Let us begin with a warning
Rebranding is not for the faint-hearted.
It will test your patience, your priorities, and the tensile strength of your company Wi-Fi. It will involve whiteboards. It will involve legacy PowerPoints. It will involve disturbingly intense meetings about kerning.
Rebranding is not a sprint. It’s not a marathon.
It’s a full-blown brand ultramarathon, run through an active construction site, while blindfolded, carrying a suspiciously heavy stack of legal approvals.
Chapter One: The Sudden Realisation of Irrelevance
It begins quietly. A lingering discomfort. A creeping shame. Someone opens a pitch deck and winces. Someone else prints the logo and mutters, “Is this still our colour?”
A third person finally says it out loud: “I think our brand might be... holding us back.”
Cue nervous laughter. An impromptu “audit.” A casual conversation with Marketing that somehow leads to eight people in a Zoom call titled Rebrand_Chat_JustExploring_v1.
At this stage, there’s no commitment. Just murmurs of “refresh” and “tightening things up a bit.” No one dares say total overhaul yet. But we’ve seen this before.
At Thinkable, this is our natural habitat. We’re ready to step in quietly, asking thoughtful questions and gently steering the conversation away from “maybe we just need a new font.”
Chapter Two: The Briefing (Or, The Flirting)
This is the phase where everyone pretends they’re not rebranding. “We just want to see what’s possible.”
“It’s more of a refresh.”
“Nothing too radical, just... a complete identity shift.”
The briefing is a sacred ritual. A mysterious mix of ambition, anxiety, and phrases like “elevated but grounded,” “premium yet accessible,” and the eternal classic: “Make it pop.”
We nod. We scribble. We ask questions like, “What does success look like to you?” and “What do you want people to feel?”, then decode answers like “Just... not what we have now.”
It’s early days, but we’re already assembling the emotional scaffolding for what’s to come. We listen. We translate. We scribble some more.
Chapter Three: The Boardroom Plot Twist
We begin. The team’s aligned, and the OneDrives are connected. Things are moving quickly. And then, it happens.
The rogue board member returns. They haven’t attended a meeting since 2018. But today, they have thoughts. Big ones.
They begin with, “I’ve always felt the logo should be more... aspirational,” and end with a demand to incorporate a kiwi, a compass, or ideally both.
You nod. You write it down. You light a candle for the creative team.
We adjust the workshop agenda. We don’t panic, we redirect. Herding opinions, extracting actual intent, and helping turn compasses into strategic metaphors. Or sometimes icons. It depends.
Chapter Four: The Strategy Bit (The Existential Excavation)
This is where things get serious. This is where we go spelunking into the very soul of your business to ask the difficult, strategic questions: What do you do? Why should anyone care? Why do you have six logos and three different taglines?
This is the part where we define your point of difference, your position in the market, and the emotional GPS coordinates you want to occupy in people’s brains. And yes, brand architecture. The part where everyone remembers there are six sub-brands, four product categories, and a partnership logo no one wants but can’t get rid of.
Are we a house of brands? A branded house? Or a bach at the beach with a big deck? No one knows. Everyone has opinions.
This is where brands either sharpen or splinter.
We’re here to prevent the splintering. We act as strategic glue and turn this glorious mess into something sharp and strategic, a guiding narrative. An actual direction, rather than just vibes.
In short: we do the thinking before the inking. Revolutionary, we know.