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belly wine bar + charcuterie
from the crew that brought you the blue room and central bottle
open sunday–wednesday 5–11pm, thursday–saturday 5–12am
one kendall square, cambridge, ma 02139 (down the steps to the blue room and turn left)
belly is walk-in only except for the arm + a leg dinner—reserve today
When I was pregnant with my son the first thing my husband wanted to do was name him (go technology! We knew we were having a boy), and so not a week later did we settle on a beautiful name we both loved. What joy! What fun! But little did I know this was all to a selfish end that my lovely other half had failed to mention. He wanted to work on a logo for our little guy — yes a logo, and it didn’t end there. He registered for an iCloud email address and settled on a witty Twitter handle. Oh darling, what the F? Eye roll.
Much to my dismay, I realized he is just like most new parents in that we want to embroider our new baby’s name on everything (beer koozies, really?), or, in extreme cases, create logos. We’re searching to find that identity so early. We think maybe we’ll try such-and-such brand to be like the skinny pretty-smelling lady with strangely awesome hair, or we only watch Pixar animated movies with our children because they’re funny and intelligent.
We’re brand-driven in so many everyday aspects of our life. Take the Guess jeans upside down triangle with the question mark in the center. Whoa. That was the sign of cool in the mid-’80s, right? I begged my parents for a pair of jeans with that stupid triangle. A triangle on my a**? Didn’t I know it was just going to make it look bigger?!
My point: we’re brainwashed by logos. We believe in the brand. We’re sheeple!