Every few months, I see another beautifully bound, meticulously designed brand book land on a desk or in a client’s inbox. It has the usual suspects: logo variations, colour palettes, type hierarchies, tone-of-voice dos and don’ts. Occasionally, you may even find a dramatic “brand purpose” slide, the kind that tries to sound like a manifesto but lands closer to big flowery words about real-world impact.
After 15 years in branding and design, I’ve come to believe that while brand books maintain consistency, they rarely inspire emotion. What builds emotional gravity, loyalty, and that irrational love for a brand is not just the consistency of fonts. It’s the consistency of belief.
That’s why I say: Don’t build a brand book. Build a cult manual.
What do I mean by that? A brand book is about control. It ensures that whether your brand lands on a hoarding in Bangalore, a store in Berlin, or a social media ad in Boston, it looks and sounds the same. That’s valuable, but it’s surface-level. It answers, “How should this brand look?” But a cult manual on the other hand goes deeper. It answers, “Why does this brand exist, and how do we live it?” It doesn’t just define guidelines; it defines rituals, codes, and behaviours, one that inspires everyone who touches the brand, from employees to partners to customers.
We have always come across brands that behave like cults. Think about Harley-Davidson. Their brand isn’t the orange-and-black logo or the blocky typeface. The real manual is in the rituals: the open road, the roar of engines in unison, the sense of brotherhood at a rally. Harley doesn’t just sell motorcycles. They induct riders into a tribe.
Or Lego. Their power isn’t just in the colourful bricks. It’s in the ritual of building, the creativity unlocked when people of all ages come together, and the shared culture of imagination passed from one generation to the next. Lego doesn’t just sell toys; it sells a lifelong membership into a world of play and creation. This works for kids, parents, and even adults who’ve rediscovered Lego as collectors or hobbyists.
Even closer to home, consider Royal Enfield. Years ago, it was seen as a ‘dad’s bike’. Today, it is a badge of rugged individuality. Why? Because the brand leaned into its cult, the long rides, the Himalaya stories, the Bullet clubs. Their true manual wasn’t in their Pantone swatches, but in the rituals of community and adventure.
And how can I forget Maggi. The FMCG brand never positioned itself as just a quick snack. But as a brand, it is resonant with the ritual of the 2-minute cook, the late-night hostel craving, and the shared bowl with friends. These moments became cultural ceremonies that no brand book could have predicted, but every loyalist remembers.
Cult has more resonance in today’s world. The last decade has seen an explosion of brands. From D2C start-ups to global conglomerates, everyone has a sleek identity, witty Instagram captions, and lossy packaging. But with that comes noise. What cuts through is not polish; it’s passion. Cult brands thrive because they give people more than a product; they give them a sense of belonging. When customers wear, drive, or eat something, they’re not just consuming. They’re declaring, “I am one of them.”
As a creative director, I’ve seen brand books gather dust in drawers. In my early years, I was obsessed with detail: kerning, colour accuracy, and logo clear space. Clients were happy, but the work didn’t always resonate beyond campaigns. I’ve also seen brands that invested lakhs in printing elaborate guideline books. Everyone signed off, filed them away, and forgot about them. The logo stayed intact, yes. But the brand? It never caught fire.
So, how do you build a cult manual? Building a cult manual starts with belief, not design. Brands that inspire devotion know what they stand for and what they stand against, and they articulate it like a rallying cry rather than a sterile vision statement. Once that belief is clear, it gets translated into rituals. These are the repeated, everyday experiences that make the brand part of people’s lives: the morning cup of tea, the Friday pizza night, the unboxing moment that feels like a celebration. Alongside rituals come symbols: not just logos, but also taglines, packaging details, chants, that loyalists immediately recognise. Importantly, a true cult manual is participatory. It invites employees, customers, and partners to add to the lore, strengthening the sense of belonging. And unlike a static brand book, it is alive, evolving with stories, codes, and traditions that adapt to changing times while keeping the core belief intact.
Yes, consistency matters. But consistency without conviction is decoration. As brand builders, we need to shift our thinking. A brand book preserves a brand. A cult manual ignites it.
