The olfactory assault that was Ranch One on the corner of 7th Avenue and 28th Street was suprisingly gone this morning.
In its place, a piece of urban archeology.
The Baron of Grill is so parsimonious he didn't even remove the previous signage before putting up his own.
If this were shiny box new, I probably wouldn't look at it twice. Now, the beaten-up-smog-stained type has appeal. It has life, ironically, even though its been mummified for years and will soon be torn down.
And speaking of signage -what's the deal with The Baron of Grill?
Here's what the sign used to look like at 7th and 28th (amazingly this was on this guy's Flickr account)
Remember the first time you saw The Baron? I sure do. He was a four foot stand-up cut out beckoning hungry office workers in for lunch on the 49th Street end of Rockefeller Center.
A hilarious mash of blotchy black lines, ill-defined shapes, nonsensical shadows, poor typography -oh, and most importantly shades. You can't have a good animal mascot without sunglasses. Especially magical sunglasses that have no visible means of support.
Sun pince-nez.
In color, it looks like he's wearing a yellow letterman's sweater -like he's the captain of a 1930s Ivy League football squad.
He's a baron, so he's got culottes. Goes with the pince-nez.
And he holding some sort of tricorner hat. Maybe he should be the Marquis of Grill.
Most importantly, the Baron is ushering people into Ranch 1. Ranch 1 specializes in chicken. Feeding chicken to people.
So here is this rooster selling his sisters, wife, and daughters as mass marketed fast food.
I'll miss you a little, Baron. Even though I wouldn't even consider your store as a place where I could get food. Even though I gagged a little at the stench when the door opened. You were a reminder of the perverse genius of marketing -how something which looks so wrong can actually be so wrong.
No comments:
Post a Comment