Sunday, 18 September 2011


A bit of background first: JB actually are my initials.  J for Janet, a name I was never too fond of, carrying with it a whiff of school dinner ladies or golf club wives.  As a child surrounded by Sarahs, Emmas and Nicolas, I felt my name stood out (and not in a good way).  Now I quite like the fact that no-one else between the ages of 0 and 45 shares my name.  B for Brown, my surname, a name so dull and workaday it makes me yawn. 

jbistheinitial has been my online persona for years after it became a nickname of sorts.  When I was in my late teens I worked at a rock/indie club in Leicester (then called Alcatraz).  Around this time American hop hop duo The Jungle Brothers released a track which featured the repeated refrain of "JB is the initial...".  After one play by the DJ on my birthday it became my anthem, often played by other DJ friends when I arrived at a club or bar.  I have to say, after years of disliking my name, having my initials turned into something to herald my arrival (in fact, having my arrival being something that was worth heralding at all) felt pretty good.

All of which is a looooong way of explaining my username.  And also of explaining why my house is a veritable riot of Js and Bs, such as this mug I found in Anthropologie in New Orleans, and was convinced would be in pieces by the time I came home a month later.  That it survived intact in my rucksack is a miracle.  That it cost only $6 is even more of a miracle, Anthropologie goods being only slightly less expensive than pure gold.

Or this intricate metalwork J that I picked up in Urban Outfitters in Seattle, and which hangs on my landing.

My love for typography is well documented here, but my Js and Bs are particularly special.  Because JB is the initial...

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