Why Branding Bullsh*t Never Dies.

What brand designers, unsuspecting clients, and design influencers gain from branding bullsh*t.

For anyone new here, I’m the founder of Woo Punch, a brand consultancy rooted in evidence-based brand design. I write about the evidence that debunks brand purpose, differentiation, brand love, loyalty marketing, customer personas, color psychology, mission statements, customer engagement, AdTech, and “hustle culture.”

Want to chat about your brand? Schedule a free intro call.

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My Awakening: From Branding Dogma to Evidence-Based Design

For years, I was a devout follower of every branding gospel: color psychology, "differentiate or die," brand purpose, mission and vision statements, brand personality, brand attributes, customer personas, hyper-targeting, "brand love," tribes, neuromarketing, Implicit Association Testing—you name it, I believed it.

My journey into design began far more simply. As a kid, I filled sketchbooks with logos for imaginary movie studios and skateboard brands, despite never owning a skateboard. Design wasn't a career; it was a creative escape. I initially pursued a film degree, leading me to a role as Media Director at a Catholic nonprofit, handling video production from start to finish.

My dormant interest in design reignited when I proposed a cost-saving idea: I could learn design in-house, saving the organization tens of thousands on outsourcing. They agreed. That’s when I discovered The Futur, a design education platform that, unlike others, didn't feel stuck in the past. I immersed myself in their courses, and within a year, I was designing everything.

My first real branding project arrived: a new online tool, unburdened by legacy, offering a chance for truly meaningful work. I loved every moment, yet self-doubt crept in. I returned to The Futur, devouring every branding course they offered. That’s where the "brand strategy"* bug truly bit me.

Months later, I left my job to launch my own design business. I cobbled together an 8-hour "brand strategy workshop" based on The Futur’s content—just enough to land my first major client. I wasn't an expert, but I could convincingly fake it. And it worked. The client adored the brand I created; we even became friends. Back then, I'd have confidently declared I'd "set them up with their ideal customer." If the clients had kept coming, I might never have questioned it. But they didn’t. When business slowed, so did my conviction.

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*It's now clear to me that The Futur's brand strategy courses are not actual brand strategy, but rather a form of “brand strategy theater.”

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My Wake-Up Call: Rewiring My Brain

During Lent¹ 2020, I took a break from social media. What began as 40 days stretched into three years. Without the daily cacophony of branding influencers, I finally found the mental space to truly explore.

That’s when I stumbled upon Daryl Weber’s Brand Seduction at my local library. Weber’s questioning of whether a brand could truly be distilled into neat lists of attributes or a “brand onion” resonated deeply. It opened the door to science-based branding. From Weber, I moved to Robert Heath’s Seducing the Subconscious, then Daniel Kahneman’s Thinking, Fast and Slow. The pivotal moment arrived with a brief YouTube book review by Stef Hamerlinck² of the Let's Talk Branding podcast. He introduced me to Byron Sharp’s How Brands Grow and Jenni Romaniuk’s Building Distinctive Brand Assets—books that completely rewired my understanding of branding.

Suddenly, everything clicked. Behavioral economics, advertising psychology, marketing effectiveness—they fit together like pieces of a puzzle. More importantly, they mirrored my own actual buying habits, once I honestly admitted them to myself.

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The Cognitive Biases Fueling Branding Bullshit

This isn’t just my story. It’s a common cycle many designers experience. Branding myths are alluring; they offer shortcuts, a sense of identity, and a ready-made business model. I was fortunate enough to have the time and space to question everything. Most designers don't, which is one reason why these myths persist.

Many designers feel intense pressure: platforms like Fiverr and 99Designs, logo contests, and AI all threaten to commodify their work. It’s hard to convince clients that design is more than decoration. For many, “brand strategy” becomes the escape hatch—an opportunity to rebrand themselves as something more essential.

Online courses promise a fast track to legitimacy. They offer frameworks, buzzwords, and client-ready language that makes strategy feel accessible. Armed with this new vocabulary, designers begin layering in pop psychology—color theory, brand archetypes, Simon Sinek’s Golden Circle—anything that sounds impressive and can be sold as strategic thinking.

These ideas feel true, not because they’re supported by evidence, but because they exploit how our minds are wired. The result is a self-reinforcing system: one that flatters, confirms, and rewards belief over skepticism.

Here are some of the most common biases keeping it in place:

The Halo Effect

Assuming expertise in one area applies to another.

Because The Futur's technical design resources were excellent, I uncritically trusted their brand strategy views. It’s easy to assume expertise in one domain extends across all.

This dynamic is everywhere now. Some designers build credibility through real creative skill, then pivot into brand strategy. Others were never strong designers to begin with, but managed to launch successful agencies—often buoyed by luck, word of mouth, or raw sales ability. Now they sell courses on how to build an agency yourself, despite having no real experience beyond their own isolated success. In both cases, the halo effect leads designers to mistake charisma and popularity for expertise. As a result, branding bullshit often passes as credible advice—not because it’s grounded in evidence or tested insight, but because it’s delivered by someone who excelled in a different domain.

Questionable Cause Fallacy

Mistaking correlation for causation.

Consider color psychology: We're told blue conveys trust, and indeed, many banks are blue. But blue banks didn't succeed because they were blue. Their success stemmed from a myriad other factors: scale, service, pricing. Plenty of successful banks aren't blue—Wells Fargo (red/gold), HSBC (red/white), Ally (purple)—and they face no trust issues.

The same applies to fast food: Red is supposedly appetite-stimulating, yet Subway (green/yellow) and Taco Bell (purple) are household names. Culver's, with its unwavering blue and white, has radically distinguished itself as one of the fastest-growing chains. Color isn’t a magic growth key; it’s simply a design choice. It works when it’s distinctive, not when it adheres to clichés.

Brand archetypes also fall prey to this fallacy. Just because successful brands can be retrofitted with archetypes doesn’t mean those archetypes caused their success. Nike isn’t winning because it channels "The Hero"—athletes are inherently heroic; that’s the category, not the brand. Any athletic brand selling to athletes could be perceived as "heroic." "The Hero" isn't a unique driver of success. Harley-Davidson isn't "The Rebel"—motorcycle culture itself is rebellious. The brand simply reflects the category’s identity. If archetypes were truly salient, all market leaders would adopt them. Yet, many of the world’s biggest brands—Samsung, Toyota, Colgate—don’t align with any clear archetype. Most brands credited with an archetype never even discussed the idea internally. Archetypes aren't strategic drivers; they’re retroactive labels applied to successful brands. That's storytelling, not causation.

Simon Sinek’s Start With Why champions the idea that brands flourish by leading with a higher purpose. Designers incorporate his "Golden Circles" to identify "ideal customers." This approach creates brands that quickly become obsolete by chasing trends or generational stereotypes. The fundamental issue is that Sinek’s ideas are flawed. We project purpose onto successful brands because they are big. Once successful, their story becomes mythologized. We reverse-engineer a "why" where none existed. As

Nick Asbury

rightly points out, Sinek’s own examples didn’t even “start with why.” Sinek’s theory doesn’t explain success; it romanticizes it.

Anchoring

Clinging to first ideas or sources encountered.

Most designers first learn from the same influencers pushing consumer “identification” with brands: Chris Do, Marty Neumeier, Seth Godin. These voices are popular and compelling, making them incredibly difficult to question. Meanwhile, less flashy but more evidence-based thinkers like Byron Sharp, Daniel Kahneman, and Robert Heath remain relatively unknown in design circles, despite their far greater contributions.

Confirmation Bias

Seeing only what supports your current beliefs.

We actively seek out and interpret information that confirms our existing beliefs, while ignoring contradictory evidence. Branding influencers cherry-pick success stories—often their own—while conveniently overlooking counterexamples. They hold up Apple to "prove" "differentiate or die," but ignore Samsung, which dominates without a clear brand personality. They celebrate Patagonia’s famous brand purpose, dismissing Columbia’s greater success without one. Designers do the same, admiring brands they like while ignoring those they habitually buy. Few "identify with" Kraft, Toyota, or Bic, yet these are undeniable market leaders.

Survivorship Bias

Focusing on winners, ignoring the failed majority.

For every successful “challenger brand” or “disruptor,” innumerable others attempted the exact same approach and faltered. Millions of businesses launch annually; half fail within five years. Most likely adopted the same branding myths. Success stories don’t prove the theory; they are the exceptions. We cannot look to the outliers as the norm for growth.

Bandwagon Effect

Believing something because others do.

Challenging branding orthodoxy can feel incredibly isolating. I often find myself clashing with fellow designers deeply invested in these myths. It’s difficult to find community when you’re poking holes in their livelihoods. And clients buy into these myths too. When your perspective contradicts the gurus they trust, it's harder for them to trust you.

I’ve literally been told, after critiquing Seth Godin, that he “can’t be wrong if he’s that popular.” Ironically, among experienced marketers and researchers, almost no one buys what Seth Godin is selling.

This is where the bandwagon effect can bleed into groupthink. Bandwagon behavior is about following popular ideas to fit in. Groupthink goes further: it happens when you’re surrounded only by people who share the same ideas—so you stop realizing those ideas are even up for debate. If you don’t know people outside your circle, you don’t realize that what feels like common sense inside the group is often dismissed—or even laughed at—by people outside it. There’s a reason Fortune 500 companies rarely hire the Seth Godin’s, Chris Do’s, and Gary Vee’s of the world to work on significant projects.

Sunk Cost Fallacy

Sticking with bad ideas due to past investment.

We stubbornly adhere to bad ideas simply because we’ve already invested significant time, effort, or money into them. Many designers have built entire careers on branding myths. Some now educate other designers on these very same flawed ideas. Once you’ve built an audience or business around a belief, changing course isn’t just hard—it’s financially costly. The incentives reward staying the course, not questioning it.

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Design for Memory, Not Meaning

Branding bullshit endures because it flatters the intellect. It gives designers a sandbox of strategy-speak and aesthetic perfectionism to play in. But in the pursuit of the “perfect” identity, they often forget the one thing that actually matters: being remembered.

Not consciously admired. Subconsciously remembered.

The truth is, great branding isn’t born from overthinking or theory. It’s not the result of mapping ten archetypes to a mood board or crafting a 60-page brand guide no one reads. It’s built on something far simpler—and far more powerful: radical distinctiveness and timelessness. Instantly recognizable, unmistakably yours, impossible to ignore.

That’s what cuts through. That’s what sticks.

Breaking free from the noise isn’t easy. It means resisting the pressure to intellectualize everything. It means letting go of the idea that branding is about crafting meaning, and instead realizing it’s about imprinting memory.

But once you do, you start to see it clearly: branding isn’t a strategy workshop. It’s a handful of visual and verbal cues, repeated until they burn themselves into people’s minds. Simple. Distinct. Timeless. Not a tangle of buzzwords wrapped in shiny packaging—but something built to last.

1. Lent is a 40-day period when Catholics—and some other Christians—deepen their connection to Jesus through prayer, fasting, and almsgiving.

2. A year later, I reached out to Stef, appeared on his podcast, and became close friends. My wife and I even visited his family in Belgium.

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For more thoughts on brand design, advertising, and marketing, you can find me on LinkedIn.

Want to chat about your brand? Schedule a free intro call.

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