Why I had an Identity Crisis at Sea (And What It Means for Everything)
Intimacy, Luxury and what it means for brands to create moments that matter...
Three things occurred this month that made me question everything I thought I knew about belonging, identity, and how brands actually work.
One involved me in a sequined jumpsuit.
One involves a croquet lawn in Somerset.
One involves something I'm probably mad to attempt.
Let's start with the sequins.
The Virgin Revelation
I just got back from a Virgin Voyages cruise.
Yes, me. The person who has spent a decade critiquing experiential design. Voluntarily trapped on a floating entertainment complex with 2,800 strangers for a week.
The irony wasn't lost on me as I packed my "Scarlet Night" outfit. Virgin's answer to formal night, except everyone dresses like they're heading to an expensive nightclub rather than the captain's table.
Here's what happened: I had the time of my life.
And I'm already booking next year.
This wasn't because Virgin has reinvented cruising. Other lines do the Broadway-meets-buffet spectacle as well or better. What got me was something far more subtle and infinitely more interesting from a brand perspective.
You become a Virgin Sailor.
That's what they call you. Through some mysterious alchemy of self-selection and shared experience, by day two you genuinely feel it.
I've always considered myself reasonably outgoing. Apparently there was more shell for me to come out of. I may have been first into the pool during Scarlet Night, channeling what I can only describe as my inner go-go boy alter ego.
The photos exist. My mother has been blocked from seeing them.
But here's the fascinating part: everyone else was doing the same thing.
Grown adults buying cruise-specific outfits. Investing in gold bracelet accessories to upgrade their basic wristbands. Planning return voyages before they'd even unpacked.
This wasn't customer satisfaction. This was tribal initiation.
Which made me wonder: is it the service Virgin provides that creates this reaction, or the community it facilitates?
The answer reveals something crucial about where luxury is heading.
The Loneliness Epidemic Nobody Talks About
Quick detour into some rather sobering data that explains why the Virgin thing works so well.
We live in the most connected era in human history. Yet one in five Americans wakes up feeling profoundly alone. That's 52 million people navigating their days with an emotional dial tone where their sense of belonging should be.
Among young adults, the ones supposedly drowning in digital connection, 30% report daily loneliness. The health impact? Equivalent to smoking fifteen cigarettes a day, according to the Surgeon General.
The traditional scaffolding of belonging has been systematically dismantled. Churches, unions, neighbourhood pubs, even extended families. When researchers ask Americans where they feel genuine community, only 20% mention their actual neighbourhoods. Online communities barely register at 3%.
We've traded messy intimacy for frictionless alienation.
Enter brands like Virgin Voyages. They understand their real product isn't entertainment. It's temporary membership in a tribe that recognizes you.
They're selling the experience of being the kind of person who goes on Virgin cruises. It's brilliant. And it validates everything I wrote about storyliving versus storytelling.
Brands that let you inhabit an identity beat brands that tell you about products.
Every single time.
The Somerset Masterclass
Speaking of predictions I'm definitely being immodest about: I called the end of beach club season before anyone else was paying attention.
Last summer's Mediterranean takeover tour was spectacular and successful. Dior's Dioriviera, Valentino's pink paradise, Louis Vuitton's seaside soirées. Democratized luxury, infinite content opportunities, the works.
But while everyone's still copying that playbook, the smartest brands moved on months ago.
Enter Burberry's Somerset coup at The Newt hotel.
While competitors chase Santorini sunsets, Daniel Lee's team orchestrated something far more sophisticated: hyperlocal inheritance fantasy.
British drizzle as atmospheric theatre. Croquet lawns mowed into signature check patterns. Hot air balloons that nod to the brand's 1908 heritage outfitting balloonists.
This isn't a brand activation. It's neurological programming.
Every tactile moment gets filed in your brain under "this is who I am" rather than "this is what I want." Damp towel against skin after a swim in their branded lake. Grass beneath bare feet on their custom lawn. The satisfying weight of a vintage racquet.
They're convincing your nervous system you've always had a British summer.
The genius lies in understanding that luxury's new currency isn't aspiration. It's familiarity. We're moving toward experiences that feel like recovered memories rather than purchased moments.
Somerset over Santorini. Memory over moment. Diary entries over billboards.
The future belongs to brands brave enough to get specific while everyone else chases global. Most won't have the courage. Which makes the opportunity that much more interesting for those who do.
From Beach Club to Clubhouse
What we're witnessing is luxury market segmentation on neurological lines.
Beach clubs deliver visibility and access. Perfect for brands building awareness.
But for brands building devotion? The intimate takeover wins every time.
This validates everything I've been tracking about hyperspecificity beating cosmopolitanism. Sometimes being right is exhausting. More often, it's deeply satisfying.
Practice What You Preach
After a decade of building strategies for other people's brands, I've decided to put my theories to the test.
There’s a particular kind of professional agony when; you spend months researching, developing strategies, having department heads nod sagely to the merit of your recommendations and… What them be shelved for all kinds of reasons. Mostly inertia.
So I thought why not put my money where my mouth is?
I'm considering launching a fragrance label. Possibly for Xmas ~
I know what you're thinking. The world doesn't need another celebrity fragrance. You're absolutely right. But that's precisely what this isn't.
This is a working thesis, field notes in practice. Small, intentional, personal.
Everything I believe about how brands should behave, distilled into something you can actually experience.
If you've been reading my work, you know I believe the future of luxury is deeply intimate and hyperspecific. That brands should feel like recovered memories. That the best products affirm who you already believe yourself to be.
So what would that look like as a fragrance house?
I'm genuinely curious what you think. Limited releases or broader collections? More intellectual provocation or pure sensual pleasure?
For my fellow fragrance obsessives, I've put together a survey. Five minutes of your thoughts would genuinely shape what gets made. Because the best brands don't just talk about community. They build it from day one.
Your input will directly influence everything from packaging philosophy to scent direction. Consider it beta testing for brand intimacy.
What Connects These Stories
The teenager logging off social media. The Virgin Sailor finding their tribe. The Burberry guest feeling at home in Somerset.
They share one craving: experiences that acknowledge their full humanity rather than just their purchasing power.
The intimacy economy rewards brands that understand bodies rather than just buying patterns. That create meaning rather than just transactions.
The revolution has already arrived. It's embodied in every gesture of genuine care that transforms commerce into community.
What's Coming
Next week: why airport lounges have become luxury retail laboratories, and what I learnt during my recent reasearch for consultancy for a luxury whiskey brand.
Also coming: my controversial take on why subscription models are killing brand desire, and a deep dive into the psychology of waiting lists.
Until then, keep making things that matter.
Kristoff
P.S. ~ If you enjoyed this, the kindest thing you can do is share it with someone who'd appreciate the perspective. Growing this newsletter through genuine recommendations means everything to me.
The Experience Design Almanac explores where commerce meets culture. Written from wherever good design thinking happens. New editions every Tuesday.
Can't wait to see the uncensored sequined-Kristoff pic