Brand Essay - July 2026
You know it when you feel it.
You know it when you feel it.
You know it when you feel it.
On signatures, recognition and what makes something unmistakably itself.
Some brands are instantly recognisable. And often, it has surprisingly little to do with their logo.
The sound of a car door closing. The few notes before a film begins. A movement, a material, a ritual so familiar we barely notice it.
Take it away, and we do.
We have always been fascinated by what creates this kind of recognition. Because we don't experience brands in brand guidelines. We experience them in life. We touch them, hear them, use them, unwrap them, wear them in.
Somewhere between recognition and experience lies what we think of as a brand's signature.
Think of the sound of Netflix beginning. The ritual of shaking a Polaroid photograph. The satisfying weight and sound of a Mercedes-Benz G-Class door closing.
None of these things is a logo. And yet each can tell us exactly where we are.
Some brands are instantly recognisable. And often, it has surprisingly little to do with their logo.
The sound of a car door closing. The few notes before a film begins. A movement, a material, a ritual so familiar we barely notice it.
Take it away, and we do.We have always been fascinated by what creates this kind of recognition. Because we don't experience brands in brand guidelines. We experience them in life. We touch them, hear them, use them, unwrap them, wear them in.
Somewhere between recognition and experience lies what we think of as a brand's signature.
Think of the sound of Netflix beginning. The ritual of shaking a Polaroid photograph. The satisfying weight and sound of a Mercedes-Benz G-Class door closing.
None of these things is a logo. And yet each can tell us exactly where we are.
More than recognition
More than recognition
More than recognition
Branding has become exceptionally good at creating systems of recognition. Colours are defined. Typefaces selected. Photography codified. Tone of voice documented.
There is enormous value in that.
But consistency and distinctiveness are not quite the same thing.
A company can follow its guidelines perfectly and still stop feeling like itself. Another can change dramatically while retaining something that makes us think, almost instinctively:
Of course they would do it like that.
That difference interests us.
A signature is the recognisable pattern beneath the things a brand does. It might live in how a product behaves, how a service unfolds, in a sound, a gesture or a material. In what a company consistently chooses to do — and, sometimes more revealingly, what it refuses to do.
Branding has become exceptionally good at creating systems of recognition. Colours are defined. Typefaces selected. Photography codified. Tone of voice documented.
There is enormous value in that.
But consistency and distinctiveness are not quite the same thing.
A company can follow its guidelines perfectly and still stop feeling like itself. Another can change dramatically while retaining something that makes us think, almost instinctively:
Of course they would do it like that.
That difference interests us.
A signature is the recognisable pattern beneath the things a brand does. It might live in how a product behaves, how a service unfolds, in a sound, a gesture or a material. In what a company consistently chooses to do — and, sometimes more revealingly, what it refuses to do.
The strange power
of repetition
The strange power
of repetition
The strange power
of repetition
Signatures grow through repetition.
A first interaction may simply be pleasant. Repeated over time, it becomes familiar. And sometimes that familiarity becomes something more: a small ritual we anticipate, recognise and even enjoy performing.
Opening an Apple product is an obvious example. Removing something from a box is entirely functional. But when materials, resistance, pacing and anticipation are considered together and repeated over years, opening the box becomes part of the product itself.
But repetition alone does not create a signature.
For repetition to become distinctive, it has to carry meaning — a belief, a promise, a particular attitude towards quality, ease, pleasure or performance.
You can repeat almost anything.
You cannot make it meaningful simply by deciding that it should be.
Signatures grow through repetition.
A first interaction may simply be pleasant. Repeated over time, it becomes familiar. And sometimes that familiarity becomes something more: a small ritual we anticipate, recognise and even enjoy performing.
Opening an Apple product is an obvious example. Removing something from a box is entirely functional. But when materials, resistance, pacing and anticipation are considered together and repeated over years, opening the box becomes part of the product itself.
But repetition alone does not create a signature.
For repetition to become distinctive, it has to carry meaning — a belief, a promise, a particular attitude towards quality, ease, pleasure or performance.
You can repeat almost anything.
You cannot make it meaningful simply by deciding that it should be.
Sometimes, the user finishes the work
Sometimes, the user finishes the work
Sometimes, the user finishes the work
And this is where signatures become particularly interesting: brands do not have complete control over them.
A company can design an experience, protect it, refine it and repeat it. But eventually, something may happen that no brand guideline can prescribe:
people make it their own.
The Polaroid shake became more than a way of using a product. It became part of our cultural memory of the brand.
At that point, meaning no longer belongs entirely to the company.
Brands can curate.
People decide what they care about.
Culture decides what survives.
Which raises a difficult question.
And this is where signatures become particularly interesting: brands do not have complete control over them.
A company can design an experience, protect it, refine it and repeat it. But eventually, something may happen that no brand guideline can prescribe:
people make it their own.
The Polaroid shake became more than a way of using a product. It became part of our cultural memory of the brand.
At that point, meaning no longer belongs entirely to the company.
Brands can curate.
People decide what they care about.
Culture decides what survives.
Which raises a difficult question.
What happens when a brand needs to change?
New technology arrives. Expectations shift. New competitors appear. A new generation takes over. Products evolve. Categories blur. What once felt contemporary begins to feel nostalgic — and what once created distinction can slowly become convention.
The instinctive response is to ask:
What needs to change? It is an important question.
But perhaps it shouldn't be the first one.
Perhaps the first question is: What must remain true?
Not what must remain the same.
Keeping everything the same is preservation.
Understanding what must remain true creates freedom.
A brand that understands its signature can change its expression without losing itself. It can enter new categories, adopt new technologies, speak to new generations and rethink old assumptions because it understands the deeper pattern connecting yesterday to tomorrow.
Without that understanding, transformation becomes much more fragile.
Perhaps that is the paradox of moving forward: before deciding what should change, it helps to know what must remain true.
New technology arrives. Expectations shift. New competitors appear. A new generation takes over. Products evolve. Categories blur. What once felt contemporary begins to feel nostalgic — and what once created distinction can slowly become convention.
The instinctive response is to ask:
What needs to change? It is an important question.
But perhaps it shouldn't be the first one.
Perhaps the first question is: What must remain true?
Not what must remain the same.
Keeping everything the same is preservation.
Understanding what must remain true creates freedom.
A brand that understands its signature can change its expression without losing itself. It can enter new categories, adopt new technologies, speak to new generations and rethink old assumptions because it understands the deeper pattern connecting yesterday to tomorrow.
Without that understanding, transformation becomes much more fragile.
Perhaps that is the paradox of moving forward: before deciding what should change, it helps to know what must remain true.