By Julie KonyndykIn the summer of 2009, my family took a little vacation. With my wedding only weeks away, and my Dad still searching for work since being let go earlier that spring, we needed the rest. We spent the week soaking up some sunshine and strolling along the quaint little town of Grand Haven, Michigan. Somewhere in between sandy sunscreen and ice cream on the boardwalk, an idea was born. My parents, both life-long book lovers and English major alumni, dreamed up the notion of starting a small, charming, trendy bookstore in downtown Georgetown, my hometown. Oh, what fun that would be! It started off of as a silly way of passing the time, an unattainable goal that was nice to think about, but too unfeasible to actually attempt. I mean, come one, did anyone
really believe that
little speech George Clooney gave to that 50-something man in
Up on the Air?
And so, with a chuckle and an “only in dreams” attitude, we spent the last few days of our vacation crafting this dream venture, just for fun.
The more we talked about it, the better it sounded. They would give out free coffee to their customers. They would sell quality giftware to compliment their massive collection of used books. They would set up shop downtown, and Dad could walk to work everyday. Not only did it seem like the perfect fit for my book-loving parents, it began to sound like a strong business case as well. However, when we returned home from vacation, the dream was shelved for a little while. My parents didn’t want to tell anyone, because it didn’t seem within reach quite yet.
Then the book-buying began. I still remember when they came home with their first box of books. One box turned to ten, ten to a hundred. Mom began to tell her friends. Dad began to research the technical software he would need to catalogue ten thousand books. And it was rightfully assumed that I, the graphic-designing daughter, would take care of the logo and brand-identity.
I still remember the first time my parents told me to get cracking on some concepts. My stomach flopped, because it meant it was
really happening. The dream was slowly becoming a reality. My parents used up every spare minute to go “booking” (scouring the province for the best in used-books). They used up every square inch in their home to house their findings. And while the other sisters may be able to provide different insights into the year that built the bookstore, I thought I’d provide a behind-the-scenes look into the development of their visual identity. This was the most pivotal role I played in building what would eventually become White Rabbit Books.
While some people insist there is no way to work with your family and survive, I couldn’t have asked for better clients. Conveniently enough, I inherited almost all of their aesthetic tastes. They told me point blank what they liked, and what they didn’t, always articulating their reasons. My earliest efforts were generic and lifeless - I didn’t quite grasp what the bookstore was about. Oh, sure, I used pretty fonts and cups of coffee. But my parents were dead-on when they said the first version looked more like a pretty teahouse.
But the closer the bookstore came to completion, the easier it was to capture its spirit in a logo.
Two major factors were finalized before the brand began to take shape – the name and location of the store. After much brainstorming, the family finally landed on White Rabbit Books. Why White Rabbit Books? Many reasons. Perhaps the best one harkens back to where it all began. You see, in the college years, Mom and dad frequented a pub called The White Rabbit, once located in Grand Rapid's historic
Wealthy District. Apparently it was quite the happenin' and cozy place to grab a beer and laugh and gab with friends long into the night. “White Rabbit” won out over earlier names because it was also the perfect nod to many other rabbit references in literature--from
Alice in Wonderland to
Peter Rabbit to
Watership Down to
Run Rabbit Run. The list goes on and on. Additionally, although the Konyndyk family name doesn't mean "white rabbit" in Dutch, it does mean "bunny on a hill" (seriously, it's true).
While all that history might seem like a bit of a tangent to the average book-buyer, it was absolutely essential in building the brand. Once we had the name, I knew the logo needed to be classic, comforting, and at the same time hip. My mom brought home a lovely little stature of a wise-looking rabbit, and it’s from a sketch of that statue that I crafted what would soon become their icon. You’ll see the first version of the white rabbit was touch too modern. The store found a home beautiful old building, built in 1836, so the first attempt was at odds with the tone of the space. The second rework of the rabbit was a touch
too old. It’s a used bookstore with old treasures galore, but its largest category is modern fiction. White Rabbit Books is both classic and funky, so the final logo needed to be somewhere in between.
I took an editing eye to the first two versions, and landed on the perfect fit – nothing cutesy, nothing dated. Just crisp, clean, and cozy.
From there the rest of the brand just fell in to place. I selected two timeless serif typefaces for the additional materials (see
here and
here), and some weathered textures to give the collateral some dimension. I also discovered that the famous
Alice in Wonderland sketches by Sir John Tenniel were public domain, so I used them some of the materials to tie back to the literary connotations of a white rabbit. The last addition was a pop of green behind the logo and throughout the brand. The green gives the brand a contemporary twist, and allows for feature colour to be used on additional signage, tote bags, and merchandise.
It was a joy working on the White Rabbit Books materials. I finally got to combine my two great loves – art and literature. But I’m even more proud of the work my parents have done on the store thus far. It has, quite honestly, surpassed every expectation. It’s a vision come to life, and if you haven’t paid them a visit already, you really should.
Three cheers for the three thing things that brought this brand to life: books, beer, and bunnies.
"You might have noticed that I have been sending you used books. I have done this not to save money, but to make a point which is that a used book, unlike a used car, hasn't lost any of its initial value. A good story rolls of the lot into the hands of its new reader as smoothly as the day it was written. And there's another reason for these used paperbacks that never cost much even when new; I like the idea of holding a book that someone else has held, of eyes running over lines that have already seen the light of other eyes. That, in one image, is the community of readers, is the communion of literature."
