It’s hard to believe that the same people who are behind the super-strong brand identities of Banana Republic and Old Navy are making such bad decisions for Gap. One, they scrapped a logo that was fine to begin with—it was clean, well-proportioned, and, perhaps most importantly, recognizable. Two, they replaced that logo with one that is not only badly designed but generic—a thousand other companies probably have a similar logo, and most of those companies probably repair computers, pack boxes or, who knows, push thumbtacks. Three, they immediately put that badly designed logo in effect and then asked consumers for their design ideas. Four, they… well, I’m not sure what four is, but considering the decisions they’ve made thus far, chances are, it’s coming.

I’ve always been loyal to Gap. But their flaky decision-making on something as critical as brand identity makes me question their entire business model. Yesterday, following the intense consumer backlash, the company stated that they’re “thrilled to see passionate debates unfolding,” but if they knew how incompetent this makes them look, I don’t think they’d be so thrilled.

Brand identity is not just about design. It starts with a design, and that design says something about who you are and distinguishes you from others, but as you build relationships the design becomes you. It’s how people recognize you. Over time, it’s why they trust you.

Dear Gap,

Thanks,
Mojan

The smart, quirky, rock band—that made one of the most delightful music videos ever—recently held a logo-design contest for their new USB drive. I submitted two entries, both of which are highly unlikely to win, but what’s great about design contests is that, since I haven’t invested in an outcome, I allow myself to experiment and let go.

The ideas I generate during this kind of exercise don’t go to waste, either. There’s a good chance I’ll go back to these concepts for a future project, because they each have a little something-something that can be utilized again, whether it’s a color scheme, typeface, or technique.

I recently entered a logo-design contest for a new company in North Carolina that guides restoration of natural ecosystems and historic homes. Most of the other entries were flat, simple, abstracted—and many of them quite good. I didn’t think it made sense to give the company another abstracted option when they had so many good ones to choose from already, so instead I went a different route and designed a more detailed, illustrative logo.

When you know nothing about your client, it’s impossible to know what they’re looking for, but I was excited to give them an illustrated option that felt like a smart cross between traditional and modern—hello, “restoration!”—and perhaps even stand out in a sea of two-color logos.