What if your cleaning tools could clean the planet too? Most of us don’t think twice about the sponge under the sink. But  Seep  did, and turned it into a quiet climate movement. Seep is a UK-based, female-founded company on a mission to eliminate 1 billion plastic cleaning tools from landfill by 2030. Their approach is refreshingly simple: make sustainable cleaning products that are actually better for your home, your hands, and the planet. Just smart design and serious intent. Who are they? Seep launched in 2020 with a handful of compostable, plastic-free alternatives to everyday cleaning tools such as cloths, sponges, brushes, and gloves. But 2024 has been their tipping point. They moved from early-stage startup to scale-up, landing shelves at Tesco, Ocado, Booths, and more. They won Sustainable Business of the Year in Startups100, partnered with FoodCycle, and even took the stage at the Cartier Women’s Initiative. All while sticking to one thing: clean up the cleaning industry. What makes them different? Unlike most “eco” products that quietly compromise on performance, Seep focuses on quality first. They improved product durability, relaunched better designs based on direct customer feedback, and focused obsessively on reducing waste. Every product is: 1. Plastic-free 2. Compostable or endlessly recyclable 3. Built to last longer than conventional alternatives 4. And made to reduce microplastics in our homes and waterways 5. They even refuse to air-freight, despite growing demand, choosing sea shipping to stay true to their low-footprint model. So what’s the impact? 1. 6.3 million plastic tools kept out of landfill 2. Partnered with On A Mission to plant 18,685 trees 3. 789.5 tonnes of CO₂ avoided vs plastic equivalents 4. Donated products to 80+ FoodCycle kitchens across the UK 5. Joined leading voices on podcasts, B-Corp forums, and sustainability panels  And helped make plastic-free cleaning a mainstream retail reality. Why it matters It’s about shifting default behaviours. Taking something as ordinary as a sponge and turning it into an everyday act of climate action. The next time you see Seep on a shelf, remember: It’s not only a product, it’s a systems-level rethink, wrapped in good design and compostable packaging. We need more of that energy. Do you know a quiet, purpose-driven brand that’s doing the real work? I’d love to hear about it. Cheers! Akanksha

At Pura Utz , craft is not just a product; it’s a practice of preservation. A way of keeping culture, dignity, and women’s independence alive. Founded in 2018 by Anna Andres and Bernabela Sapalú in Guatemala, Pura Utz partners with local Mayan women artisans to breathe life into a centuries-old tradition of beadwork. But it’s not just about beautiful accessories. It’s about agency. Stability. Pride. The kind that comes from earning a full-time income, having creative control, and knowing your work is valued around the world. When Pura Utz began, the team consisted of just six women. But it grew steadily. Today, sixteen women work full-time at the brand, and during peak seasons, over fifty come together, forming a quiet network of purpose and possibility. Their dream was never to scale fast. It was to scale meaningfully. To give women in Santiago Atitlán the tools to provide for themselves, invest in their families, and pass down traditions that might otherwise be lost. Walk into their workshop today, and you’ll see women stitching tote bags and pouches, each made from more than 30,000 glass beads, each stitch preserving a story. In another corner, delicate necklaces and earrings bloom under careful hands, adorned with the brand’s iconic beaded fruit charms. This is not mass production. This is a living heritage. Pura Utz reminds us that not everything in business is meant to be scaled overnight. Some things are meant to be honoured, protected, and carried forward, generation by generation. The Storyteller’s Lens exists to share stories like these. Not because they shout, but because they stay.

Most brands talk about purpose. Nöl Collective was built on it. While the fashion world obsesses over AI styling tools, same-day delivery, and trend cycles that reset every Thursday, Nöl   Collective is doing the opposite. It’s slowing things down. Way down. And that’s the point. This didn’t start as a fashion story. It started with a much tougher one. In 2018, Yasmeen Mjalli was documenting street harassment in Palestine through a grassroots initiative. Her activism took her into communities, workshops, and living rooms, where she began meeting Palestinian women still practising traditional crafts. They were embroiders, weavers, seamstresses, women who’d been quietly carrying cultural knowledge through thread and fabric for generations. They had no Instagram presence, no e-commerce platform, just heritage and hands. The problem? That entire ecosystem was on the brink. Craft was never the problem. Demand was. Palestine’s political situation complicates everything. Add to that the global pressure of fast fashion, and traditional artisans don’t stand a chance. Cheaper imports flood the market. Workshops were closing. Families were leaving work behind. What was once a generational skillset was becoming obsolete in real time. So she did something unusual: she built a brand. But not the kind built in pitch decks or trend reports. Nöl Collective is part fashion label, part act of cultural resistance. Every piece is made in Palestine, and every artisan is named, credited, and paid fairly. The designs are modern, but the values are old and intentional. This is not a fashion built for scale. It’s fashion built for memory. This is what it looks like when a brand means something. Nöl’s not here to dominate global runways. That’s not the brief. What it is doing is far more interesting: building an economic and cultural platform for Palestinian women in an industry that rarely stops to look sideways. In a time when ‘conscious consumption’ has become a tagline, Nöl asks a harder question: What are we actually preserving when we say we care about sustainability? Because it’s not just about carbon footprints or supply chains; it’s about the people. The hands. The stories. At The Storyteller’s Lens, I pay attention to brands like this. They don’t perform well because they show up quietly and do the work. And sometimes, that’s the loudest statement you can make. I'd love to hear your story if you know a brand like Nöl or if you’re building one. 📩 hello@akankshasingh.net .

Dear Reader, I am here with yet another brand story for you. It starts with a slice. Then another. Then, millions more. Nearly half of all bread produced in the UK is never eaten. It’s wasted leftovers from bakeries, surplus from supermarkets, forgotten loaves in kitchen cupboards. But what if waste wasn’t the end of the story? What if it was just the beginning? That’s exactly what  Toast Brewing  set out to prove.  They saw an untapped opportunity in something most people overlook: turning surplus bread into craft beer. A Beer with Purpose When Toast Ale launched in 2016, their mission was clear: rescue bread, reduce waste, and craft a damn good beer while doing it. They weren’t reinventing the wheel; ancient civilisations brewed beer with bread thousands of years ago. But they were the first to bring it into the modern sustainability movement. By replacing one-third of the malted barley in beer with surplus bread, they cut down on agricultural land use, water waste, and carbon emissions while creating a beer that’s earned global recognition. Since then, they’ve saved 3.3 million slices of bread, a stack nearly five times the height of Mount Everest. But for Toast, this isn’t just about numbers. It’s about changing how we think about food waste and proving that sustainability can be delicious. 100% Profits, 100% Impact Most companies talk about purpose. Toast backs it up. Instead of chasing profits for shareholders, they’ve taken a bold step: 100% of their distributable profits go to charities tackling food waste and environmental issues. Every. Single. Penny. So far, they’ve donated over £116,000 to organisations fighting for a better food system, sustainable agriculture, and climate action. It’s not a marketing gimmick; it’s their business model. A Lighter Carbon Footprint, One Pint at a Time Brewing beer takes resources. But Toast Ale proves that every choice, from ingredients to packaging, matters. And the numbers don’t lie: 150 tCO2e: Their total emissions (Scope 1, 2, and 3) 5.3 tCO2e avoided: Thanks to surplus bread replacing barley 65% lower carbon footprint: A can versus a bottle 80% lower carbon footprint: A pint from a keg versus a bottle The message is simple: choose cans and kegs, not bottles. More Than Beer Toast Ale's mission extends beyond brewing, pushing for systemic transformation. That’s why they advocate for policies like the Climate & Nature Bill and the Better Business Act, driving shifts that go beyond their own impact. And they’re not gatekeeping their success. Their open-source recipe, downloaded over 50,000 times, invites breweries worldwide to join the fight against food waste. Because the end goal isn’t just selling more beer; it’s eliminating bread waste altogether. Raise a Toast to the Future The best way to change the world? Throw a better party than the people destroying it. And Toast Ale is doing exactly that. They’ve proven that sustainability doesn’t have to be serious; it can be fun, flavorful, and fueled by great beer. So next time you crack open a cold one, make it a Toast. To sustainability. To innovation. To a future where no loaf, no opportunity, goes to waste. Cheers! Akanksha

Dear Reader, Once, photography was slow. Then  Polaroid  arrived, and suddenly, images developed in real time. No darkrooms, no negatives, just a memory captured and materialised before your eyes. It was instant, tactile, and a little bit magic. By the 1970s, Polaroid wasn’t just a household name; it was everywhere. Birthday parties, road trips, and art studios. It wasn’t just for family albums; it was for the avant-garde.  And long before "influencer marketing" was a thing, Polaroid had cultural icons working for them. Andy Warhol never left home without his camera, capturing the glittering chaos of Studio 54. Helmut Newton used it to frame high-fashion test shots. Ansel Adams, a master of landscape photography, saw its creative potential. Polaroid wasn’t just a camera; it was a medium. Immediate, unpredictable, thrilling. A frame of reality, captured and held in your hands. When the Picture Faded But instant gratification has an expiration date, and Polaroid’s time ran out. By the late 1990s, digital cameras took over. Sharper images. Infinite storage. The convenience of a screen. Polaroid, once the trailblazer of photography, suddenly felt slow.  The brand tried to adapt, releasing its own digital products, but it clung to film too long, failing to anticipate how fast the world was moving. Kodak pivoted early, investing heavily in digital, while Polaroid banked on nostalgia before nostalgia was even a strategy. Sales plummeted.  The missteps piled up, niche products that didn’t stick, failed experiments, a reluctance to reinvent. By 2001, Polaroid filed for bankruptcy. By 2008, it was over: instant film production shut down for good. The camera that once defined the future had been left behind, a relic in an industry that had moved on. The Impossible Comeback But Polaroid was more than just a product; it was a feeling. And feelings don’t die that easily. When the last Polaroid factory in the Netherlands was set to close, a group of former Polaroid employees, led by Florian Kaps, did something unthinkable and brave.  They bought the factory and its production machines and launched The Impossible Project, an attempt to recreate Polaroid film from scratch. It was a desperate move. The original chemical formulas had been lost, and the world had seemingly moved on. But against all odds, they pulled it off. And just as Polaroid film returned, something strange happened: the world got tired of digital perfection.  Millennials and Gen Z, raised on ultra-sharp screens, craved something real. The grainy texture, the soft colors, the unpredictability- what was once a flaw became a feature.  In 2017, The Impossible Project officially acquired the Polaroid name, launching Polaroid Originals before reclaiming its original identity. What had once seemed outdated had transformed into an analog rebellion, a backlash to digital feeds' endless, mindless scrolling. Marketing That Stuck Polaroid’s comeback wasn’t just about nostalgia; it was smart positioning. Instead of competing with digital cameras or smartphones, it leaned into its imperfections.  The faded colors, the light leaks, the fact that every shot was one-of-a-kind. Polaroid became an aesthetic. A brand that couldn’t be replicated by an Instagram filter. And it knew how to sell it.  Artist collaborations, limited-edition drops, and high-fashion partnerships, from Stranger Things-branded cameras to Keith Haring film packs, made Polaroid collectibles. Scarcity created hype.  Vintage became currency. Social media became a gallery, filled with user-generated Polaroid content. But the real genius? Polaroid sold an experience, not just a product. A Polaroid photo isn’t disposable like a digital snapshot. It’s intentional. You don’t get unlimited takes; every shot matters. Shaking Up the Future Polaroid isn’t trying to be the best camera in the world. It’s playing an entirely different game. It offers something no iPhone ever could: physicality, nostalgia, and a connection to the moment itself. It’s not about megapixels or cloud storage; it’s about creating something you can hold.  The Polaroid comeback is a lesson in brand storytelling, a case study in understanding the emotional currency of a product. It’s proof that sometimes, the best way forward isn’t chasing innovation at all. It’s about owning what made you special in the first place.  Because some things aren’t meant to be left in the past, you just have to shake them up and let the colours develop. Cheers! Akanksha

Dear Reader, There is a certain satisfaction in watching a small, independent brand outmaneuver the giants of an industry.  It’s even better when that brand is built by three of Britain’s most fearless mountain bikers, turning their hard-earned racing wisdom into something you can actually ride.  Atherton Bikes  isn’t just building mountain bikes; it’s redefining what a high-performance ride should be. From Racing Pedigree to Manufacturing Pioneers Most athletes retire and cash in on their names with endorsements and signature products. The Atherton siblings, Dan, Gee, and Rachel, looked at the best bikes on the market and decided they could do better.  So, in 2019, they set out to build bikes that weren’t just mass-produced moulds but tailored machines engineered for performance. Their approach? Ditch the one-size-fits-all frame sizes, embrace cutting-edge( yes, i couldn’t find any other word ) tech, and make every bike feel like an extension of its rider. Precision in Every Tube and Lug Atherton Bikes doesn’t do cookie-cutter. Instead of stamping out generic frames, they use 3D-printed titanium lugs fused with carbon fibre tubing, allowing them to tweak every frame for the perfect fit.  It’s about more than just comfort; it’s about precision, power, and taking mountain biking to the next level. Each bike is designed, printed, tested, and assembled in their Machynlleth, Wales workshop. Every frame gets tested on actual mountains, under actual riders who know the meaning of “crash-proof” (and, occasionally, “hospital visit”).  The result? A bike that isn’t just fast but feels like it was built just for you because it was. A Sustainable Future for Performance Cycling For all its outdoorsy branding, the cycling industry has a problem: it’s drowning in overproduction and waste. Atherton Bikes has a better idea. By using on-demand production and 3D printing, they eliminate the waste that comes from cutting traditional metal tubes.  No excess stock, no surplus frames dumped into discount bins, no pointless waste. And because their modular design allows for easy repairs, an Atherton bike isn’t a short-term fling; it’s built to last. No Marketing Gimmicks, Just Racing Pedigree While other brands throw money at influencers and flashy ads, Atherton Bikes takes a more direct approach: winning races.  Gee Atherton throwing himself down a mountainside on an Atherton bike is worth more than any carefully curated Instagram campaign. Their bikes don’t just look fast in photos; they prove it on the race circuit. And then there’s their direct-to-consumer model, cutting out middlemen and putting them in direct conversation with their customers.  You don’t just buy an Atherton bike; you work with them to create the perfect ride. The result? A cult-like following that doesn’t need to be convinced. What’s Next for Britain’s Most Exciting Bike Brand? Atherton Bikes is still small, but they’re growing fast, and the industry is paying attention. Their challenge now is to scale up without losing their obsessive attention to detail, to remain the bike brand that does things differently, no matter how big they get. For now, they’re focused on what they do best: making the fastest, most precise, most thrilling mountain bikes on the planet. And if history tells us anything, it’s that the Athertons don’t settle for second place. Cheers! Akanksha

Dear Reader, I am here with yet another brand story, but this week, i have decided to write something positive and give the critic inside me a break. So, here is the story of an entrepreneur couple, Chris Forbes and Julie Chen.  When  Chris Forbes 🌲🌍  and  Julie Chen  stumbled upon the idea of bamboo tissue products during a trip to Asia, little did they know they were planting the seeds for a global eco-revolution. What began as a curious discovery quickly became a bold mission to disrupt the hygiene industry, resulting in  The Cheeky Panda . Today, their playful panda logo is synonymous with sustainability, but the journey from concept to global success wasn’t without its challenges. In 2016, Chris and Julie were struck by the environmental impact of traditional tissue production. Every year, millions of trees are cut down to make products that are used once and discarded. Bamboo, on the other hand, offered a renewable, fast-growing alternative, one that could produce softer, stronger tissue without depleting forests. “When we saw how bamboo could replace trees in hygiene products, it just clicked,” Forbes said in an interview with Happy Eco News. “We realised we had a chance to build a business that was not just profitable but truly impactful for the planet.” Their idea was as cheeky as their branding: take a product as mundane as tissue paper and turn it into a statement of eco-conscious living. With its playful branding, the company appealed to a new generation of consumers who wanted sustainability without sacrificing quality or style. Forbes credits their approach to sophisticated storytelling. “You can be sustainable and still be fun, modern, and engaging,” he shared. Their gamble paid off. From securing a listing in Boots to breaking into 25 countries, The Cheeky Panda became a leader in the green hygiene space. In 2022, their products earned a coveted spot on NHS shelves, further cementing their credibility in the UK. While their vision was clear, building a sustainable business was no small feat. Forbes admits that educating consumers about bamboo’s benefits was a major hurdle.  “Most people don’t think about where their tissues come from,” he said. “We had to connect the dots for them, why bamboo is better for the planet and how it’s part of a circular economy.” To walk the talk, The Cheeky Panda ensured every part of its supply chain aligned with its values. Their products are vegan-certified, plastic-free, and made using bamboo that regenerates naturally. By adopting a lifecycle approach, they reduced their carbon footprint and set an example for other brands to follow. A key ingredient in The Cheeky Panda’s success has been collaboration. Whether it’s working with organisations like the NHS or engaging with corporate clients looking for sustainable solutions, the company has leveraged partnerships to amplify its impact. One notable collaboration came with NetSuite, which helped them scale operations as they expanded internationally. This strategic investment in technology ensured they could keep up with demand without compromising quality. The company’s commitment to sustainability has inspired a wave of eco-conscious entrepreneurs, proving that business can be a force for good. For Forbes and Chen, their journey is far from over. “The world doesn’t need more products; it needs better products,” Forbes said. “If we can inspire other businesses to think the same way, that’s the real win.” As sustainability becomes more than just a trend, The Cheeky Panda shows what can happen when people combine their passion with purpose.  Forbes put it best: “We’re not just selling bamboo tissues; we’re showing the world that there’s a better way to do business.” One Bamboo Roll at a time! Akanksha

Image Credit: The Times Dear Reader 💜, On my way to the gym every morning, I grab a  innocent drinks  smoothie from my local Tesco. It started as a quick, refreshing habit packed with goodness before a workout. But one morning, as I sipped absentmindedly, I did something I had never done before. I read the label. "There are 13 types of vitamins you need to tick along nicely. Whilst it might not be the luckiest number scientists could have reached, your body is a huge fan. Which helps explain why this delicious super smoothie has so many of them in it. Six, to be exact. Lucky you."   I laughed. Then it hit me. I had bought hundreds of drinks in my life but had never really engaged with the packaging. On the other hand, Innocent made me stop, read, and, most importantly, smile. That's the genius of this brand. Innocent sells smoothies, but it also sells personality, connection, and a voice that feels like a funny friend. A Brand Born From a Festival Experiment: Innocent started in 1999 when three Cambridge graduates, Richard Reed, Adam Balon, and Jon Wright, set up a smoothie stall at a London music festival. Their marketing? A handwritten sign: "Should we quit our jobs to make these smoothies?" Next to their stall were two bins, one marked YES and one marked NO, where customers tossed empty bottles to vote. By the end of the weekend, the YES bin was overflowing. That was all the confirmation they needed. They quit their jobs the next day. Of course, turning a fun idea into a business wasn't easy. Hundreds of investors rejected them before they finally secured £250,000 from a wealthy businessman who believed in their vision. That bet paid off. An Effortless Branding: Most brands try too hard. Innocent never does. Instead of sterile health claims or corporate jargon, it leans on wit, simplicity, and authenticity. It doesn't just tell you it's good for you; it shows you with playful copy and an unmistakable tone of voice. That's why people stop to read the label, why a smoothie bottle can make you laugh. And why, in an industry full of forgettable brands, Innocent is impossible to ignore. A Business That Backs It Up: Of course, a quirky brand voice alone isn't enough. What makes Innocent truly work is that it walks the talk. They pledged 10% of their profits to charity, funding initiatives tackling hunger and food waste through the  Innocent Foundation . Sustainability is integral to the business. Every bottle is made from 100% recycled plastic, and they are working towards achieving full carbon neutrality. Then there's  The Big Knit , possibly the most unnecessary yet brilliant charity campaign ever. Every winter, Innocent smoothies wear tiny knitted hats, and for each one sold, they donate to Age UK to help keep the elderly warm. Completely unnecessary. Absolutely delightful. It's classic Innocent, turning something simple into something joyful. The Brand That Knows Exactly How to Talk to You While most brands treat social media like a never-ending ad campaign, Innocent does something different. It plays along with cultural moments, pokes fun at itself, and engages in a way that feels natural.  When the pressure of accountability hit, they tweeted: "When we said we wanted to be held, we didn't mean accountable." When New Year's resolutions started crumbling, they had this to say: "To anyone who is still doing their New Year resolution. You're better than us. Well done you." And for those who vowed to take a social media detox but inevitably returned: "Welcome back to everyone who said their New Year's resolution wasn't to be on social media." Even something as simple as the end of January got the Innocent treatment: "Hello everyone. Thank you for joining us on this 811th and final day of January." It works because they aren't  trying  to be funny. They just are. And that's why people engage, not because they're being asked to but because they  want  to. The Brand That Never Needed a Rebrand: For over two decades, Innocent has done something most brands struggle with: it has stayed relevant without ever changing who it is. Other brands constantly chase trends, tweaking their messaging to keep up. Innocent? It’s been cracking the same jokes, making great drinks, and doing the same good work since 1999. It never overthinks it. It never tries too hard. And that’s precisely why it works. Innocent wins by doing the opposite in an industry obsessed with shouting for attention. And that? That’s the kind of branding you actually want to take to the gym with you. Cheers! Akanksha

Image Credit: The Times Dear Reader 💜, A brand that has convinced millions of unimaginative people like me that they are, in fact, creative. A software so simple that even my mother, who still struggles with Instagram stories, can whip up a birthday party flyer in minutes. For years, if you needed a design, you had two frustrating options: either hire a designer and hope they understood your vision (while emptying your wallet in the process), or struggle with Adobe Photoshop, Illustrator, or InDesign, spending hours watching YouTube tutorials to move a single layer correctly. The latter, I can tell you from experience, was soul-destroying. Then  Canva  happened, and suddenly, everyone became a designer. Today, Canva has over 200 million users in 190 countries and is worth $48.7 billion. But this isn’t your regular tech success story. Unlike many companies that grow by limiting access to tools through costly subscriptions or by making design exclusive, Canva built its business by offering creativity for free. The Accidental Empire: Like all great ideas, Canva started with frustration. Back in 2008, Melanie Perkins was a university student in Australia, teaching her classmates how to use Adobe Photoshop. It was a nightmare: too many tools, too many steps, and too much time spent figuring out menus instead of actually creating them. That frustration turned into an idea: What if the design was simple? She teamed up with Cliff Obrecht, and together, they launched Fusion Books, an online platform for students to design their own yearbooks. It worked, but Perkins knew the potential was much bigger. Investors, however, didn’t see it. She pitched Canva for three years and got rejected over and over again. Everything changed in 2012 when Cameron Adams, an ex-Google engineer, joined as co-founder. With the right tech and a vision to democratise design, Canva launched in 2013, and within a year, it had 750,000 users. More Than Just a Business: Most startups focus on disruption. Canva focused on inclusion. While other companies charged premium prices for design software, Canva made its tools free for educators, students, and nonprofits. Millions of teachers now use Canva to create lesson plans and presentations, making learning more engaging for students, especially in underfunded schools where resources are scarce. For nonprofits, Canva became an innovator. The Canva Nonprofit Program allows charities to create professional marketing materials without paying for expensive design services. Fundraising campaigns, impact reports, and awareness graphics that once required a budget can now be made in minutes for free. For small businesses, Canva eliminated the need for expensive agencies. A local bakery, an independent fitness trainer, or a solo entrepreneur can now build their brand, create social media ads, and design packaging, all without a graphic designer. Canva also pledged 30% of its equity to the Canva Foundation, using its success to fund education, poverty alleviation, and humanitarian aid. It has already donated $12 million to disaster relief and has partnered with UNESCO to improve digital literacy worldwide. The Bigger Picture:  Canva didn’t just make design easier; it made opportunity accessible. It handed creative power to people who never had it before. For a teacher in a rural school, it means creating visually engaging lessons without a budget. For a social media manager, it means launching a business overnight. For a nonprofit, it means reaching thousands more people without spending a single penny. For a local café, it means designing menus, ads, and branding in minutes without a designer. For an aspiring entrepreneur, it means building a business with nothing but an internet connection. For millions of everyday people, it means the freedom to create without limitations, without barriers, and without needing anyone’s permission. The Lesson for Businesses Canva didn’t win by hoarding value; it won by sharing it. While most companies gatekeep innovation behind paywalls, Canva gave people the tools to succeed for free. While other startups chased disruption, Canva built accessibility, impact, and generosity into its business model. It’s proof that giving people the power to create is good for the world and business. Maybe that’s the real takeaway here. The brands that stand the test of time won’t be the ones that extract the most but the ones that empower the most. Cheers! Akanksha

Image Credit: The Times For decades, banking has been stiff, impersonal, and wrapped in a wall of jargon. Traditional banks built trust through authority, but let's be honest, that authority often felt cold, corporate, and completely out of touch. Then came  Monzo Bank  . Launched in 2015 with its eye-catching coral debit card and a refreshingly user-friendly app, Monzo was a disruptor. A lifestyle brand disguised as a financial institution. A bank that didn't just process transactions but actually  talked  to its customers. And nowhere is that difference more obvious than on social media. While other banks play it safe with scripted statements and half-hearted attempts at engagement, Monzo has built an entire identity around being fun, human, and ridiculously relatable. A Bank That Sounds Like a Friend Most banks sound like… well, banks. Their social media is packed with polished corporate statements, cautious PR-approved messaging, and the occasional half-hearted attempt at reliability.  Monzo, on the other hand, talks like the internet. Scroll through its TikTok or Instagram, and you'll find memes about payday struggles, jokes about budgeting, and playful jabs at impulsive spending. It's a far cry from high-street banks' stiff, robotic tone.  Even on LinkedIn, a platform traditionally dominated by professional updates, Monzo takes a refreshingly human approach. It's a strategy rooted in understanding. Instead of lecturing customers about money, Monzo meets them where they are online, scrolling through feeds filled with pop culture references, viral trends, and humour. It's banking but without the suit and tie. Building a Bank That Feels Like a Community Monzo's social media is not only about engagement but also about inclusion. Unlike traditional banks, which make decisions behind closed doors, Monzo has always included customers in the conversation. Early on, it used crowdfunding to raise capital, allowing customers to become investors. Today, its social platforms serve as an open forum where users provide feedback, share complaints, and even influence product features. Instead of treating customers as passive account holders, Monzo positions them as active participants in its growth. The Year in Monzo  campaign is a perfect example. Designed as a fun, interactive year-in-review, it gave users a personalised breakdown of their spending habits. It was a hit until some customers found categories like "X-rated purchases" a little too revealing. Rather than brushing off the backlash, Monzo did what it does best: it listened, adjusted, and responded with humour. This ability to blend fun with genuine responsiveness is what keeps Monzo ahead in digital engagement. It understands that customers don't just want a bank that works; they want a brand that  gets  them. The Fine Line Between Relatable and Risky But being "the funny bank" comes with its own challenges. While Monzo's casual, internet-savvy voice has built loyalty, some customers have begun questioning whether it risks leaning too far into entertainment at the expense of credibility. Reddit users have debated whether Monzo's playful branding makes it feel less like a financial institution and more like a tech startup trying to be cool. And in an industry where trust is paramount, that's a fine line to walk. Because, at the end of the day, banking is about security. Customers might love a brand that jokes about avocado toast budgets but also want to know their money is safe. If Monzo's tone ever starts feeling more like a marketing gimmick than a genuine reflection of its values, it could face the same fate as brands that tried too hard to stay trendy, only to lose relevance when the novelty wore off. The Future of Banking on Social Media For now, Monzo's approach is working. Its ability to mix humour with customer engagement has created a playbook that legacy banks are scrambling to replicate. But the question remains: can Monzo maintain this balance as it scales? It will remain a powerful force in digital banking if it can blend transparency, humour, and real-time responsiveness without losing sight of its core offering. But if it veers too far into being a  personality  rather than a  bank , it risks alienating customers who ultimately want financial security more than witty tweets. One thing is clear: the days of banks talking  at  customers are over. The brands that thrive will be the ones that know how to speak  with  them. And right now, Monzo is proving that a little humour and a lot of humanity go a long way.

Image Credit: The Times Once a status symbol for executives and professionals worldwide, BlackBerry is now a shadow of its former self. The brand redefined mobile communication, pioneering secure email and popularising the QWERTY keyboard. At its peak in 2008, BlackBerry held over 50% of the U.S. smartphone market and 20% globally. Yet, within a few short years, it fell from grace, overtaken by Apple and Android. How did this happen, and what can it teach us about the world of technology? Innovation, Then Stagnation BlackBerry's dominance was built on its appeal to the corporate world. Its robust security features and tactile keyboards made it indispensable for business users. However, the launch of Apple's iPhone in 2007 was pivotal. The iPhone offered something BlackBerry dismissed: a touch interface, apps, and a focus on the consumer experience. While BlackBerry executives downplayed the iPhone as a fad, the world was moving on. The company clung to its core audience, business professionals, and neglected the consumer market. Its refusal to embrace the touchscreen revolution seemed increasingly out of step with the demands of modern users. The result? A catastrophic loss of relevance as Android and Apple devices surged ahead. Missteps in Strategy BlackBerry's attempt to play catch-up with the launch of the touchscreen BlackBerry Storm in 2008 only compounded its problems. The device was riddled with software issues and was clunky to use. Instead of reinvigorating the brand, it highlighted how far behind BlackBerry had fallen. Competitors like Samsung and Apple delivered seamless, intuitive experiences, while BlackBerry was stuck in the past. Another major miscalculation was the company's overreliance on the corporate market. While its competitors were tapping into the exploding consumer demand for smartphones, BlackBerry doubled down on its enterprise clientele. It failed to see that the lines between work and personal life were blurring and that consumer preferences were beginning to drive business decisions. The Decline in Market Share The numbers tell a grim story. In 2009, BlackBerry was still a major player, holding a significant global smartphone market share. However, as Android and iOS devices became the norm, BlackBerry's market share shrank to almost nothing by 2016. The brand that once set the standard for mobile innovation was now seen as a relic of a bygone era. The Pivot to Software Recognising its inability to compete in hardware, BlackBerry shifted its focus to software and cybersecurity. In 2016, it ceased manufacturing smartphones and sold its brand to other manufacturers. While the move helped the company survive, it never regained its former prominence. In 2019, BlackBerry acquired the cybersecurity firm Cylance for $1.4 billion, positioning itself as a player in the security space. But even this pivot has faced challenges. As of October 2024, BlackBerry is reportedly exploring options for its Cylance division, signalling ongoing struggles to find a clear identity in the tech world. Lessons from BlackBerry's Fall BlackBerry's story reminds us how quickly fortunes can change in the tech industry. Complacency and overreliance on past successes left it unprepared for seismic consumer behaviour and technology shifts. It sets an example for any company resting on its laurels: standing still is not an option, especially in a world that moves as fast as tech. Today, BlackBerry is a much-diminished entity. A brand that once ruled the mobile world, it now operates mainly behind the scenes in software and security. BlackBerry's legacy, however, is powerful. It paved the way for the modern smartphone era, and even if it couldn't keep pace with it, it helped start it. BlackBerry and many others wonder whether it can learn from its mistakes and evolve again. For now, its story serves as a sobering reminder that no market leader is too big to fail.

Image Credit: The Times Once a trailblazer in ethical retail, The Body Shop's fall from grace is a case study of how even the most beloved brands can lose their way. Founded by the inimitable Anita Roddick in 1976, The Body Shop grew from a quirky Brighton boutique to a global symbol of activism and ethical consumerism. Yet today, it finds itself closing stores and facing allegations of financial mismanagement. What happened, and what lessons can brands take away? A Pioneer in Ethical Business Anita Roddick didn't just build a business; she sparked a movement. The Body Shop's cruelty-free, environmentally conscious ethos struck a chord in an industry dominated by indulgence and excess. Roddick's commitment to "business as a force for good" inspired countless entrepreneurs. She didn't just sell body butter and Kiwi lip balms; she sold a vision of a better world. Her values-driven leadership made The Body Shop a household name. She pioneered concepts like CV-less hiring and bold campaigns like "Against Animal Testing." By the time the brand went public in 1984, it was worth millions, and its products, cucumber cleansers and shea butter lotions, were cultural staples for a generation. Yet, as competitors like Lush emerged and ethical business became mainstream, The Body Shop faced a new challenge: staying relevant while staying true to its roots. Selling to L'Oréal Roddick's 2006 sale of The Body Shop to L'Oréal for £652m shocked loyalists. How could the champion of green ethics align with a conglomerate criticised for animal testing? Roddick justified the decision, calling it "the best 30th-anniversary gift" for the brand. L'Oréal's resources propelled rapid expansion to over 2,400 stores across 61 countries. But with scale came compromises. Customers noticed a shift. The once-rebellious brand began to lean on discounts, and its distinctiveness waned. According to YouGov, consumer satisfaction plummeted under L'Oréal's stewardship. As Lush co-founder Mark Constantine said, "You can't cheapen everything, remove the values, and take more profit without the customers noticing." A String of Owners and Mixed Strategies L'Oréal sold The Body Shop to Brazil's Natura & Co in 2017. While this seemed like a natural fit, the acquisition didn't translate into sustainable growth. Natura struggled with the European market and failed to invest adequately. Rising interest rates and global challenges led Natura to offload the brand to private equity firm Aurelius for just £207m in 2023. Under successive ownership, The Body Shop's market positioning became muddled. Each leadership team brought new strategies, but the lack of a consistent vision left customers confused and alienated. Retail analyst Richard Hyman noted, "The business was successively acquired by big companies that paid too much, leaving owners reluctant to invest further. Abandoning Core Values The Body Shop's' missteps highlight the risks of abandoning core values. As Henley Business School's' Adrian Palmer explains, the brand fell victim to the "wheel of retailing," where initial innovation gave way to complacency. Its once-distinctive ethos and products became commonplace, and newer competitors chipped away at its market share. In trying to please everyone, new owners, shareholders, and discount-seeking consumers—The Body Shop lost sight of its identity. This is a stark reminder that reputation and trust are hard-won but easily lost. The Body Shop Today The Body Shop is closing 75 UK stores while MPs call for an investigation into its collapse. This is a sobering moment for a brand that once prided itself on being a "good example" in the cosmetics industry. Roddick's legacy, however, remains a beacon for businesses trying to balance profit with purpose. Her vision of an ethical, impactful business is more relevant than ever in today's competitive and values-driven market. As the brand grapples with its future, The Body Shop's story reminds us of a simple truth: pursuing profit should never come at the cost of purpose.  For brands, the question is not just what you sell but how you choose to show up. Cheers! Akanksha