Let’s get the apologia out of the way first. The London Street Brasserie in Reading is one of my favourite restaurants. Full stop. The service and food has always been impeccable, and I have never walked away from the place feeling less than deeply satisfied. I can recommend the place heartily.
Trouble is, I’m not here to review the restaurant. I’m here to show you the advertising hoarding that’s just gone up on my route into work for the place. Now, let me ask a simple question. Would you be more or less likely to go to the London Street Brasserie if all you had to go on was the recommendation offered by this piece of advertising gold?
What the hell happened? If the mood the photographer and agency were after was “friendly and welcoming”, then they mis-stepped the mark by a pratfall and a half. The feeling I get when looking at this poster is “she’s about to drop the glass, crawl out of the hoarding and chew my bloody face off!”
Now, I’m prepared to accept that maybe the photo was taken on a bad day. Maybe that’s not a professional model up there, but a member of staff (in which case, my heart really goes out to her) who got caught in a poor pose. But that’s no excuse for a shot like that to make it through the editorial process, get printed up at great cost and put up as an image representative of the restaurant.
That, Readership, is an image representative of a Z-Grade cannibal horror movie. I’m sorry to have to share it with you. But I have to see it every frickin’ day. And it’s starting to get to me.
The London Street Brasserie Girl is in my dreams now.