Why Fashion Brands Rebranded to Sanserif

Logo Wars: the Sans Serif Epidemic and the Paradox of Modern Luxury

written by Shze Hui Tjoa and Foivos Dousos

At the end of 2018, Balmain became the latest in a long listing of way houses to unveil its new logo.

To no i's surprise, this logo looks extremely similar to the other revamps that we have seen this year. From Balenciaga and Burberry, to Berluti and YSL, brands beyond the lath have put aside serifed fonts in favour of a new standard: sans-serif capitals.

This shift intends to communicate a change in the brands' core prototype: from the fussiness of old-world luxury, to a fresher and simpler ethos. At the same fourth dimension, the logos retain some hints of tradition by using elongated letters (that 'tower over' all else), and block capitals (that recall the vocalism of authorisation).

More broadly, however, the sector's turn towards sans-serif logos reflects a wider alter in how our culture thinks well-nigh — and visualises — luxury.

Traditionally, luxury has been almost the flamboyant and conspicuous display of wealth. Products with college quality were expected to be more visually distinctive, so every bit to send out a clear and immediate point about their user's status. Think about the number of shiny, golden, or bejeweled objects yous are likely to find in a high-cease department shop: from Tiffany appointment rings to Dolce & Gabbana lipstick, most traditional luxury goods continue to equate visual flash with intrinsic production quality.

But over the last few years, this equation has started to suspension downward as the sector widens to include more semi-premium (or 'premium-mediocre') brands. Across luxury categories, smaller brands have started to copy archetype 'looks' to describe consumers' attention, while offering them lower prices — think of how Michael Kors' monogram-printed bags nod to the design conventions of bodily powerhouses, similar Hermes and Gucci, while costing a fraction of the price.

Superficial glamour has, thus, get less and less of a distinguishing gene for genuinely loftier-end brands. These brands are now scrambling to observe another fashion of announcing their presence, in an increasingly saturated category where 'all flourish is equal'.

This is where the sans-serif logotypes come in. Past stripping their logos of flourish, brands such every bit Balmain are purporting to overturn the usual equation between external brandish and internal quality, which one time defined the category.

In some ways, they are taking their lead from comparator brands like Brandless™ and Dazzler Pie, who operate in the margins of the luxury sector while overturning its logic. Co-ordinate to these disruptors, producing a sheen of branded glamour means making 'inefficient and unnecessary markups' in the proper name of self-promotion. In recognition of this, they spend the blank minimum on ostentatious visual branding, opting instead for unproblematic jars, sans-serif font and plain packaging — implying that their resources take been diverted from the task of self-promotion, and spent more than productively elsewhere: on improving product quality.

In an oversaturated visual landscape, simplicity is becoming the new hot ticket because of what it implies: less flash, and more substance. Particularly in the world of luxury — where definitions of 'quality' can seem completely fluid and subjective — simplicity lends some gravitas to the brands that adopt it, positioning them equally trustworthy authorities in a globe full of fraud.

If sans-serif represents ane response to the crowded luxury space, it is not the merely one. Not all luxury brands are adopting markers of simplicity to distinguish themselves; instead, a number of them have not only re-centralised their historical logos, but are too starting to play upwardly and gloat their hyperbolic campness.

In recent years, classic luxury brands (similar Gucci and Chanel) have made ironic reiterations of their logos, in products that not merely make fun of luxury'south cultural significance, but also play around with ideas of originality and authenticity. Gucci's Alessandro Michele went equally far as re-appropriating the inventiveness of counterfeit products, introducing a line of apparel under the 'misnomer' of Guccy.

This is part of a broader brand strategy of overstatement, which spans a number of leading-edge brands — from Alessandro Michele'south ode to plagiarism, to Supreme'due south overbranded enthusiasm. Rather than dialing back on flamboyance, these brands instead comprehend hyper-visible luxury, touting an over-the-top, photogenic version of wealth fit for the rich kids of Instagram. As the luxury sector gets more and more crowded, they take decided to identify their bet on outdoing the tendency, rather than bucking it: cranking upwardly the razzle-dazzle quality of their visuals and humour, rather than opting for inconspicuous austerity.

In many means, they are pushing the traditional idea of luxury to its breaking bespeak — so much so that they cease upwardly parodying information technology through flamboyance, silliness, hyper-dramatism, and theatricality. But how much longevity does this brand strategy have, in our electric current political moment? Given that consumers are hungry for earnest solutions to their collective problems (similar global warming, international conflict, and most pertinently for luxury brands, socio-economic division) — peradventure these brands end up actualization similar the violin quartet on the sinking Titanic: offering a terminal moment of extravagant fun, before the inevitable collapse.

In summary, we can understand why luxury brands accept become caught up in a 'race towards sans-serif' by looking at the broader shifts going on within the sector. Whether they are evolving their logo or sticking to their historical guns, every luxury make is striving hard for stand-out inside a hyper-crowded, and increasingly democratised, landscape — rushing to accrue what seems to be the 'right' cultural uppercase, to have their brand forward into the future.