I follow an Instagram account called @delahuntagram, which regularly features creative work that ranges from clever to strange to the sort of thing that makes you wonder how someone’s brain arrived there in the first place.

Naturally, I love it.

One of the things that recently caught my attention was a matchbox designed to look like a container of McDonald’s French fries. Pull it open and the matches themselves become the fries, little red-tipped sticks lined up inside their familiar red container.

It was completely unnecessary.

It was also adorable.

I saved it somewhere in that vast digital filing cabinet where we put things we enjoy and will probably never think about again.

Except this one came back to me.

I was in Miami for the weekend and went to Delilah, a restaurant that seems to have asked what would happen if old Hollywood moved to Miami, acquired excellent lighting and decided subtlety was overrated.

The place is gorgeous. Art Deco curves, rich textures, palms, flattering shadows and enough atmosphere to make you feel mildly underdressed regardless of what you are wearing. There are restaurants you enter primarily to eat, and there are restaurants where dinner feels like only one component of the evening. Delilah is very much the latter.

Then I opened the cocktail menu.

This is where I encountered the Millionaire Martini.

Price: $125.

I did not order the Millionaire Martini.

I did, however, spend an unreasonable amount of time thinking about what a $125 martini would need to accomplish in order for me to feel satisfied with the transaction. At minimum, I think it should arrive with financial advice.

And perhaps this is why what happened next amused me so much.

Sitting there among all that deliberate extravagance, I noticed a matchbox.

It was clever.

Immediately, I thought of that McDonald’s fry matchbox I had seen online. Here was the same basic creative instinct in the wild: take an object so ordinary that most people barely register its existence and make it interesting enough that someone picks it up.

So I did.

I opened it. I examined it. I showed it to everyone.

And, yes, eventually it came home with me.

There is something wonderfully funny about walking into a restaurant where a single cocktail costs $125 and leaving most delighted by an object that was sitting on the table for free.

It also made me think about how we remember places.

We assume it will be the grand gesture. The expensive item. The dramatic room. The thing specifically designed to command our attention. Sometimes it is.

Other times, it is a matchbox.

The smallest details can carry an astonishing amount of personality. Someone had to think about that matchbox. Someone had to decide that even this tiny, utilitarian object deserved to participate in the experience of the restaurant.

That is good design, certainly. It is also good branding, although calling it branding almost makes the whole thing sound less fun.

Mostly, it is evidence that creativity has no minimum required surface area.

A few square inches will do.

And now a matchbox is sitting in my house in New Jersey, reminding me of a night in Miami.

The Millionaire Martini cannot say the same.

Although, for $125, perhaps they let you keep the glass.