The New Heritage: When Old Brands Act Young and Young Brands Act Old
The New Heritage: When Old Brands Act Young and Young Brands Act Old
UK brands with 200 years of history are desperately trying to look fresh. UAE brands with 5 years of history are desperately trying to look established. Both are getting it wrong.
UK brands with 200 years of history are desperately trying to look fresh. UAE brands with 5 years of history are desperately trying to look established. Both are getting it wrong.
Here's the contradiction defining branding in 2026.
In London, heritage brands are in crisis mode. Burberry. Barbour. Marks & Spencer. They've got decades, sometimes centuries, of credibility. But younger consumers see them as their parents' brands. Outdated. Stale. Irrelevant.
So they're "de-aging." Hiring Gen Z consultants. Launching TikTok campaigns. Collaborating with streetwear brands. Trying to look young.
Meanwhile in Dubai, new brands are doing the opposite. They've been around for three years but they're designing like they've been here for thirty. Serif wordmarks. Muted palettes. "Est. 2021" like it's a badge of honour.
They're manufacturing heritage because in the Gulf, newness isn't always an advantage. Established feels trustworthy. Legacy feels valuable.
Both approaches miss the point.
The Heritage Trap: When History Becomes a Liability
Let's start with the UK problem.
British heritage brands have something most companies would kill for: authenticity. Real history. Actual craft. Stories that aren't manufactured.
But they're terrified of looking old.
So they over-correct. They chase youth culture. They try to be "disruptive." They hire agencies that tell them to "burn the rule book" and "move fast and break things."
And in the process, they lose what made them valuable in the first place.
Look at what happened to Burberry in the mid-2000s.
They became associated with chavs and football hooligans. The brand tried to distance itself from that, repositioning as high fashion, alienating their core customers. It took years and a complete creative overhaul to recover.
Or look at Marks & Spencer. They've spent a decade trying to feel younger, hipper, more relevant. New campaigns. New collaborations. New store designs. And yet they still feel like they're chasing, not leading.
The mistake? Treating heritage as something to apologise for instead of something to leverage.
The Manufactured Heritage Problem
Now let's talk about the UAE.
New brands here face a different challenge. In a market where family businesses and established names carry weight, being new can feel like a disadvantage.
So they fake it.
They use visual cues that signal longevity. Classic typography. Vintage-inspired packaging. Language that implies they've been around forever. "Time-honoured recipes." "Traditional craftsmanship." "Since 2020" (but designed to look like 1920).
And it works, to a point. It makes new brands feel more credible. More trustworthy. Less like a risk.
But it's a short-term play.
Because consumers aren't stupid. They can tell when heritage is real and when it's set dressing. And when they figure out you've been around for three years, not thirty, the credibility you manufactured disappears.
Worse, you've positioned yourself as traditional when your actual strength is probably being modern, agile, innovative. You've traded your real advantage for a fake one.
What Actually Works: Heritage as Foundation, Modernity as Expression
Here's the balance both sides are missing.
For heritage brands: Don't hide your history. Use it as proof, not apology.
Your longevity is evidence you've been doing something right for decades. That's not a liability. That's a competitive advantage no start-up can replicate.
But don't let that history define your aesthetic. Use it to inform your values, your craft, your standards. Then express those values in ways that feel contemporary.
Patagonia does this perfectly. They've been around since 1973. They don't hide that. But they don't look like a 50-year-old brand. They look like the future of responsible manufacturing. The heritage gives them credibility. The modernity gives them relevance.
Or look at Levi's. Over 170 years old. They lean into that history, but not through nostalgia. Through craft. They tell stories about the workers who made the jeans, the innovations in denim, the cultural moments their products were part of. History becomes narrative, not baggage.
For new brands: Own your newness. It's an advantage, not a weakness.
You're not burdened by legacy systems. You're not stuck with outdated processes. You can move faster, take risks, and build exactly what the market needs right now.
That's powerful. Don't manufacture fake history when your real story, scrappy, adaptive, built for today's problems, is more interesting.
Glossier launched in 2014. They didn't pretend to be established. They leant into being new, digital-first, community-built. And that newness became their differentiator.
Oatly launched in the '90s but didn't become culturally relevant until they rebranded in 2012. They didn't manufacture heritage. They leant into being the irreverent challenger. And that challenger energy is what made them iconic.
How This Plays Out in Practice
Let's look at brands getting this balance right.
Burberry under Daniel Lee. He didn't erase the brand's British heritage. He reinterpreted it. The trench coat stayed. The check stayed. But the execution felt modern. Sharper. More confident. Heritage informed, not imprisoned.
The Luxury Closet in Dubai. They're a relatively new platform (launched 2012), but they didn't fake old-world luxury credentials. They positioned as the modern way to access luxury. Digital-first. Transparent pricing. Authenticated resale. Their newness was the selling point.
Aesop. Australian brand founded in 1987. Not ancient, but not new. They don't manufacture Victorian-era apothecary heritage. They use apothecary-inspired design language, amber bottles, minimalist labels, but the brand feels contemporary. The heritage is aesthetic inspiration, not false history.
The Sweet Spot
Here's what both heritage and new brands should aim for:
Timeless, not dated. Your brand should feel like it could have existed 20 years ago or 20 years from now. Not stuck in any particular era, but designed to transcend trends.
Confident, not desperate. Whether you're 200 years old or 2 years old, own it. Don't apologise for your age. Don't fake what you're not.
Rooted, not rigid. Know what you stand for. Let that foundation inform everything. But don't let it stop you from evolving.
The brands that win aren't the ones that look the oldest or the newest. They're the ones that feel the most true.
The DARB Edge
We help heritage brands feel modern without erasing what made them matter. And we help new brands feel credible without faking a past they don't have.
Because the goal isn't to look old or young. It's to look like you know exactly who you are, and you're not apologising for it.
Struggling to balance heritage with modernity? Let's find the version of your brand that feels timeless. Get in touch with DARB.
Here's the contradiction defining branding in 2026.
In London, heritage brands are in crisis mode. Burberry. Barbour. Marks & Spencer. They've got decades, sometimes centuries, of credibility. But younger consumers see them as their parents' brands. Outdated. Stale. Irrelevant.
So they're "de-aging." Hiring Gen Z consultants. Launching TikTok campaigns. Collaborating with streetwear brands. Trying to look young.
Meanwhile in Dubai, new brands are doing the opposite. They've been around for three years but they're designing like they've been here for thirty. Serif wordmarks. Muted palettes. "Est. 2021" like it's a badge of honour.
They're manufacturing heritage because in the Gulf, newness isn't always an advantage. Established feels trustworthy. Legacy feels valuable.
Both approaches miss the point.
The Heritage Trap: When History Becomes a Liability
Let's start with the UK problem.
British heritage brands have something most companies would kill for: authenticity. Real history. Actual craft. Stories that aren't manufactured.
But they're terrified of looking old.
So they over-correct. They chase youth culture. They try to be "disruptive." They hire agencies that tell them to "burn the rule book" and "move fast and break things."
And in the process, they lose what made them valuable in the first place.
Look at what happened to Burberry in the mid-2000s.
They became associated with chavs and football hooligans. The brand tried to distance itself from that, repositioning as high fashion, alienating their core customers. It took years and a complete creative overhaul to recover.
Or look at Marks & Spencer. They've spent a decade trying to feel younger, hipper, more relevant. New campaigns. New collaborations. New store designs. And yet they still feel like they're chasing, not leading.
The mistake? Treating heritage as something to apologise for instead of something to leverage.
The Manufactured Heritage Problem
Now let's talk about the UAE.
New brands here face a different challenge. In a market where family businesses and established names carry weight, being new can feel like a disadvantage.
So they fake it.
They use visual cues that signal longevity. Classic typography. Vintage-inspired packaging. Language that implies they've been around forever. "Time-honoured recipes." "Traditional craftsmanship." "Since 2020" (but designed to look like 1920).
And it works, to a point. It makes new brands feel more credible. More trustworthy. Less like a risk.
But it's a short-term play.
Because consumers aren't stupid. They can tell when heritage is real and when it's set dressing. And when they figure out you've been around for three years, not thirty, the credibility you manufactured disappears.
Worse, you've positioned yourself as traditional when your actual strength is probably being modern, agile, innovative. You've traded your real advantage for a fake one.
What Actually Works: Heritage as Foundation, Modernity as Expression
Here's the balance both sides are missing.
For heritage brands: Don't hide your history. Use it as proof, not apology.
Your longevity is evidence you've been doing something right for decades. That's not a liability. That's a competitive advantage no start-up can replicate.
But don't let that history define your aesthetic. Use it to inform your values, your craft, your standards. Then express those values in ways that feel contemporary.
Patagonia does this perfectly. They've been around since 1973. They don't hide that. But they don't look like a 50-year-old brand. They look like the future of responsible manufacturing. The heritage gives them credibility. The modernity gives them relevance.
Or look at Levi's. Over 170 years old. They lean into that history, but not through nostalgia. Through craft. They tell stories about the workers who made the jeans, the innovations in denim, the cultural moments their products were part of. History becomes narrative, not baggage.
For new brands: Own your newness. It's an advantage, not a weakness.
You're not burdened by legacy systems. You're not stuck with outdated processes. You can move faster, take risks, and build exactly what the market needs right now.
That's powerful. Don't manufacture fake history when your real story, scrappy, adaptive, built for today's problems, is more interesting.
Glossier launched in 2014. They didn't pretend to be established. They leant into being new, digital-first, community-built. And that newness became their differentiator.
Oatly launched in the '90s but didn't become culturally relevant until they rebranded in 2012. They didn't manufacture heritage. They leant into being the irreverent challenger. And that challenger energy is what made them iconic.
How This Plays Out in Practice
Let's look at brands getting this balance right.
Burberry under Daniel Lee. He didn't erase the brand's British heritage. He reinterpreted it. The trench coat stayed. The check stayed. But the execution felt modern. Sharper. More confident. Heritage informed, not imprisoned.
The Luxury Closet in Dubai. They're a relatively new platform (launched 2012), but they didn't fake old-world luxury credentials. They positioned as the modern way to access luxury. Digital-first. Transparent pricing. Authenticated resale. Their newness was the selling point.
Aesop. Australian brand founded in 1987. Not ancient, but not new. They don't manufacture Victorian-era apothecary heritage. They use apothecary-inspired design language, amber bottles, minimalist labels, but the brand feels contemporary. The heritage is aesthetic inspiration, not false history.
The Sweet Spot
Here's what both heritage and new brands should aim for:
Timeless, not dated. Your brand should feel like it could have existed 20 years ago or 20 years from now. Not stuck in any particular era, but designed to transcend trends.
Confident, not desperate. Whether you're 200 years old or 2 years old, own it. Don't apologise for your age. Don't fake what you're not.
Rooted, not rigid. Know what you stand for. Let that foundation inform everything. But don't let it stop you from evolving.
The brands that win aren't the ones that look the oldest or the newest. They're the ones that feel the most true.
The DARB Edge
We help heritage brands feel modern without erasing what made them matter. And we help new brands feel credible without faking a past they don't have.
Because the goal isn't to look old or young. It's to look like you know exactly who you are, and you're not apologising for it.
Struggling to balance heritage with modernity? Let's find the version of your brand that feels timeless. Get in touch with DARB.
