Why I'm Jealous of Highway Menus and You Should Be Too
There is a petrol station cafe outside of Bulls with a laminated menu that's been blue-tacked to the wall since at least 2016. No branding. No food photography. Just a list of items in Comic Sans and the kind of price formatting that seems to actively avoid consistency. It might be the most honest piece of commercial design I’ve seen this year.
Somewhere between customer acquisition funnels and punchy brand pillars, we lost the art of visual sincerity. When I say I admire that forgotten menu, I mean it performs something that high-end experiential design often forgets: unvarnished clarity. One coffee, $4.90. No seasonal lingo. No ethically sourced origin mythology. And yet, I've never felt more certain of a purchase in my life.
The marketing industry loves to chase polish. But in doing so, we sometimes sand off the soul. That highway menu has no gradients, drop shadows, or storytelling arc, just a quiet promise: food here, now. Which is astonishing when you consider entire digital campaigns struggle to achieve that level of certainty. I’ve audited brands that spent tens of thousands crafting copy lines that try to say the same thing as "Toasted sandwich (Chicken or Ham), $6" and fail.
We don't need to ditch craft. We need to rethink what we prize. There’s magic in utility, clarity, and a touch of unexpected absurdity. Maybe, just maybe, spend less on your brand refresh and try blue-tacking a list of promises to your shop window. Let’s see who walks in.
Somewhere between customer acquisition funnels and punchy brand pillars, we lost the art of visual sincerity. When I say I admire that forgotten menu, I mean it performs something that high-end experiential design often forgets: unvarnished clarity. One coffee, $4.90. No seasonal lingo. No ethically sourced origin mythology. And yet, I've never felt more certain of a purchase in my life.
The marketing industry loves to chase polish. But in doing so, we sometimes sand off the soul. That highway menu has no gradients, drop shadows, or storytelling arc, just a quiet promise: food here, now. Which is astonishing when you consider entire digital campaigns struggle to achieve that level of certainty. I’ve audited brands that spent tens of thousands crafting copy lines that try to say the same thing as "Toasted sandwich (Chicken or Ham), $6" and fail.
We don't need to ditch craft. We need to rethink what we prize. There’s magic in utility, clarity, and a touch of unexpected absurdity. Maybe, just maybe, spend less on your brand refresh and try blue-tacking a list of promises to your shop window. Let’s see who walks in.