Influenced: Roav Sunglasses in Review

Like many, I’m a sucker for targeted advertisements. This is the first (and possibly only) in a series of online item reviews that were influenced directly by online marketing channels. Each item was purchased without prior experience or exposure.

Channel: Instagram Ad

Product: Roav Sunglasses

Overall Satisfaction: 5/5

I lose sunglasses. For years my primary source of eye protection were knockoff-style Wayfarers either picked up at a convenience store or as swag from a tech office I photographed. One of two things happened to each of these glasses.

1. They didn’t fit and were discarded in favor of squinting in the sun.

2. They were comfortable enough but broke or were lost near immediately.

When I began to adopt a more buy-it-for-life mentality, I settled on a pair of the ubiquitous Ray-Ban Wayfarers. However, from experience I knew that if they weren’t small enough to fit in my pocket, I would absolutely leave them behind on a photo set or in a restaurant. So these weren’t any Ray-Bans, but a foldable pair that sat snug in a 2x2x1.5” case. I thought these were the endgame. They looked okay, and if I ditched the carry case I could drop them into my pant’s pocket when walking around town. Then Instagram prodded me with Roav’s targeted ads. These frames purported to collapse no thicker or wider than a pair of credit cards. Not only were they advertised as pocketable, but durable and fashionable as well. The tagline at the time was “Most Packable Sunglasses Ever.” I was sold.

My pair of Roav Baltos have traveled with me daily since the end of March, and have yet to fail. The all-stainless construction is wafer-thin, which raised durability concerns. But they have held up well for six months. The Baltos fit my face better than the folding Wayfarers, and because they are so compact, they actually go with me everywhere. The included rubberized case ensures they are not scratched in my pocket, and I wear them every day I have contacts in.

That said, a few things to note. By design the Roavs don’t have the thicker frame construction of traditional sunglasses, so they do have a unique look that may not appeal to all. More important, this design doesn’t allow the glasses to wrap around your face, so light can still slip through the tops and the sides of the frame. These are simply minor caveats from me, but could be a deal-breaker for someone else.

In this instance, Instagram’s targeted campaign definitely converted me, and this item has added small but consistent value to my life.

Time and concentric orbits

A fresh reply to a dead and buried email thread hit my inbox. The Subject line: “Harvard Yard Pics.” The original message marked as delivered on August 11, 2013.  

Maddie F. reached out to me from the past as she and her partner, Michael, had recently gotten engaged at a contra dance festival. She outlined how I had taken a photo of them in Harvard Yard and they wanted to know if I would be willing to take formal engagement pictures of them.  

My head; entirely cobwebs.  What the hell was I doing in Harvard Square in August of 2013? That was a year in which my local editorial work really took off, and I worked regularly around Cambridge, primarily as the principal photographer for the “Scout” series of hyper local magazines.  

2013

I dug further into the threaded messages.  A couple lying on a lawn blanket in the Yard.  A tousled haired guy working on a Macbook and a red-haired woman in a sundress reading alongside him.  I recalled snapping a few posed-candid shots of them quickly as part of a monthly “Around town” feature for the Cambridge magazine. 

2019

Those were my free weekends.  I’d recruit a pal or two to wander around town to bar hop. Drinking interspersed with pauses to take photos of anybody that looked interesting.  A systematic method of obliteration and editorial. The next morning, often while nursing a bloody mary at a favored brunch joint, I retraced the previous night’s steps through photographs.  On this day in 2013, I took 187 frames, and at 1:30 AM had burst into a 24-7 laundry mat to photograph the vagabond frontman for the west coast I’m-not-sure-if-they’re-fucking-with-me band, the Wet Chins.  

My initial response to Maddie reflected the maw of depression that can threaten to envelope me. Silence. Maddie reached out again.  “Your pictures are famous amongst our family. Are you still around Boston?”

It was the impetus I needed.  I fired a response back. Assuming the coerced-cheeriness that slips on like a mask when working with clients, I let them know that I no longer photograph full-time, but was excited to chat and possibly provide a referral if I proved the wrong fit.    

Cut to last week.  I parked next to my now-wife’s former apartment on Hanson Street.  Upon meeting with Maddie and Michael, we do tequila shots at Dali, then take off on a quick tour of Somerville before chasing sunlight into Harvard Yard.  

Collaborating with folks like Maddie and Michael is the lifeblood that I too often stray from.  It was an absolute thrill to spend time with these two remarkable humans, and I’m very grateful that we were able to share this experience together.  I frequently lose the thread of my past, and how it’s relevant to today. These two reminded me of the importance, and I am eager to work and create with more folks soon.