Help. Everything feels a little bland, a little sad. Well - not everything, but there's definitely a beige-ification happening within the world, and I wanted to know more. When did colour and individuality get traded in for uniformity and neutrality? I still think about when McDonald's was a bright playground full of germs and simpler times. This slow, steady universal coping mechanism is what happens when everyone's watching, and no one wants to be caught standing out. Brand logos become sans-serif predictable, kitchens become sterile and stainless - nothing announces that someone actually lives there. But not everyone's palette is beige. Gen Z is reclaiming maximalism, loudly. It's time brands took the road less beige.

Architecture led the charge decades ago - repeated designs and bulk material purchases for speed and cost stripped away the personality and lived experiences that craft taste. My favourite comparison is Home Alone - niche, I know - but every space in that 5-bedroom, 6-bathroom home had soul. No two rooms shared the same style, and I'm still not sure what Kevin's parents did for a living to afford that house and five kids. Today it's not builders doing the copying, it's algorithms: the more subway-tile kitchens and neutral renovations we're served, the more we follow, the more we're served - sameness feeding blandness until every home reno looks like it came from the same Pinterest board.

Don't get me started on film. DC's superhero era, The Little Mermaid (live-action), or any Netflix drama - you'll find the same colour stamp: shadows cool and teal, skin tones warm and orange. Not artistic flair. A muted, consistent grade to look "clean" across every streaming device and screen size - the safer choice, not the braver one. Special mentions to films like La La Land and Barbie, nodding to the colour-rich vibrancy of earlier eras - one of the many qualities that made these movies cultural moments.

2017 marked a shift in the design world, where uniqueness became an obstacle to overcome - better to look like everyone else than risk standing out. The result is what critics now call "blanding" - entire industries converging on the same thin sans-serif wordmark, no texture, no colour, leaving a world that feels eerily constructed. Rebrands used to be about encapsulating the past and telling the story for the future. Now it's about how the logo holds up across a hundred different screens and apps. If curiosity killed the cat, then consistency killed the soul.

Enter Gen Z. As Milan-based trend researcher Alina Moreno put it: 'They don't dress to look rich, they dress to look rare.' Depop, now home to over 43 million people hunting down one-of-a-kind pieces instead of the same five fast-fashion staples everyone else is wearing, is proof that individuality still sells. Quiet luxury's had its moment; what's replacing it is loud, thrifted, and impossible to replicate. Maximalism. Colour, texture and character are what stand out and what pulls cultural cred. For brands, that's not a fashion footnote - that's a market signal. Minimalism promised calm. For Gen Z, it's starting to feel more like erasure. It's time brands took the road less beige.