Tiffany And Co Quotes

You have always been my only muse. I cannot paint or sculpt. I have only my words to render your likeness. Sometimes I wish I were both God and Adam so I could tear out my rib and create you from my own flesh. I would say I’d create you from my heart, but I gave that to you when you left me. But that’s a cliché, isn’t it? Sadly, that’s all I have these days. The whole story is a cliché. I desired you. I ate of you. I lost you. That ancient story – older than the Garden, old as the Snake. I would have liked to call this story of ours The Temptation but the word temptation, once the province of pious theologians, has now been co-opted by every third second-rate romance novelist. And although I loved you, my beautiful girl, this is not a romance novel.

It was incredible to see how ordinary individuals act once they cross the porthole from the streets into Tiffany & Co. They instantly transform from giggling, loud-mouthed college girls, griping old biddies and tired middle-aged errand shoppers into genteel cousins to aristocracy.

Pan, The House of Bernarda Alba, Transform Caithness: Hunter, Be Near Me, Nobody Will Ever Forgive Us, The Bacchae (also Lincoln Center), Elizabeth Gordon Quinn, Home: Glasgow, and Black Watch, which toured internationally and for which he won Olivier and Critics’ Circle awards. He was Associate Director of the Traverse Theatre from 1996 to 2001, Paines Plough from 2001 to 2005, the National Theatre of Scotland from 2005 to 2012, and was a Radcliffe Fellow at Harvard University in the 2010–2011 academic year. JACK THORNE writes for theater, film, television, and radio. His theater credits include Hope and Let the Right One In, both directed by John Tiffany, Junkyard, a Headlong, Rose Theatre Kingston, Bristol Old Vic & Theatr Clwyd co-production, The Solid Life of Sugar Water for the Graeae Theatre Company and the National Theatre,

For an illustration of business drift, rational and opportunistic business drift, take the following. Coca-Cola began as a pharmaceutical product. Tiffany & Co., the fancy jewelry store company, started life as a stationery store. The last two examples are close, perhaps, but consider next: Raytheon, which made the first missile guidance system, was a refrigerator maker (one of the founders was no other than Vannevar Bush, who conceived the teleological linear model of science we saw earlier; go figure). Now, worse: Nokia, who used to be the top mobile phone maker, began as a paper mill (at some stage they were into rubber shoes). DuPont, now famous for Teflon nonstick cooking pans, Corian countertops, and the durable fabric Kevlar, actually started out as an explosives company. Avon, the cosmetics company, started out in door-to-door book sales. And, the strangest of all, Oneida Silversmiths was a community religious cult but for regulatory reasons they needed to use as cover a joint stock company.

They are looking for a shortcut. Information, more time, easy payments, or something else. PayPal, lawn mowing, TripAdvisor. They want to feel more connected to the group, to belong. Instagram, live events, Startup weekend, book clubs. It works. Think Dropbox, WordPress, Amazon, FedEx. It makes their lives easier. Fruit smoothies, online groceries, Thermomix. It gives them a story to tell. A Tiffany & Co. bracelet, dinner at Jamie’s Italian restaurant, Christian Louboutin red-soled shoes. They need a solution to a problem. Online dating, personal training, gluten-free bread. It helps them get from where they are to where they want to be. Gym membership, consulting services, design. They like what you stand for. Whole Foods Markets, Method cleaning products, Patagonia outdoor wear. Their friends are doing it, too. Facebook, dinner at a new restaurant, Jägerbomb cocktails. This is why great brands become a part of the customer’s story, and customers in turn help to shape the brand’s story.

Business was booming for Tiffany & Co. in the late 1990s, thanks to the introduction of a new affordable silver jewellery line. The $110 silver charm bracelet inscribed with the Tiffany name was coveted by teenage girls, causing sales of the new silver product line to skyrocket 67% between 1997 and 2002. By 2003, company earnings had doubled and the silver jewellery line accounted for a third of Tiffany’s U.S. sales. And yet the queues of excited girls didn’t fill the store managers with joy. Sure, sales were up and stores were busy, but the people close to the brand, who understood its heritage, began to worry that this lower price point would forever change how the brand was perceived by its high-end customers. “We didn’t want the brand to be defined by any single product.” —Michael Kowalski, CEO, Tiffany & Co. Despite some unease from investors, Tiffany raised prices on their most popular silver products by 30% over the next three years and managed to halt the growth of their highly profitable silver line. And so the company sacrificed short-term gain and profits for the long-term good of the brand by telling the story they wanted customers to believe—that Tiffany’s represents something special. A client recently told me about her friend’s excited engagement announcement on Facebook. All she did was post a photo of the Tiffany blue box—not a picture of the ring in sight. The box alone was enough to say everything she wanted to say. QUESTIONS FOR YOU How are you least like the competition?

Pussy-Men Take your ugly crocs and birkenstocks Your overpadded Thor-lo socks Your safe SPF 50 cosmetic blocks Your zero carbon cars and solar clocks Your dumb plans to save the arctic fox Your UTNE Reader and eco-stocks and FUCK OFF! I can't breathe, I need some air.. I'm bored to death, I've gotta switch To a real man who pulls my hair Who make me come and calls me bitch. P.S. And fuck your overpriced Co-op Farmer's Market too. Produce is half-price at HEB without the snotty 'I'm an artisan' attitude. For God sakes, their fucking avocados, not the Czar's Tiffany eggs.

John Deco became the basis of our marketing campaign. We decided to throw John Deco a homecoming party as our launch event. We invited a lot of brokers for food and drinks, and gave out fancy gifts from Tiffany & Co. and Hermès, making sure everyone knew that both of those stores were located right in the area. See what a great neighborhood this is!? Now people were talking about the building. Suddenly, instead of calling the building 99 John, brokers started referring to it as “the John Deco building.” It was no longer just a bunch of units being converted into condos—now everyone knew about the building’s rich history because we had created a story to showcase it to potential buyers. We got our first three offers the next day.

Como ilustração das mudanças de direção nos rumos tomados pelos negócios, uma guinada racional e oportunista, tenha em mente o seguinte exemplo: a Coca-Cola começou como um produto farmacêutico. A Tiffany & Co., chiquérrima empresa do ramo de comércio de joias, foi fundada como loja de artigos de papelaria. Os dois exemplos talvez sejam próximos, mas veja este: a Raytheon, que criou o primeiro sistema de orientação de mísseis, era uma fabricante de geladeiras (um de seus fundadores foi ninguém menos que Vannevar Bush, que concebeu o modelo linear teleológico de ciência que vimos anteriormente; vai entender!). Agora, pior: a Nokia, que costumava ser a maior fabricante mundial de telefones celulares, começou como uma fábrica de papel (em algum momento, dedicou-se à produção de sapatos de borracha). A DuPont, empresa hoje famosa por suas panelas antiaderentes de teflon, bancadas de cozinha de corian e o resistente tecido kevlar, no início era uma fabricante de explosivos. A Avon, empresa de cosméticos, começou vendendo livros de porta em porta. E, a mais estranha de todas, a Oneida Silversmiths, fabricante de artigos de prata, era um culto comunitário religioso, mas, por motivos de regulamentação legal, precisou usar como disfarce o modelo de sociedade anônima.

Na wspomnienie o Traklu Amalfitano, prowadząc swój wykład niemal automatycznie, pomyślał o aptece nieopodal jego mieszkania w Barcelonie, do której zwykle chodził, kiedy potrzebował lekarstwa dla Rosy. Pracował w niej farmacueta wyglądający na nastolatka, nadzwyczaj chudy i w wielkich okularach, który nocami, kiedy apteka pełniła dyżur, zawsze czytał książkę. Pewnej nocy Amalfitano zapytał go, czuł bowiem, że powinien coś powiedzieć, podczas gdy farmaceuta szukał leków na półkach, jakie książki lubi i jaką książkę czyta w tej chwili. Farmaceuta odpowiedział mu, nawet się nie odwracając, że podobały mu się książki typu "Przemiana", "Bartleby", "Proste serce", "Opowieść wigilijna". A potem powiedział, że czyta teraz "Śniadanie u Tiffany'ego", Capotego. Pomijając "Proste serce" i "Opowieść wigilijną", które, jak powszechnie wiadomo, są opowiadaniami, a nie książkami, intrygujące było owo upodobanie młodego farmaceuty - który być może w swoim poprzednim życiu był Traklem, a być może w tym życiu miał napisać wiersze smutniejsze jeszcze niż te, które wyszły spod pióra jego dalekiego austriackiego kolegi - przedkładającego, ponad wszelką wątpliwość, dzieła mniejsze nad dzieła większe. Wybierał "Przemianę" zamiast "Procesu", wybierał "Bartleby'ego" zamiast "Moby Dicka", wybierał "Proste serce" zamiast "Bouvarda i Pecucheta", "Opowieść wigilijną" zamiast "Opowieści o dwóch miastach" albo "Klubu Pickwicka". Jakiż to smutny paradoks, pomyślał Amalfitano. Już nawet oświeceni farmaceuci nie mają odwagi siegnąć po wielkie dzieła, niedoskonałe, gwałtowne, te, które otwierają drogę w nieznane. Wybierają doskonałe wprawki wielkich mistrzów. Albo, by powiedzieć innymi słowy to samo: chcą widzieć wielkich mistrzów podczas szermierczych sesji treningowych, ale nie obchodzą ich prawdziwe batalie, gdzie wielcy mistrzowie walczą z czymś, z tym czymś, co przeraża nas wszystkich, czymś, co nas paraliżuje i bierze za rogi, i jest krew, i śmiertelne rany, i smród.