Because One Day, Someone You’ll Never Meet Will Live With What You Left Behind
We like to think the future is something that just happens. But really, it’s something we’re building—bit by bit, post by post, decision by decision.
And most of what we’re making? Won’t stay in the past.
It’ll live on in ways we can’t predict. In algorithms that echo. In ideas that stick around longer than we do. In the systems, stories, and shortcuts we hand down—without even realizing it.
So here’s the uncomfortable truth:
The future is going to live in the world we leave behind. And that world is shaped by what we create right now.
Think Bigger Than the Feed
Most of us create for the moment. We optimize for reach. For relevance. For right now.
But the real question is:
Would you still make it if your great-grandkid was watching? Would you be proud if they found it? Or would you say, “We didn’t know better back then”?
Because the truth is—we do know better. We just don’t always act like it.
A Simple Thought Experiment
Picture this: A kid stumbles on your work a hundred years from now. Your product. Your code. Your writing. Your name.
What do they learn about you? What do they learn about us?
Do they feel seen? Or disappointed? Inspired—or embarrassed?
Not Legacy. Just Responsibility.
This isn’t about being perfect. It’s not about writing the next great novel or building the next Apple
It’s about doing your job like it matters. Making your thing like someone else might one day rely on it. Because they might.
Whether it’s a clean API, an honest message, a brand that chooses people over profit— it all adds up.
And someone will inherit the sum.
So Here’s the Deal
✅ Make stuff that’s built to last. ✅ Say the thing others are afraid to say. ✅ Leave behind something that doesn’t need to be explained away. ✅ If it’s not helpful or honest, maybe don’t hit publish.
✅ Stop making a digital landfill. Most of the internet—especially social media and brand content—is an endless dump of noise, not signal. Don’t add to the trash. ✅ And when you’re not sure what to do—imagine someone younger than you reading it in 50 years.
Create like you’re going to be misunderstood now—but deeply appreciated later. Because sometimes, later is the point.
Create for the unborn. Not for claps. Not for clicks. For the ones who have to live with what we leave behind.
Adidas didn’t run a campaign. They performed a ritual: — Erase the sacred — Replace it with spectacle, replace it with nonsense — Watch the cameras roll
Art Gets Denied. Ads Get Airspace.
Oscar-nominated director Yorgos Lanthimos was denied access to film at the Acropolis. But Adidas? They get prime time, front row to eternity—no questions asked.
Because in this new Greece: If you tell stories, you wait. If you sell shoes, the sky is yours.
Who’s Really Behind the Curtain?
Let’s be clear: Adidas didn’t do this alone. They had help—from the local agency and brand teams who knew the terrain, looped the loopholes, and signed off.
Let’s name what this is: Cultural laundering.
They didn’t just drop drones. They laundered visibility through heritage—and turned sacred space into a hype reel.
To the Greek agency who helped this happen: You didn’t elevate the brand. You sold your history for a case study.
To the marketers who called this visionary: You don’t understand legacy. You understand reach.
This Wasn’t Creativity. It Was Cowardice.
Agencies love to posture about purpose, storytelling, culture. But when faced with power, they fold.
Because it’s easier to fly a logo over the Acropolis than to build meaning that lasts.
The Real Cost of the Campaign
€380. That’s all it took to dim the light of Athena.
That’s not clever. That’s not disruptive. That’s desperate.
If we sell our myths for the price of a sneaker, What will we have left When the batteries die?
The gods didn’t leave us. We traded them.
For impressions. For metrics. For branded content.
The Parthenon glows now—not with truth or triumph—but with product.
So maybe the sneaker in the sky dominating the news today was no accident. Maybe this is a way to deflect public opinions. Maybe it’s just branding catching up with politics. A culture where everything sacred is for sale, and everyone with power is off the record.
The question is no longer “How did this happen?” It’s:
What haven’t we sold yet?If our myths, monuments, and morals are all for sale—what does it even mean to be a nation?
Jaguar’s failed rebrand reveals more than bad creative. It exposes the cowardice of brand leadership.
Jaguar’s latest campaign said, “Copy Nothing.” But what they launched copied one thing perfectly: the corporate tradition of blaming the agency when leadership gets it wrong.
No cars. No curves. No roar. Just abstract visuals, minimalist slogans, and a branding exercise so out of touch, even Elon Musk publicly mocked it. The campaign was lambasted as empty, confusing, and emotionally tone-deaf. A luxury car brand… that showed no cars.
This isn’t about a bad campaign. This is about a broken model—one where agencies are hired as scapegoats, not strategic partners.
In today’s brand world, storytelling is strategy. The brief is the vision. If that vision is flawed, no amount of creative genius can salvage it. You can’t out-art direct a confused identity.
And Jaguar’s identity right now? A luxury brand sprinting toward electric futurism while ghosting its legacy, its product, and its soul.
What did they expect the agency to do—turn vapor into velocity?
When the Brief Is Rotten, the Brand Fails
Let’s be clear: agencies aren’t perfect. But they don’t control the product, the pricing, or the internal politics. They don’t choose whether the car appears in the campaign. That comes from the client.
Gap’s rebrand? Same story—designers got burned, execs stayed quiet.
Tropicana’s disaster? Agencies got the blame, even though the client forced the change.
Agencies don’t greenlight madness. They’re handed it.
The Cowardice of Creative Blame
What we’re watching isn’t just a brand misstep. It’s a case study in corporate cowardice. A company trying to reinvent itself—without the courage to own its decisions.
The truth? Jaguar’s problem isn’t the ad agency. It’s that the people steering the ship don’t know what destination they’re heading toward—so they blame the compass when they get lost.
A New Standard for Brand Leadership
We need to stop letting executives escape through the back door while their agencies are thrown under the bus.
If you brief it, own it. If you approve it, stand by it. If you kill it, don’t outsource the executioner.
Because marketing isn’t a magic trick. It’s an expression of vision. And when a rebrand collapses, it’s not the messenger who failed—it’s the strategist who didn’t know what they stood for.
Final Words:
If the story sucks, don’t shoot the storyteller. Fire the author.
