A fireside conversation with Vermajee over his favourite drink discussing the future of brands.
“Brands will be dead by 2040.” I started the conversation.
Vermajee, the marketing consultant and a dear friend, looked at me over his favourite drink, with the expression of a marketing consultant who has just heard a client announce a completely unnecessary rebranding exercise.
“You have said this before.”
“I know.”
“And you are saying it again?”
“Yes. I must be getting old. Either that, or I haven’t yet managed to convince you.”
He smiled. “So this time you have evidence?”
“Not exactly. I have a more logical argument. I am trying to make a case for you and, hopefully, for everyone else who will read it tomorrow. And hopefully get them to agree with me. Although, knowing you, you will probably disagree first and agree later.”
“That is what friends are for.”
“Consultants are for that too. At least, the expensive ones.”
He laughed.
“But seriously, you think Brands will be dead?” he asked.
“Because products are going to become increasingly difficult to differentiate. AI will accelerate that.”
“That’s a rather sweeping statement.”
“Think about it. Today, we differentiate through features, technology, design, packaging, communication, personalisation, service and experience. Tomorrow, AI will make much of this available to everyone, faster and cheaper. It can design, improve and personalise the product, and create the campaign to sell it.”
“So differentiation becomes temporary?”
“Exactly. The competitive advantage you celebrate in the boardroom on Monday could become a category feature by Tuesday.”
Vermajee took a sip. “So you are saying everything becomes a commodity and that means brands will be dead?”
“Eventually, much of it could. Not necessarily identical, but functionally close enough. When ten products can all perform almost equally well, the product itself stops being the most interesting part of the decision.”
“Then what does the consumer choose?”
“That is the interesting question.”
I leaned forward.
“Imagine I ask an AI agent to find me the best insurance policy. It evaluates thousands of options. It understands my requirements better than I do. It eliminates the bad ones and gives me ten that are almost equally suitable.”
“Which one do I buy?”
“Exactly.”
He smiled. “You buy the cheapest.”
“Sometimes. But if the price difference is marginal?”
“Reviews?”
“Perhaps. But what if the reviews are equally good?”
“Reputation?”
“Now we are getting somewhere.”
“Trust?”
“Precisely.”
He nodded.
“And that,” I said, “is when branding comes alive.”
Vermajee looked unconvinced.
“Wait. You just killed brands and brought branding back in the same breath.”
“That’s the point. Brands will be dead because products become commodities. Branding may come alive because commodities need meaning.”
He poured himself another drink and then sat back.
“I remember Osho saying something about life being cyclical,” he said. “Everything moves in circles. What goes away returns, though perhaps in another form.”
“That is exactly my point. We keep assuming that the future is a straight line. It rarely is. Fashion returns. Music returns. Old technologies return with new names. Business models disappear and then suddenly become ‘innovative’ again because someone has put an app around them.”
“Like consultants,” he added.
“Exactly. Consultants are perhaps the best example of reincarnation.”
We both laughed.
“But brands?” he asked.
“Brands will return because human beings have a fundamental problem: we don’t want to make every decision from scratch.”
“That sounds almost too simple.”
“Most powerful truths are annoyingly simple. When everything is available, choice becomes exhausting. When everything is comparable, comparison becomes exhausting. And when everything is technically good enough, we look for a shortcut.”
“And a brand provides that shortcut?”
“Yes. A strong brand tells me, ‘You don’t need to investigate everything. You know enough about me to choose.’”
Vermajee looked at his glass.
“So the brand becomes a decision convenience?”
“Exactly. Trust packaged as convenience.”
“And what happens to advertising?”
“It changes. Perhaps dramatically. The loudest voice will not necessarily win. The accumulated memory of what a brand stands for may matter more than the latest campaign.”
“Logo?”
“Less important.”
“Tagline?”
“Probably less important.”
“Celebrity?”
“God help us, hopefully less important, better irrelevant.”
He laughed.
“Then what survives?”
“Meaning. Reputation. Trust. Consistency. Belief. Behaviour. A promise repeatedly kept.”
I paused before adding, “The brand may stop being the reason I notice you and instead become the reason I finally choose you.”
Vermajee nodded slowly.
“That is a very different role for a brand.”
“It is. That is why I don’t really believe brands will disappear. The old definition of a brand may die. The need for branding will become stronger.”
He raised his glass.
“So, after killing brands, you are resurrecting them?”
“Of course. Marketing has always been good at resurrection.”
He smiled. “And I suppose you will write about this again?”
“Certainly. I must have said it before, but clearly I haven’t made the case well enough.”
“And next time?”
“Next time I will probably have an even stronger argument.”
He took another sip of his favourite drink and looked at me.
“I think I know what is actually dead.”
“What?”
“The possibility of getting you to stop talking about brands.”
I laughed.
“Fair enough. But admit it, you are beginning to agree with me.”
He didn’t answer.
Which, in marketing consultant language, I interpreted as positive consumer intent.
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