large, echoes of “lipstick on the gorilla” or “lipstick on a pig” reverberate when design has only cosmetic impact. The ensuing argument suggest that design be meaningful and built on true insights- which comes from research, fact-finding, discovery, interviews, user tests and so on.


While designers use typography, colours, images, materials and visuals to make even the most mundane subject exciting, pick up artists use voice modulation, body language and vibe to spike a conversation.


The next thing which good pickup artists and designers have in common is their ability to convey intent. Clarity in communication is key to a successful design work and pick up. Why you need this product or service? What do I want from you?

Guiding users through a complex task on a website with seamless interactions is good user experience design. Leading the conversation, passing shit tests and moving the girl one step closer towards a date or phone number close is good game.

Lastly, good pickup artists and design leaders are equipped with emotional intelligence. They are not only able to guide thinking by listening and being aware of their surroundings and constantly reading/catching a user/girl/customer’s true emotions but being self-aware and congruent in approach.

In conclusion, designers and pick up artists are designing and driving the human experience.


Written for Threadless

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GQ SYNG

What’s the Indian rope trick have in common with picking up girls?

Senior Designer, Brand Designer, Experience Designer, Art Director, Creative Director, Branding, Brand Consultant, Brand Strategy, Brand Architecture, Brand Engagement, Brand Experience Design, Graphic Designer, Web Designer, Freelance Designer, Freelance Graphic Designer, Freelance Web Designer, Packaging Designer, Poster Design, Album Cover Design, Branded Environment Design, Environmental Graphics, Signage & Wayfinding, Logo Design, Brandmark, Brand Identity, Brand Driver, Brand Positioning, Naming, Verbal Branding, Visual Driver, Brand Guidelines, Book Cover Design, Editorial Design, Lookbook Design, Communication Design, Copywriter, Blogger, Brand Design Studio, Toronto, Downtown Toronto, New York, New York City, NYC, TDOT, GQ

For many years, people from across the world have travelled to Indian shores to witness a fakir climb miraculously his way up a rope that disappears into the thin sky above. Only to reappear minutes later from behind the crowd to everyone’s shock and loud applause.

Indian men, ever since, have developed a natural knack for a putting on a show. The only rational equivalent, for the sake of my argument, to the Indian rope trick is when an Indian man walks into a bar, approaches gorgeous women, walks out with a bunch of phone numbers and a girl in each arm.

The audience, including you, not only left shocked and amazed but also often left women-less. Don’t sweat, I’ve prepared a tandoori platter of dating tips that’ll have women eating from the palm of your hands. Couldn’t help the inane reference there.

Here’s what you need to know about an Indian man’s dating game.

First and foremost. Drop the plan. I’ve gone through my share of endless “game-plan” oriented dating websites, books and manuals. All those got me were nights alone at home with a beer and stale nachos from the night before.

Coming back home to an empty couch on several occasions, I can assure you that plans don’t work. Here’s why. You’ll have way too much noise bothering you throughout the encounter and have you waiting for the “supposedly” right signals.
And this is one of the major differences in an Indian man’s game. He has no plan. Don’t believe me, look at the Indian infrastructure. We do first, plan later. A famous quote from an Indian businessman, Ratan Tata will elucidate my argument-

“I don’t believe in taking the right decisions.. I take decisions and then try to make them right..” So always believe in your ability and efforts… ”

Here’s what you can learn from that old chestnut. Go out there without a plan, a clear head so to speak and just be yourself. If your funny, be that funny man. Oh, and by the way, women love a guy who can make them laugh their way into bed.

How would you do this? Simple. Think spontaneous, go-with-the-flow, making something absolutely boring exciting and paying close attention to her mood. Let’s say, you pick her up at 7:30 for a dinner and movie. Quite routine, ordinary or run of the mill. Right? Imagine, going bowling the same night (because you paid attention when her mood was clearly not in for Titanic 3D for the 5th time). Or ever seen stars in movies pull up at the airport and book tickets to the first plane that leaves. That!

If you’re not the adventurous sort, taking simpler steps will give you the confidence to do something novel later. To effectively pull of the (no-plan-plan) is to listen very carefully of all the things she has on the bucket list. Like, if she doesn’t like texting, drop in at her place, call her by the large mango tree (for the sake of argument, she has a large tree at the edge of her lawn) and hold her hand, look into her eyes (like a 5 year old boy who’s just discovered dad’s secret porn stash) evade being caught by her dad and maybe even sneak up to her bedroom.

One particular incident I can recollect from my past will elucidate this concept. So, there we were, a bunch of girls and boys, having a pizza and one of the girls started horsing around with me over a slice of pizza. To everyone’s shock and dismay, one thing led to another and we ended up bathing each other with soda that night in clear view of the staff, bystanders, other customers and our remainder friends at the pizza joint. We laughed and people raved about the incident for years. It was random, spontaneous and ballsy because even she didn’t expect anything non-gentlemen like (which men in her life had overdosed her on).

Secondly, women like a guy with balls, the sort who believes in something. It could be anything. As long as the conviction is there she’ll believe you. With our rich heritage and culture, Indian men have a lot going for themselves. Usually, if used in the right dose, it can win over the most difficult girls.

Further perpetuated and personified by our ancestors, grandparents and then the relatives. India, up till now, in large parts is still a land of big families. And a religious boy or the domesticated sort are a favourite with Indian girls (the next tip elaborates a bit on this). She sees you as rooted, God fearing and someone who can shift into several demanding gears that may require for you to juggle kids, her parents and then the household help while negotiating a a business deal with hard-nosed businessman over the phone.

For example. In order for me to explain this concept I will share the most common misbelief amongst men. The bigger his pocket (the more money) or the guy with the bigger car gets more girls. I say rubbish. I’d say most rich boys don’t try to hard because they let their money speak. This, after a couple of months, becomes mundane and boring. She prefers a guy who can speak his mind rather than his wallet. Look at all the artists, musicians, writers (awkward cough*) sporting girls in their arms. You’ll find these girls lost in the eyes of the dreamer.
Thirdly, master the art of perseverance. Most of us give up or retreat, in fear, at an early stage. Women, especially in India, play hard-to-get even if they’re not a 10 or 7.5. The other half fall under the conservative-conventional shell of the Indian society (I don’t speak with strangers or go out sort).

But, I believe (without dabbling into generalization) men are solely to blame for this radical behaviour (it’s the she smiled so I will take her to bed mentality). This not only inflated estrogen balloons but cemented the belief that all men want to get into some pants.

Cut long story short, you could be a player but chances are rejection is on the menu. You must learn to take it slowly and, dare I say this but it bloody well works out here, take the “friendship” route if all else fails. This way one can’t be intimidating the other and it opens up a door to know the person better. But be careful in how you tread on this double edged path (try only rimming the well without actually falling in if you know what I mean).

One tried and tested model that seems to work like a charm 99% of the time under the art of perseverance is flipping the ecosystem. It’s been mastered/perpetuated and thrown around year after year by Bollywood (the Indian Hollywood, duh!). Allow me to explain and break this mystical and magical model in easy, consumable and doable steps.

Let’s say you know a girl from school who also happens to live next door (sort of like an American Pie situation). Now, pay attention closely because it gets a bit tricky here. Get her parents, her friends, her dog, her relatives to fall in love with you. This will make the soil fertile and the ecosystem ripe for you to step in and make the move. In other words, all the “influencers” in her life will vouch for you. Play your cards right and she’ll be the one making the first move.

In conclusion, here’s where I can leave you with a quick recap. Remember to drop the plan and be spontaneous (the do first and make sense later approach), be the versatile social monkey abled to handle all flocks of society in one merry-go-round (without flinching) and mastering the art of perseverance and flipping her ecosystem in your favour should seal the deal (it sort of reminds of that movie “How to lose a guy in 10 days” when McConaughey takes Hudson home). Hmmm…

Published originally on GQ.

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GQ SYNG

Trip to the dentist

Senior Designer, Brand Designer, Experience Designer, Art Director, Creative Director, Branding, Brand Consultant, Brand Strategy, Brand Architecture, Brand Engagement, Brand Experience Design, Graphic Designer, Web Designer, Freelance Designer, Freelance Graphic Designer, Freelance Web Designer, Packaging Designer, Poster Design, Album Cover Design, Branded Environment Design, Environmental Graphics, Signage & Wayfinding, Logo Design, Brandmark, Brand Identity, Brand Driver, Brand Positioning, Naming, Verbal Branding, Visual Driver, Brand Guidelines, Book Cover Design, Editorial Design, Lookbook Design, Communication Design, Copywriter, Blogger, Brand Design Studio, Toronto, Downtown Toronto, New York, New York City, NYC, TDOT, GQ

A few days ago I found myself lying down on a rather swanky chair in a dentist’s office. Nope, it wasn’t a root canal but a perspective client seeking some brand restructuring. In these, first-off meetings I like the getting-to-know-the-client-better by stepping into my nosey 12-year-old self with 21 questions routine. To your surprise, the clients quite fancy my enthusiasm.

Alright, an hour into this meeting, I have had my stats pulled up on 42’ LCD, had a sweet foot massage (by getting into one of those overtly priced sofas) and had my x-rays taken just for kicks.

Even though I dread the chair, this was quite a pleasurable experience so far with little clue of what was going to hit me next. As we were about to call it a day, the door to the cabin opened and in came, along with a blast of cool air from the AC, a gorgeous bombshell with long black hair, sharp features, and boy was she tall (6ft give or take), sporting a business suit, juggling a handbag and some files in one hand with the other on the knob.

I hid my boner like a man and climbed off the chair and grabbed my laptop bag. She exchanged words with the doctor. Apparently, she was a consulting dentist as well as (I’m guessing a part-time Penthouse centerfold) but I wouldn’t take the later too seriously for now.

While I stood there with my jaw hanging, boner intact (hid carefully behind my bag) the doctor was kind enough to introduce us both. Although I had undressed her to a black bikini, she looked no less in a suit.

We shook hands and all I could I think off was being spanked like a naughty boy on the swanky lemon green chair behind me. She oozed power and loads of sex. Or maybe thats testosterone talking or my dick but I was alive. The equivalent to how I felt would be running naked in a packed stadium.

Without revealing much (or further making a fool of myself), I walked out the door leaving the two behind. I had only walked a few yards and my phone rang. I so wanted to pause with an excuse and this was my ticket. I paused in the hallway (in play), and it was another client. The conversation pursued while I had my eyes nailed to the doctor’s door, waiting for this lady dentist who had blown my mind to step out. I felt that behind my perverse thoughts, there was something far more beautiful, a connection.

Bang! She stepped out and caught me red-handed staring down at her from across the hall. For a moment, I had goosebumps on my back for the fact that it reminded me of my days in school when I could barely make eye contact with girls.

A three-second eye contact and I looked away (right from the players handbook), continued to walk out towards the parking lot. My car was awaiting my return but my client was still on call. I couldn’t help but pause by an SUV (it reminded me of one I had just like it) and appreciate it, while at the same time, I was hoping to catch a glimpse of the girl one more time.

There I was, standing between my other car and this incredible SUV. I could see her walk out the main entrance and walk right up to this SUV and plonk all her stuff on the bonnet. She continued to fiddle while I was on call.

From the corner of my eye, I could sense something in the air, by looking at her nose deep into her bag. I cut the call and walked up to her and blurted the most obvious, “Is this your car?”. Turns out, it was her boyfriends and we had loads to talk about. She wanted me in the cafe (in the hospital lobby) and I didn’t want to come off as desperate weirdo.

She persisted I get a ride in her car for old time’s sake and we could exchange numbers. On this request, I couldn’t help but quietly sneak the keys of my car into my pocket and story up how my friend dropped me off and didn’t show up.

We exchanged numbers and got into the SUV. This was even way hotter than I had previously imagined. Girls behind big wheels have this uncanny ability to make some men extremely horny. While she drove at a steady pace, I couldn’t help but thinking on how wild it would be to park the car and throw yourself on each other and make wild passionate love on the massive back seat.

To that, I only looked out the window and continued to talk about how she fancied creative people. To my surprise, we had this common thirst for art (and maybe wild sex but she didn’t mention anything of it). We reached my office and we shared this awkward, should we hug or shake hands before I’m thrown out of the car moment. I behaved and threw in a handshake/high-five. She left and I sneaked back to the hospital, with a friend, to pick up my car.

A week later, I called her up on the offer but the tables had turned. I’m guessing she stumbled upon my blog (brandished on the back of my business card which I exchanged during our meeting from the parking lot) or her better half got the best of her. She no longer wanted to have that coffee or make wild-passionate-love in the backseat of an SUV or in other words, go for a drive.

I guess this was one fantasy never meant to become reality. Sigh.

Published originally on GQ.