Simone Stafford
When I was 7 my mom took me to see G.I Jane in theaters—questionable parenting—afterwards I made her take me to the barbers so I could shave my head like Demi Moore. I sat in that chair for 30 minutes while she she begged me not to. I caved. It’s maybe the biggest regret of my life, especially since I walked out of there with a bob.
I have a problem where I only acknowledge dogs walking down the street, and not the actual humans at the other end of the leash. I know, it’s bad—I’m working on it.
I want to make an ad that gives someone goosebumps and makes them get that painful throat-lump that we get when something unearths a gem hidden deep, deep inside of our soul.