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Hi, it’s Giles here.
Dave Tomkins is a quiet, unassuming man living in a village in Hampshire, England. If you passed him on the street, you’d never guess that his life was once steeped in danger, deception and covert operations.
Imagine a plan so audacious, so seemingly outlandish, that it involved bombing a prison with a vintage World War II bomber in an attempt to assassinate the world’s most notorious drug lord, Pablo Escobar. This was the world inhabited by Dave Tomkins, whose life reads like a Hollywood thriller.
Today, Dave lives far from the battlefield, but his story is far from ordinary. Captured in the BBC documentary Dogs of War, Tomkins reveals the extraordinary layers beneath the surface of a man many would dismiss as just another face in the crowd. His life as a mercenary is proof that beneath the most ordinary of exteriors, there can lie extraordinary depths of experience and adventure.
But Tomkins' story isn’t just an outlier. It speaks to a broader truth: we often form snap judgments about the people we encounter based on their appearances, never knowing the full story. In reality, every person carries a rich inner world, a tapestry woven from experiences, desires, and often hidden potential.
This is where the psychology of "hidden depths" comes into play—a field that invites us to look beyond the surface and consider what lies beneath. The concept has its roots in early 20th-century psychology, particularly in the work of Sigmund Freud, who famously compared the human mind to an iceberg. Freud's theory suggested that much of our unconscious mind—the emotions, desires, and memories that shape our behaviour—remains hidden beneath the surface of conscious thought.
Today, this idea is further developed in modern psychology, where it emphasizes how much of our identity, motivations, and potential lie outside of our immediate awareness. By looking beyond external appearances and behaviors, we can start to understand the complexities of individuals—what drives them, what they fear, and what they are capable of, often without us even knowing.
This idea of hidden depths is vividly illustrated in Brandon Stanton's Humans of New York, a project that captures the extraordinary lives of seemingly ordinary people. Through his powerful portraits and candid interviews, Stanton uncovers the complex, often surprising stories of individuals living in one of the world's busiest cities. Take Tanqueray, for instance. A homeless woman whose infectious laughter and bright smile defy all the stereotypes associated with homelessness. Tanqueray’s story of addiction, hardship and resilience uncovers layers of strength and spirit that challenge our assumptions about people living on the margins of society.
Through Humans of New York, Stanton shows us that we should never judge a book by its cover. There is always more than meets the eye.
But the concept of hidden depths isn’t confined to extreme stories. In her book The Power of Introverts, Susan Cain explores how society often overlooks the quiet strengths of introverts. While we celebrate the outgoing, charismatic personalities of extroverts, Cain argues that introverts possess their own unique and valuable traits—traits that are often invisible to those who fail to look beyond the surface.
Just like Tomkins’ mercenary past or Tanqueray’s hidden resilience, introverts harbour hidden depths of creativity, empathy and insight. Cain urges us to recognize these strengths, not just as traits, but as essential contributions to the world around us.
The stories of Dave Tomkins, Tanqueray and introverts everywhere remind us of the importance of curiosity and empathy. When we take the time to look beyond the surface, we may just uncover extraordinary lives hidden in plain sight.
Giles Jepson
CGO at BeenThereDoneThat
Further reading:
A note on safety and legality: This article discusses microdosing, which involves psychedelic substances that are illegal in many countries. The following information is purely educational and isn't advocating for any illegal activities.
Hi, it’s Rachel here.
My twenty plus years in marketing and innovation have taught me one fundamental truth: change is hard. Really hard. Whether we're trying to shift consumer behaviour or transform organisations, we keep bumping up against the same stubborn reality - humans resist change.
My fascination with why we fight change so hard has led me down some pretty unexpected paths. Beyond strategic consultancy, I now work as a coach specialising in personal transformation during the “messy middle" of life - that threshold where we often start questioning everything we've built, and wondering what the hell lies beneath our carefully constructed identities.
Most intriguingly, this work has led me to explore how microdosing - taking tiny amounts of psychedelic substances - can support deep personal change.
The worlds of marketing and psychedelics might seem worlds apart. Yet Silicon Valley has long known their value - Steve Jobs famously attributed Apple's creative breakthroughs to his early psychedelic experiences. Today, tech innovators will routinely pop a microdose along with their AG1 smoothie before meditating every morning, seeking the edge that's always separated visionaries from the rest: the ability to spot opportunities that others miss and build the future before anyone else can imagine it.
The latest neuroscience reveals why. Our neural pathways become more fixed with age, our habits more deeply entrenched. This creates a growing challenge for us as marketers as we try to connect with an aging population, and as organisations as we attempt to maintain genuinely innovative thinking.
Psychedelics promote new and unexpected neural connections, linking brain regions that rarely communicate. They enhance divergent thinking - our capacity to make novel connections and see fresh perspectives. In one early study, academics who'd been stuck on complex problems for months found breakthrough solutions after a single supervised session with LSD.
Over the years I’ve discovered 3 key principles about getting the most out of microdosing that are directly applicable to marketing and behaviour change:
- Emotion beats logic. With microdosing, you need to actually feel your intention and why it matters in your body, not just think it. Les Binet and Peter Field are right, as always: in an age of data-driven everything, lasting behaviour change still starts with emotion, not functional propositions.
- Movement accelerates transformation. Microdosing works best with tiny physical practices supporting your intention. The same applies in marketing - every click, like, swipe, or smile creates stronger neural pathways than passive consumption. In a world of endless content, physical engagement matters more than ever.
- Creativity requires pattern disruption. Microdosing shows us that experiencing the world differently requires us to break from our normal routines. Just as those academics found breakthrough solutions through shifted perspectives, innovation emerges when we disrupt our patterns and let different parts of the brain start talking. In an age of AI and automation, this human capacity for unexpected connections becomes even more valuable.
But these insights only scratch the surface. The most profound pattern that psychedelics disrupt isn't in how we think or create - it's in how we see ourselves in relation to the world.
Clinical research reveals something remarkable: people who experience the most profound benefits from higher doses of psychedelics are those who have an experience that dissolves their feeling of being one distinct individual, separate from everyone and everything else.
In these moments, people moved beyond their sense of being an isolated individual to experience deep interconnection - with other people and the natural world. That’s more than a shift in perspective; it’s a direct experience of what indigenous cultures have long known: we’re not separate observers of life, but intrinsically part of its web.
This strikes at the heart of what we do as marketers and innovators. We've built our industry on seeing ourselves as creators and others as consumers. We extract value from attention, from engagement, from resources both human and planetary. This positions us as puppet masters pulling strings from above the system, rather than as participants within it.
But what if instead of extracting value, we reimagined our role as creating it?
Not just making and selling things - we already do that - but building tangible positive change for people and planet through our work. This means stepping down from behind the puppet master's curtain, recognising ourselves as part of the living world, and rethinking our personal and collective responsibility from that place.
For me, this is psychedelics' most valuable lesson: when we shift from seeing ourselves as separate to recognising our place within the system, we can think beyond our narrow role as marketers and start playing a more meaningful part in creating the kind of world we want our great-grandchildren to inherit.
The real pattern disrupt isn't about what marketing can do differently - it's about each of us setting a personal intention about what we’re going to do differently, and allowing ourselves to feel exactly why that matters so much.
Rachel Lawlan
Strategy Consultant and Transformational Coach
Further reading:
Magic Mushrooms. LSD. Ketamine. The Drugs That Power Silicon Valley.
Psychedelic Agents in Creative Problem-Solving: A Pilot Study
In Conversation with Peter Field and Les Binet: Brand building through emotion
Welcome to another episode of "BeenThereDoneThat Where Next?" - a series by BeenThereDoneThat, where our host and co-founder, David Alberts, delves into conversations with industry experts.
In each episode of this series, David poses three questions to his guests:
- What’s the biggest challenge you are facing today?
- In an ideal world, where do you imagine this could go?
- What’s the first step you would take to get us to where we need to be?
Hi, it's BeenThereDoneThat here.
We have been working hard over the last few weeks to create two new videos that showcase both our community and our approach to helping Marketing leaders unlock growth in today's dynamic business landscape. We would like to take the opportunity to share them with you.
Our first video spotlights our extraordinary global network – a carefully curated community of over 400 of some of the world's best strategic and creative talent. People who bring unparalleled expertise from 97 countries and the strategic minds behind some of the world's most successful brands. What makes them truly special is their diverse perspectives, who bring fresh thinking to every challenge.
Our second video delves into our innovative approach to solving modern marketing challenges. The last 10 years have been one of learning, experimenting and relearning to help build a methodology, set of tools and a platform that provides a flexible system to deliver breakthrough thinking at unprecedented speed. Whether clients need instant inspiration, end-to-end project support, or extended team capabilities, our platform adapts to their requirements.
We hope that these videos illustrate how BeenThereDoneThat continues to evolve and iterate to combine world-class expertise with tools and technology to enable Marketing leaders across the world to navigate and succeed in such a challenging landscape.
A huge thank you to our clients past and present, our community and everyone associated with BeenThereDoneThat who have contributed so much to getting to where we are today and we are excited about continuing to learn and develop into 2025 and beyond!
Your BeenThereDoneThat Team
Our Community video
Our Approach video
Hi, it's Anna here.
The word “hope” has been coming up a lot lately, as well as its shadow: hopelessness.
It feels like we’re all oscillating between the two. As I write this I’m feeling positive about tomorrow.
Tomorrow, I’ll be heading to the Dubai Future Forum: an event where futurists from across the world will come together and imagine better ways of being on this planet. The night I land, I’m going to an event called The Hopeful Dinner, which promises to be an immersive listening and culinary experience to foster dialogue about hope and creativity. Then, I get to spend three days hanging out with my favourite optimist.
Packing for the trip, I’ve had one of my favourite albums on repeat: Hopelessness by Anohni. It’s not what you’d call an optimistic record. Written during the Obama years (remember those?), it tackles themes of surveillance, climate catastrophe and drone warfare. It doesn’t shy away from the darkness. But beneath it all, there’s a defiance. We’re still here, after all.
That’s what hope feels like to me. It’s not about blind optimism or ignoring reality. It’s about creating something that pushes us forward, even (or perhaps especially) when everything feels difficult.
And lately, the 'difficult’ has been omnipresent.
Most meetings I’ve had in the past two weeks have started with a sombre check-in. Many of my clients and collaborators live in the United States, where the recent and incredibly divisive election has left them grappling with a feeling of political death.
As a creative community, we’ve just lost two brilliant artists far too young. While I didn’t know either of them personally, I’ve been pouring over their paintings and press clippings that have been shared in memorials on LinkedIn.
And then, of course, there’s Instagram, where death is violent and ever-visible.
A recent YouGov survey revealed that 58% of Brits would rather time travel to the past than the future, and 73% of young people feel anxious about what lies ahead. These numbers are bleak, but not surprising.
Sometimes it’s hard to imagine a brilliant tomorrow.
And yet, we have to try.
When I’m asked to define the kind of work I make or the themes that hold my favourite projects together, it’s about ideas that shift culture, even in small ways. There’s a perception that this kind of work lives exclusively in CSR or charity campaigns, but that’s not the case. I believe in using creativity to get people to imagine the world they want to live in, and to believe that those worlds are possible.
At RADAR, we’ve been working on a project called tomorrow.radio; it’s a platform for sharing small but meaningful stories of hope from communities across the world. The idea is simple: amplify what’s already good and working. It’s about real voices and real moments that show us things can get better.
We’re asking people to share what’s happening around them, on their streets and in their communities. From bees returning to gardens to otters returning to the River Lea. If you’ve got a story, and I’m sure you do, I encourage you to share it. Because hope isn’t a luxury; it’s vital. And right now, every bit of hope matters.
There’s no simple fix for the challenges we face. The world is complex, and change is slow and non-linear. But platforms like tomorrow.radio remind us of the small things in our lives that are moving in the right direction. And when we take the time to share those stories, we create something bigger: a collective belief that there’s plenty worth fighting for.
So, what’s happening near you that makes tomorrow feel like it could be brilliant? Let’s hear it.
Anna Rose Kerr
Freelance Creative Director & Consultant
Further reading:
Tomorrow radio: Add what makes you hopeful
What to do when someone you care about has lost hope
Hi, it's Lara here.
Ever heard the saying that Britain and America are two nations divided by a common language? Well, when it comes to marketing, that divide runs deeper than deciding whether to spell it 'color' or 'colour.'
Picture two cousins who grew up in different households - they might share DNA, but one charges ahead with bold statements about success, while the other prefers a subtle nod and a knowing wink. That's the US and UK marketing landscape in a nutshell.
It's about understanding the DNA of these markets, shaped by centuries of different experiences. Modern-day US, born in revolution, embraces disruption and self-determination like a tech startup in full stride. Meanwhile, the UK, with its centuries of monarchy and tradition, approaches change more like a careful curator at a prestigious museum.
As marketing guru Mark Ritson loves to point out, sharing a language doesn't mean sharing a mindset. It's like assuming two people will have the same taste in music just because they both speak English. The reality? These markets dance to very different tunes.
Let's talk numbers for a moment. According to Hofstede's Cultural Dimensions (researcher speak for "how different cultures tick"), there are two fascinating differences at play. First, Americans tend to think in shorter time frames than their British counterparts - imagine planning a dinner party - Americans might start planning a week ahead, while Brits are already thinking about next season's gatherings. This shows up in their scores: US comes in at 26 for long-term thinking, while the UK sits at a more forward-looking 51.
Take John Lewis and Macy's - two department store giants with very different approaches. John Lewis crafts emotional stories that build over years, rarely mentioning prices or pushing for immediate sales. It's like they're writing a novel, chapter by chapter. Macy's? They're more like a daily newspaper, focusing on the immediate - doorbusters, flash sales, "buy now before it's gone!"
But here's where it gets interesting: these cultures handle uncertainty very differently. The US scores 46 on uncertainty avoidance (meaning they prefer things clear and structured), while the UK scores 35 (suggesting they're more comfortable with ambiguity and reading between the lines). Think of it like giving directions – Americans might say, "turn left in 100 feet," while Brits would say, "take a left just past the pub."
This comfort with uncertainty shapes how brands speak to their audiences. Insurance advertising perfectly illustrates this cultural split. In the US, Geico's ads are like a well-organized PowerPoint presentation: "15 minutes could save you 15% or more" - boom, boom, boom. Cross the Atlantic, and comparethemarket.com's campaigns feel more like a casual chat at the pub, with meerkats discussing life over tea. Both sell insurance, but one gives you the facts straight up, while the other takes you on a more whimsical journey to the same destination.
Even McDonald's changes its tune across the pond. In the UK, they serve their marketing with a side of wit and subtle humor. In the US, it's all about the facts - here's what's in your burger, here's why it's good. Same golden arches, different story.
Geography plays its part too. Marketing in the UK is like playing on a small football pitch. The US? That's more like coordinating a cross-country marathon, with each region requiring its own playbook.
This extends to crisis communication too. When things go wrong, US brands typically respond with detailed action plans and commitments. UK brands often take a more nuanced approach, using humor or understated acknowledgment to navigate troubled waters.
Some brands have mastered this cultural tightrope walk. Burberry kept its British charm while speaking American marketing language. Ben & Jerry's adapts its message thoughtfully for each market – emphasizing sustainability initiatives in the UK, while celebrating moments of joy in the US. Others learned the hard way - poor Marks & Spencer stumbled in the US by assuming what works in Manchester would work in Manhattan.
Here's the thing about marketing across these two markets: it's not about choosing between long-term brand building and quick wins. It's about finding the right balance for each market. Think of it like cooking - same ingredients, different recipes.
The secret sauce? Understanding that success isn't just about translating words but truly comprehending each market's cultural DNA - the history that shaped it, the geography that defines it, and the social values that drive it. It's about knowing when to be bold and when to be subtle, when regional nuance matters and when national messaging works. These aren't just different markets - they're different mindsets formed by centuries of distinct experiences.
After all, it's not about speaking the same language - it's about understanding the mosaic of cultural perspectives shaping both markets.
Lara O’Shea
Founder of Strategy Latitudes & Member of the BeenThereDoneThat Expert network
Further reading:
The 6-D model of national culture
Bill Bryson, notes from a small island
Mark Ritson talks about his controversial column in Marketing Week
Seven culture-defining differences between UK and US ads
Welcome to another episode of "BeenThereDoneThat Where Next?" - a series by BeenThereDoneThat, where our host and co-founder, David Alberts, delves into conversations with industry experts.
In each episode of this series, David poses three questions to his guests:
- What’s the biggest challenge you are facing today?
- In an ideal world, where do you imagine this could go?
- What’s the first step you would take to get us to where we need to be?
Hi, it's Jacob here.
I’d like to pick up the thread from the last newsletter where Marielle was writing about micro-trends and the core-ification of fashion.
This is something I too am fascinated by, except I’m a middle-aged man so I tend to approach these phenomena as an observer rather than a participant!
For those who didn’t read Marielle’s piece, here’s a quick recap: In recent times you might have noticed the word “aesthetic” cropping up rather a lot.
‘Aesthetic’ is how the young people appear to be thinking about fashion and style. There are lots of aesthetics, and you can learn how to get them from TikTok or Youtube, and experiment until you find one that’s right for you. Aesthetic guides, made by fans of the aesthetic, will tell you which outfits to buy, which hobbies to take up, movies to watch, home decor accessories to buy and even where to go on holiday.
An aesthetic, essentially, is a coherent visual style. They’re rooted in fashion, but also tend to be a feeling, a lifestyle, as the young people might say “a vibe”.
I find this rather revealing (and endlessly fun). This content shows us something that’s been hiding in plain sight for a long time - aesthetics drive purchases. People buy things because they like how they look, or because of how the way they look complements how they see themselves. And just maybe, this might apply to brands and not just products…
In the last five years UK consumers have searched “aesthetics” 5x more than “climate change”. Here’s a simple survey I conducted last week:
Fairly convincingly, “my aesthetic” is much more significant as a claimed driver of purchase than “my values”; “my politics”; “my sexuality”; “my age” or even whether something is new or fashionable.
Why then don’t we talk about brand aesthetics more? Indeed, why do we think that factors such as how we style the people in our ads, or the type of photography or illustration used are “executional” but not “strategic”? Why is it “shallow” to choose something based on how it looks, but “meaningful” to choose it because of what it “means” in culture, or how it reflects our values?
Why do some brands think its ok to make something as ugly as this:
Strategy means focusing on what’s most important. Culture and consumers seem to say that aesthetics matter. Research seems to be telling us that “distinctive assets” matter.
But that’s not what we tend to talk about when we talk about strategy. Strategy is messages. “Deep” insights; “universal truths”. Not anything as trivial as pictures!
I’d proffer three explanations for why the visual side of brands isn’t considered “strategic”:
- History: as Paul Feldwick’s amazing books lay out, our industry is largely founded on ideas taken from door to door sales. The “proposition” is just an adaptation of the salesman’s “pitch”.
- Technology: our forebears worked with typewriters. Images were expensive and slow to produce. It made sense to discuss brands in words in the 1960s. Today we have more options…
- Prejudice. Fashion brands have always been aesthetically driven. But fashion has traditionally been seen as feminine. And for some reason the marketers of the past thought that meant it shouldn’t be taken terribly seriously and certainly couldn’t be a model for how other categories work.
In my opinion, we’d do well to consider Brand Aesthetics as a different, equally good way to think about how to define a brand. After all, humans were a visual species long before we had language. In many ways choosing something based on aesthetics is a deeper, more fundamental process than choosing based on feature set or trivial “values”. Social media is merely returning us to our neolithic roots!
As a parting thought: when I was a child, this picture hung on my bedroom wall:
It’s an advert, from around 1950. All around the world, in homes, Irish bars and chintzy tearooms. You’ll find vintage advertising like this used as decoration.
You can buy a reproduction of this one for £13.46 on Etsy:
This one is £14.95 on Amazon:
A lot of hot air has been expended over the last two decades on the topic of how do you get consumers to engage, participate and endorse your brand. And much attention is paid to the latest trends and technologies that promise to create that engagement.
But cast our eyes back further into history and we can see that not only will people engage with advertising, they’ll pay money to own it and display it proudly in their homes.
If we make it look nice enough.
Jacob Wright
Problem Definer & Marketing Consultant
Hi, it's Dan here.
I don’t want to write a naive post, underestimating the task of delivering innovation in big companies. Stage Gate / commercialisation processes are obviously and necessarily robust. I guess it’s called ‘the mangle’ for a reason!
However what I too often see or feel is organisations struggling with slow, methodical processes that also bog down the front end of innovation. What used to be the fun, creative, experimental part of brand building begins to feel heavily ‘pro forma’.
It now seems inevitable that there’ll be a ton of data and information to get through before we can get going. Heavy situation analysis, strategy papers and so on. We kick off projects with 100 page pre-reads and expect an exhausted committee to divine the right, specific innovation challenge on a Zoom.
Then we must commit to paper lists of what is feasible, viable, scalable, (sustainable…?), profitable - a mental straitjacket to put on in advance of ‘Exploration’. Speaking of which, we now need spreadsheets with macros and conditional formatting, simply in order to manage seemingly endless consumer screening criteria: God forbid we meet a ‘wrong person’ in a focus group. And we can no longer test any products or physical stimuli in ‘the research’, because interactions are now exclusively conducted online, or because it takes about a year from now to produce a sample of a new flavour concept.
Perhaps I’m exaggerating, or at least taking the worst examples of the kind of overly-restrictive (dare I say timid) risk aversions, process fixations and demonstrably unnecessary bits of bureaucracy that act as a drag on ‘Inventing New Stuff’. But to go back to the first sentence, I don’t want to write a naive post underestimating the task of delivering innovation in big companies. What I’m advocating for is simply the judicious application of Realness, where it might shortcut or work around otherwise vexatious protocols or processes that act as a brake on front end innovation.
What is Realness? For me, Realness is about making strategy / insights or ideas tangible and distinctive — early and often. Realness in an innovation process is simply a set of well timed interventions designed to keep everyone on their toes, driving engagement, momentum and enthusiasm for the workstream. Realness then is the difference between a spreadsheet full of numbers and a single Killer Fact that galvanises senior management. Realness is torpedoing bias or received wisdom with freshly validated data. Realness is the difference between concepts on a page and a good mock-up or prototype we can hold, test, and show. Realness is learning by selling before committing to full quant eval.
The great thing about Realness in these straitened times is that it’s fast, cheap and good. It’s the magic triangle! All it takes is personal effort and gumption, because we - the innovation team - drive it ourselves, using 3rd party resources, tools and techniques that have become crazily cheap. AI, Typeform, Fiverr, Prolific…
Realness examples from real projects:
1. Using a Custom AI (GPT based) to distil 300+ pages of data and information into candidate innovation opportunity hypotheses to be challenged by the team.
2. Coding and self-serving a quant survey to get a robust answer to a pivotal innovation question (in literally a couple of days).
3. Using Fiverr talent to mock up packaging concepts in 3D (ten days plus $800, from brief to delivery of physical samples - not perfect but good enough for the purpose).
4. Testing new shot drink liquid concepts, made by a 3rd party expert in three weeks, a workaround to the quoted 9 month lead time for company-made liquid concepts.
5. Selling products in an open market alongside competitors to refine packaging communication (which proved way off!) and to gauge relative pricing.
This call for Realness isn’t a plea for reckless speed, or a rejection of strategic rigour in favour of theatre and stunts. It’s a reminder of the power inherent in staying connected to the practical, tangible elements that keep innovation fast-paced and relevant (and God forbid, fun). Most basically it’s just a mindset that prioritises actions that fuel genuine momentum, building clarity and engagement through cut-the-crap manifestations of strategy, insights and ideas.
Next time it all feels a bit like wading through mud, maybe have a think, how can a bit of Realness grease the innovation machine?
Dan Read
Doer of innovation
Further reading:
Why Large Companies Struggle With Business Model Innovation
The Secret Power of Prototyping
The Hard Truth About Innovative Cultures
Driving innovation with Gen AI
Welcome to another episode of "BeenThereDoneThat Where Next?" - a series by BeenThereDoneThat, where our host and co-founder, David Alberts, delves into conversations with industry experts.
In each episode of this series, David poses three questions to his guests:
- What’s the biggest challenge you are facing today?
- In an ideal world, where do you imagine this could go?
- What’s the first step you would take to get us to where we need to be?
Hi, it's Marielle here.
Thank you all for gathering here today to pay our respects to some dearly departed friends…
The House of Sunny Hockney dress, who will live forever in our hearts and sadly for us, on Depop too. The Jacquemus Le Chiquito bag (and subsequent ASOS dupes) - if these tiny bags left a gargantuan hole in your pocket, then I’m truly sorry for your loss. And finally we say the hardest goodbye, to our dear friend, the Adidas Sambas. Cause of death - the exact moment Rishi Sunak laced them up.
All gone, and hopefully forgotten.
But this bubonic micro-plague is no longer solely targeting individual items, it’s now infecting entire online aesthetics.
Blokette or ballet core, clean girl or coquette aesthetic, mob wife or office siren - social media's brain rot branding has allowed these micro-aesthetics to permeate the wardrobes of those chronically online. Meaning the “core-ification” of our taste and visual aesthetic is now as transient as yesterday's Adidas Sambas.
And when left to the mercy of the algorithm, the rapid turnover of these trends has meant their life cycle is being dramatically compressed.
But in today's digital whodunnit, if TikTok is the trend slayer, there’s one clear accessory to their crime.
Their wholesome, unassuming cousin - Pinterest.
*Millennial gasps*
Pinterest has been our inspiration crutch since 2010 and as such, has amounted 518 million monthly active users. When a new “core” is born online, Pinterest acts as the nursery for it to grow. Churning out endless inspiration images to feed the masses in their unquenchable thirst for ‘office siren inspo pics’.
Yancey Strickler, Founder of Kickstarter, notes that “People used to be born into communities, then found their individuality. Today people are born individuals, then find their communities.” And platforms like Pinterest are compounding these communities or “sub-aesthetics” and making them an attainable, shoppable reality.
Consumers pin, purchase and post these pre-curated looks until (in the words of Miranda Priestly), they "trickle on down till we fish them out of a clearance bin" - and the bin in this instance is TikTok. A wasteland of regurgitated trends to be consumed, copied, and next week, cancelled.
However, as an avid Millennial “pinner”, I cannot ignore the positive effects of Pinterest and pinning as a form of self care is now a widely shared pastime amongst younger demographics.
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Laura Montilla, a Gen Z Lab Ambassador at Edelman, notes, "most social media apps are something to avoid when prioritising mental health and wellness. Pinterest is the app that's now seen as investing in your health and creativity."
But, as Pinterest embraces more in app shopping, it’s this self care scrolling that's playing a major role in the overconsumption and saturation of trends.
“Passive consumerism” occurs when we buy without conscious decision-making aka scrolling on autopilot. While Pinterest morphs casual scrolling into stealth shopping, TikTok's rapid-fire trend cycles create FOMO-driven purchases. Both platforms have mastered the art of turning passive scrolling into active consumption.
But can you blame us? Pinterest serves us these mouthwatering aesthetics on a platter and with an accelerated pin-purchase user journey, it takes strong will power to not indulge.
A recent Pinterest report revealed that 63% of weekly Gen Z Pinners say they're "always shopping” and although they may not always have immediate plans to buy something, Gen Z users are saving nearly 2.5 times more pins and making 66% more boards than other generations.
And Pinterest has taken note with the platform transforming into a full-funnel solution for brands, with increasingly covert ads embedded into feeds, masquerading as normal images. And as 96% of user searches are unbranded, companies can literally insert themselves into the picture of the latest “core”. This cosy scrolling is fast becoming window shopping for the digital age - where the line between browsing and buying is blurrier than ever.
But users are collectively smelling bullshit at the commercialisation of their once cosy corner of the internet, with the companies push towards e-commerce is giving many people the ick.
"Pinterest was the last safe social media platform from ad bombardment. Now I get nothing but ads." This sentiment is echoed by others with comments like “The jump scare of clicking an image and getting redirected cuz you didn’t realise it was an ad”. In fact many people in the comments have now resorted to only scrolling with an ad blocker installed.
However annoying, the increased ad’s are proving effective at turning passive browsers into active customers. Sprout Social reports that “Pinterest ads have been shown to deliver a 2x higher ROAS (return on ad spend) for retail brands than other digital platforms”.
Clearly disliking something doesn't always translate into not using it - especially when I hate so many useful things in life - the tube, autocorrect, Alexa.
So I ask the jury this, in our ongoing investigation into the murder of microtrends is there ever one guilty party? Clearly Pinterest and TikTok play a significant role in the crime, but is the trail of destruction left in their wake a symptom of their greed or our own?
And when we’re all so starved of originality, can we really bite the hand that dresses us? Or, perhaps the real perpetrator of the crime has been a reflection in our screens all along.
Marielle Kouroushi Phillips
Community Manager at BeenThereDoneThat
Supporting articles
1. To read more like this, subscribe to Marielle’s personal newsletter Deep Scroll Diet
2. Examining the Era of Micro Trends
3. How Maybelline is leveraging Pinterest to reach Gen-Z makeup fans
Hi, it's Dan here.
I’ve recently been listening to a BBC podcast about Sting and The Police.
I’d never quite known their full back story - how they assembled largely by chance, how they rose quickly, and how for a period of around five years in the early 80s, they were the biggest band in the world.
By the time they came to make what would be their final and best-selling album, in the good old fashioned tradition of rock bands, they were not getting along too well.
The story of this album is a remarkable one.
Because despite being called Synchronicity, it’s a tale of active anti-collaboration.
When recording, band protocol was that each member would arrive at the studio with their own tracks; they’d debate these and then eventually whittle down to a final, shared selection.
This time though, Sting (the pre-tantric version) decided to assume complete control, turning up at the studio in Montserrat with a full album of pre-recorded material. The role for Andy and Stuart was therefore purely to play over these tracks, relegated to session musician status.
What followed was ultimate dysfunction.
Not only did they row bitterly for two weeks before recording even a single note, but they then each recorded their parts in entirely separate places, well away from each other.
The worst possible circumstances led to musical greatness.
Which got me thinking about collaboration.
Pre Covid, the doctrinaire view was that for collaboration to work, it was essential to be in a room together. Now it can feel just as easy to operate remotely.
Many of us are regularly in meetings that include people from all over the world. The tech is obviously important. Teams, Mural, Google Slides - whatever your bag is, these are all useful tools.
It seems to me though that tech might not be the most important enabler.
Our business has collaboration in its very DNA and my observation would be that true collaboration is truly enabled by a shared frame of reference.
Are we all clear on exactly what we’re solving for?
Is there alignment on the ambition?
Are there specific frameworks, terminology and templates we’re using, and is everyone comfortable with these? Do we have a system?
Workaday stuff, you might contest - but haven’t we all been in situations where these basics are not in place and therefore where collaboration is therefore painfully unproductive? Even when you’re in the same room.
I once had a strategist colleague who was very smart, but as a team leader was utterly unplayable, because the only structure he knew was his own opinion in the moment.
He informed people of his views, rather than uniting them under any kind of shared vision.
He abjured shared mental models.
Quite literally, a strategic dictator.
If there is no shared frame of reference, if the group is second-guessing each other, then it’s very, very difficult to be productive. I give you the UK Tory party.
Collaboration requires common ground: the shortcut to a better place, and the glue needed to stay there.
Whether you’re in the same room or not, well, as Julia Roberts once said, “that’s just geography”.
The Police’s Synchronicity was born of perfectionism and competition.
Arguably these are useful elements in getting to great outcomes in the short term.
But the trouble is that the by-product is antagonism - so it’s just not very sustainable.
Synchronicity broke The Police irreparably.
In agencies, it’s often deemed essential to good outcomes that people be physically present in the room. Because “that’s how the best work happens”.
I’m less sure.
If we invest time and energy upfront in creating a shared vision and system, then the group has freedom within a framework. It’s operating from a base of mutual trust. And actually in our own business we have seen that this drives drastically more effective collaboration over the long term - regardless of where you’re sitting.
Just ask The Police.
And, while you’re at it, Don’t Stand So Close To Me.
Dan Gibson
Managing Director at BeenThereDoneThat
Supporting articles
1. Sting Eras podcast: The first of the four episodes now available.
2. Lessons on collaboration from the story of Saturday Night Live
3. Which were the best musical collaborations of all time? This piece has the answers.
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