How a Niche Pickle Brand Broke Every Rule and Still Won My Wallet
The other day I bought a $14 jar of pickles from a pop-up stall in Newtown. Not because they promised to reinvent my gut biome, but because the label looked like it had been crayoned by a sleep-deprived art school dropout. It felt reckless and a little rogue, and that’s exactly why I loved it.
We talk endlessly about authenticity in branding, but most efforts belong to what I call the Taxidermy School of Marketing: all the organic signifiers, but somehow still lifeless. But Harold’s Spicy Dill Pickles? They screamed anti-strategy. No clean type hierarchy, no colour palette that had been filtered through six sessions of ethnographic research in Upper Brooklyn. Harold, if he exists, clearly doesn’t believe in monthly content calendars.
And that’s the punk energy missing from 90 percent of New Zealand’s boutique brand scene. Too many startups are reading from the same HBR blog post and hiring the same ‘empathy-led’ consultants. Your seaweed-based skincare doesn't need a manifesto. It probably needs some pickles. Consumers aren’t looking for more story, they’re looking for a break. Surprise them. Sell sideways.
This isn’t a crusade against good design. But brands that look like they’re trying too hard usually are. The magic’s at the margins now – where napkin logic, gut instinct, and a little good taste collide. And occasionally, it drips with vinegar.
We talk endlessly about authenticity in branding, but most efforts belong to what I call the Taxidermy School of Marketing: all the organic signifiers, but somehow still lifeless. But Harold’s Spicy Dill Pickles? They screamed anti-strategy. No clean type hierarchy, no colour palette that had been filtered through six sessions of ethnographic research in Upper Brooklyn. Harold, if he exists, clearly doesn’t believe in monthly content calendars.
And that’s the punk energy missing from 90 percent of New Zealand’s boutique brand scene. Too many startups are reading from the same HBR blog post and hiring the same ‘empathy-led’ consultants. Your seaweed-based skincare doesn't need a manifesto. It probably needs some pickles. Consumers aren’t looking for more story, they’re looking for a break. Surprise them. Sell sideways.
This isn’t a crusade against good design. But brands that look like they’re trying too hard usually are. The magic’s at the margins now – where napkin logic, gut instinct, and a little good taste collide. And occasionally, it drips with vinegar.