What Ice Blocks Taught Me About Brand Stretching
I spent the summer of 2025 arguing with my eight-year-old nephew about Frujus. Not the flavour—he’s a tried-and-true Raspberry guy—but the box. Specifically, the fact that says “Brought to you by Tip Top” in suspiciously small writing.
This sent me spiralling into a brand rabbit hole, trying to track how far a product can wander from home before it loses its soul. Tip Top, our national ice cream icon from the pink Enduras of childhood, now extends its brand into bars, yoghurt tubs, dairy-free treats, and yes, dubious fruit ice pops with less dairy than a climate crisis rally. I checked the Companies Office. Same owner. Slightly shifty game.
But here's the question: when does brand extension become brand dilution? Especially in a market like ours, where the emotional value of a label—like Tip Top, or even Whitestone, Vogel’s, or Barkers—is worth more than the literal product? We take things personally here. We remember what Griffin’s biscuits used to taste like. We track when brand packaging gets shinier or reverts to 'classic'. So when companies begin stretching because someone in head office found “synergies”, the risk isn’t invisibility, it’s emotional betrayal.
Still, I’m not here to be precious. Some extensions are glorious. Remember when Whittaker’s made their K Bar collaborations? That was branded crack. But it worked because it respected the brand’s integrity while slipping in a little mischief. So next time we marvel at a surprising brand crossover (I see you, Barkers x Pizza base), pause and ask: Is this an extension, or an existential crisis in foil wrap?
This sent me spiralling into a brand rabbit hole, trying to track how far a product can wander from home before it loses its soul. Tip Top, our national ice cream icon from the pink Enduras of childhood, now extends its brand into bars, yoghurt tubs, dairy-free treats, and yes, dubious fruit ice pops with less dairy than a climate crisis rally. I checked the Companies Office. Same owner. Slightly shifty game.
But here's the question: when does brand extension become brand dilution? Especially in a market like ours, where the emotional value of a label—like Tip Top, or even Whitestone, Vogel’s, or Barkers—is worth more than the literal product? We take things personally here. We remember what Griffin’s biscuits used to taste like. We track when brand packaging gets shinier or reverts to 'classic'. So when companies begin stretching because someone in head office found “synergies”, the risk isn’t invisibility, it’s emotional betrayal.
Still, I’m not here to be precious. Some extensions are glorious. Remember when Whittaker’s made their K Bar collaborations? That was branded crack. But it worked because it respected the brand’s integrity while slipping in a little mischief. So next time we marvel at a surprising brand crossover (I see you, Barkers x Pizza base), pause and ask: Is this an extension, or an existential crisis in foil wrap?