Coming in for a logo, leaving with a mirror
He came in for “a new logo.”
At least, that’s what he called it.
A fresh look, a more modern typeface, something a bit more timeless if possible. He smiled the way people smile when they say the stress “isn’t that bad.”
Only once the coffee is on the table do you notice what’s really going on.
It’s not the logo that’s tired. The whole brand is exhausted.
You know the pattern. Years ago they started with a clear idea and a first, slightly clumsy logo that mostly stood for courage, not perfection. Then growth. Extra services. Another location. Another target group. “Quickly” a new visual identity. A few more texts pasted on the website.
And somewhere between all those choices and compromises, the core turned into soft clay.
But at the table, it’s called:
“It just needs to feel a bit fresher.”
The studio as a therapy room
On paper, we’re “designers.” We develop logos, colour palettes, typography. In practice, a good brand session feels much more like an intake with a therapist.
There’s no sofa, but the posture is the same: leaning back slightly, arms folded, a joke to break the tension. And then these little lines:
“We actually do a bit of everything.”
“Our clients are very diverse.”
“We don’t really want to exclude anyone.”
It sounds professional, but usually it means: somewhere along the way we forgot why we started this in the first place.
So you start asking questions that don’t seem to be about design at all.
When did your company last feel truly like *you*?
Which clients drain your energy, but you don’t dare to let go?
What do you say in a 1-on-1 conversation that never shows up on your website?
People shuffle in their chairs. There’s laughter. Sometimes there’s a pause.
That’s when it becomes clear: they walked in with a folder full of logos, but no story.
Restyling as a new haircut
Many brands have gone through several restylings. Every new logo was like a fresh haircut at the hairdresser: feels nice for a moment, but nothing inside really changes.
The old payoff swapped for something “stronger.” A different colour because it’s “more current.” A new batch of photos because last year’s already feels outdated.
A cosmetic carousel: the visuals change, the restlessness stays.
From a distance it looks like a house that’s redecorated every couple of years while the foundation is cracking. New chairs, different lamp, fresh paint… but the floor is still crooked.
That’s the moment a branding project stops being styling and slowly turns into therapy.
When honesty finally shows up
As the conversation goes on, the tone shifts. The entrepreneur is no longer “a client who wants a logo,” but someone wondering where things started to slip.
You hear lines like:
“If I’m honest, we have clients I actually don’t want anymore.”
“Our competitors don’t look great visually, but they are fully booked.”
“We say everywhere that we’re personal, but sometimes I reply to emails three days late.”
That’s exactly where the brand DNA we need is hiding.
Not in the logo variations. Not in the trendy colour. But in the tension between who you say you are and how you behave.
At that point, branding is no longer about whether the title should be set at 24 or 28 points.
It’s about this:
Do you dare to say “no” to projects that pull you off course?
Do you dare to admit that you’re not “for everyone”?
Do you dare to fill your website with the language you actually use in a real conversation?
Only when those answers are on the table does it make sense to reach for the sketchbook.
Reprogramming brand DNA
On paper, it all sounds clinical: refining brand DNA, optimising positioning, restructuring visual identity. In the room, it feels messier and more human.
You fish up old beliefs that have been hiding under the table for years.
“Our clients aren’t waiting for this.”
“In our industry, you just don’t do that.”
“We’re not really the type for big words.”
You hold them up to the light and notice that some of them mostly get in the way now.
Then you replace them with new, more honest statements.
We focus on this kind of client, and we let the rest go.
We choose quality, even if that means less volume.
We want our communication to feel like a good conversation at the table.
And *then* the question becomes: what does that look like?
When design becomes a reminder
From that moment on, design shifts. It’s no longer a box of tricks, but a translation. A new identity stops being a mask and becomes a reminder.
A high-end look forces you to keep making high-end choices.
A playful tone of voice instantly punctures safe, generic jargon.
A clear brand structure makes it obvious when you’re “just quickly adding something” that doesn’t really belong there.
The visual identity starts interfering, helpfully, with behaviour.
Every time you see your own logo, it reminds you which version of yourself you chose.
More than a new colour
By the end of a trajectory, someone often says:
“It feels like we didn’t just get a new style, but also remembered why we’re doing this.”
That’s when you know: this wasn’t a logo job. This was creative therapy disguised as a branding project.
With moodboards instead of diagnoses.
With sessions where you have to laugh and swallow hard at the same time.
With an outcome you don’t just see in your branding, but also in your calendar: different clients, different conversations, different choices.
Sure, it could have been just a new colour.
But if you walk in with a folder full of logos and a brand that’s out of breath, it’s a waste to only freshen up the surface.
The soul is already on the table.
You might as well take her seriously.
