Last Saturday, the advertising industry's annual ritual took place in Zurich's freight station: the awarding of the ADC dice. The food was excellent, the atmosphere was lively, the show was professional - and the ADC newspaper was funny. Just as it should be for a club that calls itself ADC. The ranking of the award-winning agencies is (practically) unchanged: Ruf Lanz ahead of Jung von Matt, Spillmann/Felser/Leo Burnett, Wirz and Advico Y&R. Life in its most repetitive form.
Without irony: if there was a collective singapore rcs data feeling of happiness, it would be at the ADC festival. Paulo Coelho would have to cry. And - and Markus Ruf has rightly stated this - the weeks before the awards ceremony are some of the most horrific for any creative person. The question of the meaning of life: "Are we in? Will we win a dice? And if not - is this the pre-programmed path to absolute nothingness?" The special thing: Only advertisers can really judge good advertising.
At least that's what advertisers think. In contrast to literature and music, industries in which professional critics who are not capable of writing a book or composing a piece judge the work of their exponents. It goes even further: Only ADC advertisers are actually entitled to judge good advertising. This self-image is - and this is without irony - great. And that it works: a true miracle! And that it works so well: an even greater one. So three cheers for our advertisers, the ADC and other creative outpourings! But, woe betide us: let's just hope that no Thomas Minder comes along and demands that the public have a say. Because really good advertising - and last Saturday proved this - is actually made primarily for advertisers.