Siman is a sign you can read from across the room. A ring, a band, and people know you're open to meeting someone. One tap with a phone and they know what you're looking for.
One evening, a hundred people, half of them single. Nobody knows who is who. So you don't make the move, you ask a friend, you circle the room, and you go home. The problem was never the lack of people. It's the lack of information.
A visible position on the ring says you're open. It reads from across the room, no phone, nothing to ask anyone.
They hold their phone to it. Your profile opens. No app to install, not for you, not for them.
The hard part was knowing. The rest is your business, and you keep a record of who scanned you.
You choose what the world sees, and it changes with one gesture depending on where you are.
First name, age, what you're looking for, your Instagram. Nothing else.
Your company, your role, what you're after, LinkedIn. The same object becomes your business card.
The default. Nothing shows, nothing is known. You decide when you light up.
Siman doesn't know where you are and never will. The place is the evening you're at, nothing more.
No last name, no number, no employer on the personal profile. You give the rest yourself, if you feel like it.
You see who scanned you. Nobody else sees who scans you.
One press and the link is dead. Immediately, with no explanation owed to anyone.
We're starting in Paris, across a few evenings. Leave your contact and we'll tell you about the first one.
We'll reach out before the first evening.