My 15 Year Lesson
How chasing beautiful brands nearly ruined me (and what actually matters)
I never meant to become a designer.
Hell, I didn't even know what design was when I started.
Picture this - I was a broke uni student, desperately scrolling job boards, willing to take anything that paid. Then I spotted it: "Junior Sales Exec at Web Design Agency."
I had zero clue what exactly web design meant. But they were hiring, and I needed money.
So there I was, 20 years old, walking into the dodgiest little web agency you could imagine. Trying to convince business owners they needed a new website.
The pitch was simple:
"Your site looks outdated. We'll make it beautiful."
Their response? Always the same.
"Look, our site isn't amazing, but it works. Making it prettier doesn't really matter for us…"
I was baffled. How did they not get it? These sites looked like they were built in 1995. Surely everyone could see how much better our designs were?
But sale after sale, I kept hitting the same wall. The majority just didn't care.
Meanwhile, I found myself spending more and more time watching the designers. Way more than I should have.
I was fascinated. Watching them take a blank canvas and turn it into something beautiful felt like magic.
Eventually, I moved to another agency. New place, new sales role. Same frustrations. Most still didn't care about design the way I was learning to.
So I decided to figure it out myself. Became a project manager. Taught myself design. Finally started designing commercially.
It felt incredible. I loved the craft. The details. Seeing something come alive on the screen.
But I discovered something that many know but no one talks about - some clients care about design. Most don't.
And that's not actually the problem.
The real problem is how most people (me included, back then) think about this. We get frustrated. We blame “uneducated clients” or “short-sighted stakeholders.” So we retreat into echo chambers, creating pretty things to impress each other.
We do it for our egos, not for real impact.
We chase awards, obsess over pixels, get that dopamine hit when someone likes our work. But we're solving the wrong problem.
I got so tired of it I was ready to burn it all down. I was pissed off. Properly pissed off.
Here I was, spending my days designing apps and websites that looked beautiful, but I couldn't tell you why it really mattered. Tweaking interfaces no one would remember. Creating "experiences" that, deep down, felt empty.
I'd wake up, open my laptop, and think:
"Today I'll make something slightly prettier... so exciting…"
It was meaningless. Soul-crushingly meaningless.
So I said fuck it. I jumped into a totally different business, trying to fix a completely different problem. Anything but this shallow, ego-driven design circus I'd trapped myself in.
The startup? Dog walking. Yep, we tried picking up dog poop at scale... with an app. Wish I was joking.
It failed spectacularly.
But here's what happened - I was both the client and the design lead. I spent countless hours polishing the brand and app. Making sure everything looked beautiful.
And guess what? I still lost.
I was on the losing side. I became exactly the kind of client I used to roll my eyes at. The one chasing pretty, thinking that would be enough.
It wasn't. Because pretty doesn't pay the bills. Pretty doesn't carve out a space no one else can own.
It's not about your personal style, or your taste. You're not an artist. You're a coach.
Your job is to understand the game, figure out the strengths of the team you've got, and pull the right moves to get as close as possible to winning.
Sometimes that means making something beautiful. Other times it means making something harsh, ugly, risky, or polarizing. Whatever it takes to carve out a space nobody else can own. So people feel your brand in a way they'll never feel a competitor.
The rest of it (your creativity, your natural taste, your "style," your base knowledge about what's right and wrong) is just table stakes. The underlying game is about position, strategy, and how you make the brand uncomparable.
Look at Liquid Death. They're not selling hydration. They're selling a middle finger to the wellness industry.
Slack isn't about chatting faster. It's about feeling less busy.
Tesla didn't sell "eco." They sold sexy.
They all picked fights no one else could fight. They made themselves uncomparable.
So what's this really about for any founder, marketer, or team trying to build something that lasts?
Three things:
Carve out a position competitors can't take.
Tell a story people want to be part of.
Create emotional real estate so they remember you.
The companies that get this don't just have design teams making things prettier.
They have strategy teams that happen to think visually.
They know every pixel, every interaction, every message is a choice about who they are. And who they're absolutely not.
So ask yourself:
What’s your story that no one else can tell?
What do people feel with you that they don’t feel anywhere else?
And trust me - everyone has their thing.
You just need to dig deep enough to find it.
The lesson: design isn't craft. It's 99% strategy.