The story of the Orange

Welcome back! Many new readers joined this email list last week. Makes me happy that my writing resonates. Thank you for recommending this newsletter to your friends and colleagues, it means a lot to me ♡

But for today I got something very different to share. It might read a bit messy because it's straight from my mind, but I hope you enjoy the read.

How the Orange came to be

As a designer, I try inject meaning into everything I touch (I wrote about this the other week).

Sometimes that meaning is right there in your face changing how you see the work, and sometimes it's buried deep where nobody but me will ever find it (until I tell you about it, so keep reading :).

I need this kind of meaning in my work, like an anchor to keep me grounded and on my path. Without it I'd just be another designer pushing pixels around a screen, floating on fleeting trends into nowhere. That just isn't enough for me.

As you might already know: I'm the co-founder of this app called mymind. Not just another app, but my obsession for the past five years. The mymind brand is very personal to me. I've had my hands deep in its brand language since day one, shaping every curve, every color, every element of how it presents itself to the world — it's truly my baby.

When we started working on mymind we had a simple goal: mymind should feel like a happy brand. As simple as that sounds, it's not that easy.

While working on the new branding, I refused to create another one of those relentlessly cheerful brands that feel like they're compensating for something. I didn't want the childish, rainbow-colored visual sugar high kind of brand. You know what I mean. The world's already drowning in corporate brands desperately waving their arms screaming "Look how fun we are, LOL!"

I imagined mymind to radiate genuine warmth while maintaining a certain curious, introspective edge. A bit like that friend who's always happy to see you but won't hesitate to tell you when you're full of shit. A brand that could smile without smirking, that could welcome you without pandering to you. Something with emotional depth that doesn't insult your intelligence. As you may notice, I'm even struggling to explain it here while I'm aimlessly indulging in the obsessive madness of wrapping a feeling into words. But I hope this gives you the necessary context on how much I tend to think about the smallest things. It's part of the branding exercise for me.

The mymind brand shouldn't look out of place in MoMA but also doesn't take itself too seriously. That's what we needed. Bold enough to stand its ground, but warm enough that you'd actually want to spend time with it.

Sometimes the answers aren't found in design books or professional research, but in your own history. As I worked on solving the problem, a seemingly insignificant memory from ~18 years earlier suddenly took on a new meaning. The kind of strange connection that makes you believe in fate.

One of my earliest mentors shared a story with me that has stayed with me ever since:

As a Creative Director, he had a ritual. Every time he delivered a major pitch to a client he wore his special “orange shirt.” That shirt, he said, made him feel like the most creative, confident and joyful version of himself. It became his secret ingredient, a symbol of his best self. He wouldn’t step into a presentation without wearing his "happy shirt."

And now, years later while working on the branding for mymind, a smile came to my face as I remembered this simple story.

I knew in this moment that mymind had to be orange because it reflected not only everything my mentor Juergen sees in it, but a color tethered to a memory that actually meant something to me. That's the thing about meaningful choices. They're not choices at all, but recognitions of what was already true.

I love when things you design connect in their own ways across your experiences and personal references. For me, design without narrative is just decoration. Empty calories, a pointless exercise in visual masturbation (although fun and indulgent at times, sure).

But everything good needs a story, a reason to exist. Whether anyone else catches these references or not is beside the point. They're the invisible thread that runs through your entire body of work.

But here's the thing about this story: I've always been somewhat skeptical of the metaphysical. But this story of my mentor Juergen and his happy shirt feels different. There's something raw and honest about it. What started as Juergen's ritual has now become part of our own brand mythology.

The truth is, these rituals aren't just sentimental bullshit, they're functional tools that reshape reality.

Tell yourself that orange shirt is your "happy shirt" enough times, and goddammit, you actually feel different wearing it. Your brain rewires itself around the story. Thoughts crystallize into something tangible. This is the secret behind great brands. They're storytelling vehicles. It's repetition rooted in a core vision. Keep saying the same thing over and over again until it becomes reality.

The mymind orange is part of that core for us. Every time myself or my team is working on the brand, you're not just designing; you're continuing a narrative that started years ago. The skeptics will roll their eyes at "manifestation" or "law of attraction," but I truly believe that this is the secret behind work that lasts.

Maybe for you, it's something entirely different. A color that triggers a memory, a typeface that reminds you of a forgotten sign in some back alley of Barcelona, an illustration style that connects to something that moved you years ago. It could be anything that injects meaning into your work and elevates it to something more than just a random choice.

These are your personal talismans. Secret messages encoded in your work that most people walk right past without noticing. They're now your anchor.

Find them and use them ♡

Yours truly,
Tobias

PS: Have a great week and enjoy the lovely spring weather!