Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Toblerone Revisited
One of my assignments was to find three great examples of art direction, these could include examples of great packaging. I already had two great examples in the bag, so I just figured I could easily find something in the school library on the way to class. Of course, Murphy's Law being what it is, that did not work out and I was hustling to class with a pretty lame third example in my camera.
Because "the city is our campus" (read: the Academy has a proliferation of buildings scattered about the city rather than one central locus), I passed a convenience store on the way to class. After weighing my options, I decided I could perhaps find an iconic piece of packaging in this way station purveyor of cheap goods and make it to class maybe only five minutes late.
After some frantic scanning, I settled on a bottle of Vitamin Water (I would rely on my silver tongue to pull me through on this one) and then I spotted it: a display of Toblerone Dark.
I smiled at the fond memories of BYU it ellicited. For those of you who knew me then, you may know that I always carried with me a bar of Toblerone. I used it the way most ravers use E. I relied on its dark, rich complex sweetness to intensify and enrich a moment of delight and transcendence, or in a time of fatigue or gloom I would use its transportive powers to lift my spirits.
Toblerone was my gateway to appreciating all gustatorial experiences dark and bitter.
I had to grab a bar. I thought perhaps I could expound on its iconic irregular shape and pleasing, dark-toned packaging.
I didn't use it for my presentation. But I did have two pieces in class and am now on my third.
It wasn't quite as magical as I remember, but you know what? I think it's still my favorite chocolate. It still has that wonderful smoothness with dark, earthy undertones, managing to be very sweet without being frivolous, getting to very essence of what chocolate is about without a bunch of milk fillers or wax or funny berry additives.
And give it the right space of quiet and appreciation and it can still transport you.
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