“The Age of Imperfection – Why Brands Are Embracing Flaws As Features”

In Italy, we argue endlessly about pasta shapes – whether rigatoni holds more sauce than penne, or if spaghetti should ever meet ragù.

 

But my grandmother once revealed to me a secret that cut through all that noise – minuzzaglia.

 

A humble mix of broken pasta pieces, once considered poor people’s food in old Neapolitan homes. No elegance, no uniformity, just scraps gathered together.

 

And yet, when she served it, it was a feast of surprises.

 

Every spoonful was different – ridges, curves, twists, smooth bites, a feast of textures and tastes. What looked imperfect was, in truth, a hidden luxury – one dish, infinite variations.

 

That day, I learned that imperfection is not the opposite of beauty. Sometimes, imperfection is alive, playful, and generous.

 

“Imperfection isn’t a lack – it’s a point of view.”

 

In that bowl of broken pasta, I first tasted a truth that later followed me into design – perfection is overrated.

 

I’ve spent most of my life working in design, and if there’s one thing I’ve grown suspicious of its perfection. Perfectly polished visuals. Perfectly balanced campaigns. Nice, yes. Safe, sure.

 

But just like a dish of pasta where every piece looks the same, safe never made anyone fall in love.

 

That’s why I hold onto a different idea: take the word imperfect. Now shift one small mark and create a space, and it becomes “I’m perfect.” Nothing added, nothing removed.

 

That apostrophe? That’s you! The perspective, the human touch, the spark that changes everything. That’s design in a nutshell – the power to reframe imperfection as meaning.

 

That tiny apostrophe opens a bigger conversation – how brands today are using imperfection not as a compromise, but as a strategy.

 

Imperfection as a way of thinking

Fashion designer Martin Margiela taught me that imperfection can be a philosophy. He flipped fashion inside out, showing seams, raw hems, and labels exposed.

 

His work was never about polish but about honesty, chaos, and wit. Margiela revealed what brands often hide: process, fragility, the unfinished. He showed that imperfection isn’t a lack. It’s a point of view.

 

Imperfection as sustainability

Patagonia expresses imperfection differently. For them, it’s about durability. Their jackets tell stories through patches, repairs, scars. They run ads that literally say “Don’t Buy This Jacket.” They remind us that imperfection is proof of life lived, of respect for resources, of responsibility.

 

I see Patagonia’s approach as radical honesty. They don’t pretend their products last forever or stay pristine. Instead, they embrace wear-and-tear as value.

 

A stain isn’t a flaw; it’s a memory. A patch isn’t a fix; it’s pride. In a market obsessed with the new, Patagonia’s imperfections become their strongest badge of authenticity. And they help you to keep it that way.

 

Imperfection as generosity

Too Good To Go takes imperfection and turns it into care. Meals that supermarkets would discard, portions that vary, surprises in the bag. Nothing polished, everything human.

 

Here imperfection becomes generosity, the simple act of saving food instead of wasting it.

 

Every imperfect meal tells a story: someone noticed, someone cared, someone chose to act. That small gesture transforms imperfection into a moral choice, a kindness made visible.

 

Imperfection as lifestyle

Then there’s Vans. No skater wants clean, perfect sneakers.

 

Perfection, in their world, holds no meaning. Shoes need scribbles, tape, torn soles. Every scrape is a badge of honour. The more battered, the better.

 

Vans built an entire lifestyle brand on this truth. They don’t sell pristine sneakers; they sell rebellion, chaos, and energy in motion.

 

Imperfection here is not just tolerated, it’s the very identity of the culture. I love how raw that is. Vans says, “Go ahead, ruin me.” That’s how I become yours.

 

Imperfection as nature

Aesop’s imperfection is quiet, almost meditative. Step into one of their stores, and nothing is standardised.

 

Uneven walls, rough textures, natural irregularities. No two spaces are the same. In a world of glossy sameness, Aesop creates environments that feel alive, tactile, and rooted.

 

Their philosophy is steeped in wabi-sabi – the beauty of the incomplete, the transient, the raw.

 

Walking into Aesop doesn’t feel like entering a branded machine; it feels like entering a space shaped by nature and humans alike, with respect for place, time, and imperfection.

 

Imperfection in process

My most personal encounter with imperfection came while filming a campaign for Baxter inside the Gipsoteca Antonio Canova.

 

The museum is filled with plaster prototypes of Canova’s sculptures, not flawless marbles, but works in progress, alive with motion and human touch. Standing among them, I felt electricity.

 

The prototypes carried more life than perfection ever could. Baxter understood this: the unfinished is not a flaw, it is a process. Imperfection carries honesty, momentum, and genius in motion.

 

Imperfection in living

A furniture catalogue is not a showroom. It’s a portrait. Most interior design brochures show flawless, staged homes, polished but lifeless.

 

For Zanotta, a different path was chosen – 12 real homes, belonging to architects, DJs, artists, lawyers. Full of objects, rituals, clutter, laughter, and love.

 

The only rule: move just one or two pieces to introduce a Zanotta object. That small act sparked a dialogue between design and life, elegance and reality. Even the shoot broke convention; flash captured immediacy, spontaneity, and the luxurious vitality of living.

 

Beauty is not in flawless display, but in conversation with life itself.

 

Imperfection in design

Even the most iconic brands carry imperfection in their very symbols. Take Apple – the logo is not a perfect apple; it has a bite taken out.

 

That bite is everything. It breaks symmetry, gives the mark a narrative, and makes it unforgettable. A flawless apple? Just an apple. The missing piece is what made it legendary.

 

When the myth of perfection fades, what remains are these imperfect gestures I choose to live by:

 

- People over polish - The best logos feel like friends – familiar enough to trust, surprising enough to love.

- Art, not just design - Design solves problems and art stirs the soul. Let feeling and poetry break the grid wide open.

- Make a symbol - Not just a logo, but a living mark – a heartbeat, a song, a sketch. Strong enough to be remembered, gentle enough to smile back.

- Designed to be redesigned - Nothing is sacred or fixed. Bend it, break it and let others redraw it. A system is alive only if it mutates

- The smile factor - Because nothing disarms like joy. Design is braver when it smiles at you first.

 

When I see the word imperfect, I don’t see failure anymore.

 

I see Patagonia jackets with patched elbows. Vans shoes – torn and taped. Too Good To Go’s meals saved.

 

The apostrophe in “I’m perfect” is more than punctuation; it’s the reminder that what makes us human is what makes us matter. Here’s the truth I’ve come to believe – perfection is admired, but imperfection is loved.

 

Angelo Ferrara is creative director and partner at global brand design agency Robilant.