| I’m at one of those popular pizza places in the West Village. There’s a long line. I’ve never been a fan of waiting for food. I still have flashbacks from when I waited 3.5 hours for three soft tacos in Austin, Texas. But the Instagram influencer told me this place was fire. So waiting I will. I finally get to the front of the line after about a half hour. I order way too many slices. The tiny building is jam packed. There’s no place to sit. My pizza comes out. I grab my tray and find a little spot on the counter where I have to stand and eat. Here comes the first one… Poached pear with cheese. Interesting combo. Sweet and savory. It’s… pretty good. I like it. Did it live up to the hype I had in my head? No. But I scarf down the rest anyway and move along. Now I’m walking the streets again. I walk into this fragrance place (I love scents). I look at the price tag… “$300 for one scented candle?!” No thanks. Now I’m back on the streets. I spot this coffee table book shop. I think to myself… “I bet those books are also expensive as hell and people just put them on their coffee table for show.” I don’t bother going in. Later on that night I’m drinking cocktails at the hotel bar. I get hungry again. Back to the streets. I notice a tiny Italian place without any line. I walk right in. People greet me like they’ve been expecting me the whole time. Nowww we’re talking… I notice the moody orange light. The crowd having chill, down-to-earth conversations. Just what I’m looking for. Is the food good? Who cares at this point (just don’t poison me). I find this happens a lot when I travel, and when I’m writing for business founders. The stuff that performs best is often the more mundane, but really fitting to the personality of the founder. It’s their “warm Italian place.” That doesn’t mean it’s boring. For example, if a founder is a kind soul who also happens to talk like a mafia hitman, that’s something I can’t ignore. So I write his emails soft but with a little menace. I dial it up a notch. And his people love it. Same thing with the Italian spot I went to. It was a fulfilling moment in an otherwise surface-level weekend. I’ll remember that. And I’m sure I’ll be going back there again when I’m in town. So write to your audience in a way that feels like your hole-in-the-wall Italian place. They won’t remember the trendy pizza places. They’ll remember you making them feel like they were meant to be there. Until next time. P.S. Hooks are the front door to your Italian place. If they sound like everybody else’s, they won’t work. So I’m running a “Electric YouTube Hooks” workshop to help you write in your voice, so the right people stick around and get interested in what you have to sell. It starts in just 3 days. You can sign up for free here. |
Tales of surface-level pleasure in New York City
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