In retrospect, Daft was always destined to be a wordsmith of sorts. His high school buddies benevolently bestowed upon him the moniker “Webster” for his lavish lexicon and love of language (not a resemblance to the diminutive eighties TV show character).
Daft has always dreamed of opening a marina called Port Manteau, and he never metonym he didn’t like. Daft’s various vocational ventures have helped shape his offbeat approach to branding, having held honorifics such as disc jockey, accountant, security guard, corporate strategist and physician (a scary thought).
While most folks conceptualize their brain wiring as inevitably hanging a hard right or left, Daft envisions his neural circuitry as more of a roundabout (sans the centrally-located Arc de Triomphe). This self-perceived blessing — curse? — ultimately compelled him to seek out Alexandra and her merry band of branders.
Other than his ostensibly obvious love for names and taglines, Daft’s idiosyncratic indulgences include ginger/blueberry kombucha, nineties hip-hop, solid crew neck t-shirts, zucchini pasta, digital audio workstations, pinot noir and small-sided soccer.
Above all else though, Daft enjoys his home persona of “Dad Pun,” which affords him the opportunity to teach his two children the finer points of reading, writing and mastering the spinner on Chutes and Ladders.