PowerBreak was new, innovative, and groundbreaking.
Print products, put simply, are not.
Rather, as I have come to find out, they are a chasm of expense – $20,000 a month. And that’s just for product creation – the writing, photography, paper, publishing, distribution … which says nothing of sales and marketing.
But it will reach the audience we want to reach – those so deeply entrenched in these muddy, monied river banks that their back teeth are, on one hand, floating by the river’s edge, but on the other, chomping at the bit to be part of it.
Which is why there was only one name I could conceive that captured Middle Valley’s ego-centricity in one fell swoop.
“Vanity.“
Jazz hands aside, I could see in Lindy’s eyes that this would be a hard sell.
“Like Vanity Fair?” Lindy asked. “Come on, don’t you think that’s been done? This isn’t New York. I mean, we certainly have a social … something … you know, system about us. I mean, Bitsy and Cassie may cross paths every week, but …”
I nodded. “Right, I get it, but it needs to speak to those sort of ‘inside’ that stratosphere while at the same time speak to those who want to be there … it’s aspirational!“
Lindy lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, dazed by his surroundings and the din of the yacht staff preparing the kitchen for dinner. Having this meeting on the boat, on such a glorious and sunny winter afternoon with heaters blazing around us on the port side, was, in retrospect, a horrible idea.
“Look, Carson, I’m on board with reaching a broad audience, you know that … I think something like this could bring the whole town together. I just don’t think that’s the right word. ‘Vanity’ just isn’t appealing … it’s too … high-brow, too bourgeoise for us, you know?”
I was getting the distinct sense that his opinions were not necessarily his own.
“Too bourgeois … ah, okay … ” I said. What I really wanted to say as the deck hand scurried by was Pot, Meet Kettle. “What do you recommend, Lindy, because I’m all ears?”
“Well, talking to Mother the other day …”
BItsy …
Lindy stood as he spoke. “Actually, she wanted to be here but I didn’t make any promises … she’d probably love what you’re saying. I’m not sure ‘accessibility’ is a priority for her.” He lit a fresh cigarette. “I think she rather likes being ‘inaccessible.'”
I laughed. “So she’d agree with me?”
Lindy smirked. “She would, but it’s not her money financing this endeavor, now is it? Much as she’d love to be part of it.”
“She told you that?” I asked.
Lindy nodded. “But you do understand that I cannot be in business with that woman. If that’s where we net out, I’ll move along. It’s not worth my sanity. Nor Mercury’s for that matter.”
“Of course not,” I said, suddenly not present. Bitsy as a full partner?
“So,” I asked. “Where does this leave us? No ‘Vanity‘?”
Lindy shook his head. “No, that’s big-city. What’s small-town for ‘bourgeois’?”
Well, that’s easy, I thought: Bitsy McMurtry.