J’en ai mar de toi, Comic Sans
I love visiting Paris. I’ve just returned from my third trip there, and it still astounds me on how much I learn with each visit. Truth be told, the number one reason I go is because of the food–let’s face it, the French have some serious gastronomic game. But the other reasons are less gluttonous. There’s something to be said about a culture that seems to care about how things are presented. Whether it’s their language, fashion, or architecture, how things are communicated spoke a lot about the care they put into their craft–even to outsiders like myself.
Just look at the entrances to their metros:
So it came as a little bit of a shock that I noticed an eerie typographical invasion on many a Parisian storefront. Yes folks, the dreaded Comic Sans–my arch nemesis.
Almost every other block had Comic Sans represented. Now maybe I was blinded by my previous trips to the seeming newness of Paris to my virgin eyes. I’m sure Comic Sans was always there, like a latent infection. I think I even remember seeing them on labels of little jars of jams. But on this trip, their presence seemed a little…loud. And proud. Maybe there’s a sense of irony there? Maybe they think it’s funny, that this type doesn’t even represent the quality inside their stores?
And when I returned home, I had this to cure any lingering typographical hard feelings:
I’m still a fan, Paris.