Blame Roman Mars. The radio producer and host of the design-focused podcast 99% Invisible did a TED Talk on city flags that crystallized my thinking on one of this city’s most persistent interior problems: our under-formed civic identity. (See Mars’ talk here. I’ll wait.) We know what the world thinks of Las Vegas, know what words they use to describe us—gambling, drinking, indiscretion, excess, Elvis—and we also know, in our hearts, that they don’t begin to sum up what we are. That’s part of the reason why we freak out whenever we read national articles on Vegas that insinuate we live in hotels, perpetuating the illusion we sell to outsiders.
But Mars’ flag talk illuminates another problem: We seem uncertain of how to describe Las Vegas to ourselves. Last year, the City of Las Vegas created a welcome sign for Downtown at the intersection of Las Vegas Boulevard and Main Street—a multidimensional, Instagram-friendly installation comprised of oversized dice and poker chips, a midcentury text treatment of the city’s name and two elongated, cartoony showgirls.
It’s a striking piece of wayfinding, and tourists seem to like it. But it feels wrong for the city core, home to some of our Valley’s oldest neighborhoods, to our Arts and Innovation Districts and to Fremont Street, which I don’t think has hosted a showgirl revue in years. (The sign’s showgirls are most likely intended to represent the models who accompany Oscar Goodman to public appearances.) It’s a sign made for tourist Vegas, which would be fine if local Vegas didn’t need one, too.
And yeah, about the flags. Thanks to Mars, I now know that there are five criteria for the proverbial Good Flag: “Keep it simple” (a child should be able to draw it); “Use meaningful symbolism” (a Maple leaf, 50 stars); “Use two or three colors” from the standard color set; “No lettering or seals” (which are all but illegible at a distance); and “Be distinctive or be related” (don’t copy others, unless you’re trying to show a connection to another entity). The Las Vegas, Clark County and Henderson all fall short by these standards. Mars calls them “SOBs: Seals on a bedsheet.” (I like Henderson’s flag best, whose Latin motto “Flamma Industriae” could be the title of a King Gizzard LP.)
Mars goes on to talk about what a good city flag can do. The flags of Chicago and Amsterdam have “total buy-in” from locals, he says; they’re flown by businesses, worn by locals on T-shirts, even draped over the coffins of fallen first responders. The only thing Vegas has like that is the Vegas Golden Knights’ “helmet” logo, which I own in several forms even though I’ve never attended a single game. I feel good about the insignia (especially when it’s tweaked into Boba Fett’s helmet). But also, it makes me feel better about living in Las Vegas whenever I see it displayed. It’s an emblem of shared pride.
We need new flags for our cities and county. They can be created by a denizen of our Arts District, perhaps, or by someone in our commercial art sector. But make no mistake: Those new designs have to be about us, the people who live and work in this Valley. No showgirls. No dice. Just a simple, meaningful design that’ll look great on flagpoles, bumper stickers and enamel pins. Something kinda like—and I saved this for the end, for maximum effect—Reno’s gorgeous new city flag, which it adopted last year. Reno is a full step ahead of us in figuring out who it is. Let that sink in.
