Anti-design
TL;DR.
This lecture delves into the principles of anti-design, exploring how breaking conventions can enhance user engagement and foster authenticity in web design. It highlights the balance between creativity and usability while emphasizing the importance of accessibility.
Main Points.
Intent:
Anti-design challenges traditional aesthetics, inviting user engagement.
Breaking conventions should communicate meaningful messages.
Predictability in core tasks is essential for user comfort.
Implementation:
Disrupt one design element at a time for controlled exploration.
Typography can signal rebellion while maintaining hierarchy.
Accessibility guardrails ensure inclusivity for all users.
Usability:
Clear labels and feedback mechanisms enhance navigation.
Testing designs quickly helps ensure user comprehension.
Balancing usability with creativity is crucial for success.
Real-World Examples:
Brands like Oatly and Ben & Jerry's leverage anti-design for authenticity.
Spotify Wrapped showcases the power of engaging, unconventional design.
Anti-design fosters emotional connections and community among users.
Conclusion.
The principles of anti-design offer a refreshing perspective on web aesthetics, encouraging designers to embrace chaos and imperfection while prioritising user experience. By breaking conventions thoughtfully, brands can create authentic connections with their audiences, paving the way for innovative and engaging digital experiences. As the design landscape continues to evolve, the principles of anti-design will remain essential in crafting meaningful interactions that resonate with users.
Key takeaways.
Anti-design challenges traditional aesthetics, fostering user engagement.
Breaking conventions should communicate meaningful messages.
Maintaining predictability in core tasks enhances user comfort.
Disrupt one design element at a time for controlled exploration.
Typography can signal rebellion while maintaining hierarchy.
Accessibility guardrails ensure inclusivity for all users.
Clear labels and feedback mechanisms enhance navigation.
Testing designs quickly helps ensure user comprehension.
Balancing usability with creativity is crucial for success.
Brands leveraging anti-design create authentic connections with audiences.
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Intent shapes disruption.
Breaking conventions with purpose.
In interface and brand communication, breaking familiar patterns can work as a deliberate signal rather than a decorative flourish. When a design intentionally departs from what people expect, it changes how they read the page, how they scan for meaning, and how they emotionally interpret the experience. The difference between a compelling disruption and an exhausting one often comes down to whether the designer can explain the intent in plain language and then prove that the experience still works in practice.
Conventions exist because they compress learning. Standard navigation positions, predictable typography, and stable layout rhythms reduce mental load so users can focus on content or tasks. When those conventions are broken, users notice. That attention can be valuable, but it is also fragile. A disruption that communicates a message can feel energising, while a disruption that merely adds friction will feel like wasted effort.
Know what is being broken.
Identify the rule before bending it.
Traditional web design often optimises for clarity through symmetry, clean alignment, familiar patterns, and obvious calls to action. Anti-design approaches can subvert those expectations by introducing asymmetry, rough edges, awkward spacing, clashing tones, or deliberately uneven hierarchy. The first step is naming the specific rule being broken, such as layout symmetry, typographic consistency, predictable colour harmony, or conventional interaction feedback.
A useful way to think about convention-breaking is as a controlled “signal” that competes with the user’s task. If the signal is stronger than the task, the task loses. If the signal is too weak, the disruption becomes pointless and reads as a mistake. Designers who use disruption well usually anchor it to a clear reason, such as reflecting a brand’s rebellious positioning, commenting on a cultural moment, or making a user pause at an important message.
Chaos can carry meaning.
Emotion is not optional in UX.
Anti-design is often described as chaotic, but the most effective examples are rarely random. They tend to be curated chaos, where tension is intentionally composed. A jarring layout can mirror the topic being discussed. A rough visual texture can reinforce authenticity. A sudden shift in typography can signal urgency, warning, or a change in narrative tone.
Consider a campaign page discussing burnout or information overload. A layout that feels crowded, noisy, and visually demanding can echo the subject matter and make the message land harder. The trick is keeping the disruption contained to the moment where it adds value. If everything is loud, nothing is loud. The experience becomes constant noise, and users either adapt and stop noticing or exit entirely.
Design as storytelling.
Every choice can narrate identity.
Breaking conventions can also work as narrative structure. Colour, shape, and spatial rhythm can communicate values before a single sentence is read. A sustainability-led brand might lean into earthy palettes and organic shapes, not to look “pretty”, but to reinforce what the brand stands for. A technical product might use sharp contrast and strict grid structure to reflect precision and reliability, then break that grid at a moment that highlights innovation or disruption.
When design choices are treated as story beats, the user becomes an active participant rather than a passive reader. They are not only consuming information but also decoding signals. That decoding process can increase engagement, but only when the story remains readable. If the user cannot decode it, they will default to the simplest interpretation: the site is broken or untrustworthy.
Predictability in core tasks.
Creative disruption is rarely the problem. The problem is disruption placed on top of tasks that must remain frictionless. People will tolerate unusual visuals when the basics still behave the way their brain expects. If the page asks for money, personal details, or any form of commitment, predictability becomes a trust mechanism.
Keep familiar pathways visible.
Experiment at the edges, not the spine.
Core tasks like navigation, search, primary calls to action, and checkout flows need clear, stable patterns. Even if typography becomes expressive or layouts become unconventional, the primary navigation should remain discoverable and consistent. Users should always know where they are, what is clickable, and how to go back without having to “learn” the interface from scratch.
One practical approach is to treat core tasks as non-negotiable scaffolding, then let experimentation happen around them. For example, a site can use an unconventional editorial grid for storytelling sections while keeping navigation placement consistent across pages. It can use unusual imagery or composition within content areas while ensuring buttons, forms, and key actions remain recognisable.
Trust is a conversion asset.
Confidence reduces drop-off and churn.
Predictability is strongly tied to perceived safety. In e-commerce, users are not only browsing, they are risk-assessing. They are checking whether the site feels credible enough to enter payment details, whether the purchase flow looks legitimate, and whether the interface behaves like other sites that have earned their trust. A confusing pattern at checkout will not feel “creative”, it will feel suspicious.
This is where measurable outcomes appear. When users feel secure, they are less likely to abandon tasks, which can improve conversion rates. The important point is not that creativity harms conversions, but that creativity placed in the wrong part of the journey often does. The best use of disruption is usually earlier in the journey, when the goal is attention and curiosity, then the interface becomes more conventional as the goal shifts toward completion.
Use anti-design as emphasis.
Anti-design works best as a strategic emphasis tool. When used selectively, it creates contrast, and contrast creates meaning. When it becomes the entire system, it stops being emphasis and starts being the new baseline, which removes the advantage it was meant to provide.
Contrast creates focal points.
Let order and disorder collaborate.
A common pattern is to place a disruptive element beside a clean, structured one. A chaotic typographic block can sit next to a calm content column. A wild colour clash can frame a single call to action. This juxtaposition leverages visual hierarchy to guide attention without requiring the user to decode everything at once.
In practical terms, this might look like a deliberately rough “headline moment” at the top of a page, followed by a conventional content layout that supports scanning. It might also look like an unexpected section break that signals the importance of what follows. The emphasis becomes more memorable because the user experiences a shift, not a constant state.
Urgency without overload.
Signal importance with restraint.
Selective disruption can also create urgency. A single section that is visually louder than the rest can communicate “pay attention”. This can work well for time-sensitive announcements, product launches, warnings, or critical steps in a process. The key is to avoid making urgency feel like panic. If everything screams, users either disengage or become numb to the cues.
Teams building on platforms like Squarespace often benefit from controlled enhancement patterns, where a stable theme is preserved and specific components are upgraded. In that context, codified plugin libraries such as Cx+ can be used as a discipline tool, not a gimmick, because the enhancements are constrained to defined behaviours rather than ad-hoc experimentation scattered across pages.
Subversion versus confusion.
Subversion surprises users in a way that still feels navigable. Confusion surprises users in a way that blocks progress. The difference is often subtle, and it is rarely solved by “better aesthetics”. It is solved by clarity, feedback, and testing.
Subversion invites exploration.
Surprise should still feel safe.
Subversion can be playful. It can challenge expectations and make users curious about what happens next. A hover interaction might reveal a hidden detail. A layout might intentionally break a grid to draw attention to a story beat. A typographic shift might signal a new section of thought. The user experiences novelty, but they never lose their bearings.
The underlying structure is still readable. Labels remain legible. Actions remain recognisable. Navigation remains consistent. The user can enjoy the surprise because the system still respects their time and attention.
Confusion punishes attention.
Friction is not automatically meaningful.
Confusion appears when users cannot predict what will happen if they click, tap, or scroll. It appears when interactive elements do not look interactive, when the interface removes feedback, or when labels become abstract. It also appears when the design relies on insider cultural references that the audience does not share.
Cultural context matters because conventions are not universal. A pattern that feels fresh and clever in one market might feel broken in another. The safest way to handle this is to identify what the audience already expects, then decide where breaking those expectations adds value. That decision becomes easier when the project starts with explicit audience assumptions rather than aesthetics-first experimentation.
Clarity through labels and actions.
Clear labels and obvious actions are not boring. They are generous. They reduce cognitive load, make experiences feel reliable, and give design teams more freedom to experiment elsewhere because the fundamentals are stable.
Make actions self-evident.
Users should not have to guess.
Buttons should look like buttons, links should look like links, and critical actions should not be hidden behind visual ambiguity. If the design language is unconventional, clarity becomes even more important. Users will already be spending attention decoding the style, so they should not also be forced to decode the mechanics.
A practical technique is to use consistent affordances. If underlines indicate links, keep them consistent. If a particular shape indicates an action, use it reliably. If an icon is used, pair it with text in high-stakes contexts, because icons can be interpreted differently across audiences and devices.
Feedback makes systems learnable.
Interactions need visible confirmation.
Feedback mechanisms are the difference between a novel interface and a confusing one. Hover states, pressed states, loading indicators, error messages, and subtle transitions help users understand cause and effect. Without feedback, users cannot build a mental model of the interface, which makes every interaction feel risky.
This is also where performance and perceived performance intersect. A slow response without a loading indicator feels broken. A slow response with clear progress feedback feels tolerable. Even simple interface responses, such as a button changing state after a click, can prevent repeat clicks, accidental double submissions, and unnecessary frustration.
Testing for comprehension.
Novel design choices should earn their place through evidence. This does not mean creativity must be reduced to numbers, but it does mean the team should confirm that people understand what the interface is asking them to do.
Fast experiments beat debates.
Measure what people actually do.
A/B testing can be useful when the team has a clear hypothesis, such as whether an unconventional call to action increases engagement or whether a disruptive hero section improves scroll depth. The most valuable tests are not “which design is prettier”, but “which design helps users complete the task with less friction while still delivering the intended emotional tone”.
Quantitative testing can be paired with quick qualitative checks. Short usability sessions, even with a small set of participants, can reveal whether labels are understood, whether interactions are discoverable, and whether the narrative makes sense. The combination of metrics and observation creates confidence that the disruption is meaningful rather than accidental.
Test the edge cases.
Reality includes small screens and fatigue.
A design that feels “obvious” on a large monitor might fail on a phone. A layout that feels playful to a fresh user might feel exhausting to a tired user trying to complete a task quickly. Testing should include mobile contexts, slow connections, and accessibility tooling because those conditions expose whether the system is genuinely usable or only usable in ideal circumstances.
It is also worth testing the “return visit” experience. Disruptive design can be exciting once and annoying the tenth time. If the interface relies heavily on novelty, it may lose its value over time, which means the long-term experience should be considered, not only the first impression.
Balancing usability and creativity.
The goal is not to dilute creativity. The goal is to place creativity where it strengthens meaning and brand identity, while protecting the parts of the experience that users depend on for progress. This balance is easier to maintain when the team defines non-negotiables and then treats everything else as a space for controlled experimentation.
Set explicit non-negotiables.
Define what must never break.
Teams can agree early that certain foundations must remain stable, such as readability, navigational clarity, and accessibility support. These foundations act as a guardrail, which gives designers confidence to explore bolder ideas elsewhere. When these guardrails are missing, every decision becomes a debate because there is no shared definition of what “good” looks like.
Data can support this approach. Behaviour metrics, support tickets, search logs, and funnel drop-off points can reveal where creativity is helping and where it is adding friction. A controlled, evidence-based loop keeps the work grounded without flattening the brand voice.
Let technology extend options.
New tooling can protect function.
Modern workflows can help teams explore creativity while keeping systems stable. Design systems, component libraries, and platform-specific enhancements can make it easier to test variations without breaking core behaviours. This matters for small teams in particular, where every additional support issue becomes a drain on time.
When experimentation is contained within reusable components, it is easier to revert, iterate, and learn. That containment also reduces maintenance risk because the team is not creating one-off patterns that nobody remembers how to support later.
Readability, navigation, accessibility.
Readability, navigation, and accessibility are not only ethical goals. They are also strategic goals. A design that excludes users is not only unfair, it also reduces reach, damages trust, and often creates avoidable operational overhead when users need help completing basic actions.
Build for mobile stability.
Small screens amplify poor decisions.
Mobile experiences introduce constraints that magnify ambiguity. Touch targets need to be large enough to tap confidently. Content needs to reflow predictably. A complex layout that looks intentional on desktop can collapse into confusion on smaller screens. Designers who use disruptive patterns should validate that the same patterns remain legible and navigable when space is constrained.
It also helps to think about the physical context of mobile use. People are often distracted, moving, or using one hand. When attention is limited, clarity becomes the difference between engagement and abandonment.
Make inclusive access normal.
Accessibility is part of quality.
Designers should consider users with visual, motor, and cognitive constraints, not as edge cases, but as part of the real audience. Compatibility with a screen reader, clear focus states for keyboard navigation, sufficient contrast, and predictable form behaviour all contribute to an experience that more people can use reliably.
Staying aligned with WCAG principles gives teams a concrete framework for evaluating whether a creative choice is still responsible. This does not ban experimentation. It simply ensures experimentation does not come at the cost of usability and inclusion.
Avoid novelty support burden.
Novelty becomes expensive when it generates questions. If users repeatedly ask how to do basic tasks, the interface is not “unique”, it is unclear. That creates a support burden that small teams and growing businesses often cannot afford.
Design choices have operational cost.
Every confusion point becomes a ticket.
Confusing patterns lead to more help requests, more explanations, more onboarding time, and more churn. Even when support is handled informally, the cost still exists, because it consumes attention that could be used for product improvement, content quality, or growth work. This is why novelty should be treated as a business decision, not only a creative decision.
When the interface must introduce something unusual, it helps to support it with lightweight guidance. A brief tooltip, a short onboarding cue, or a well-placed microcopy line can reduce confusion without diluting the aesthetic. The guidance should not apologise for the design. It should simply confirm what the user can do next.
Use documentation as a safety net.
Support users without interrupting flow.
Support resources can reduce frustration when they are easy to find and written in plain language. Helpful patterns include a visible help entry point, a short FAQ for common tasks, and contextual assistance near forms or complex actions. In many cases, these resources can be presented as part of the experience rather than bolted on later.
Keep guidance close to the action, so users do not have to leave the task to find help.
Use consistent language between labels and help copy, so instructions match what users see.
Track recurring questions and treat them as design feedback, not user failure.
Remove or rework patterns that repeatedly confuse, even if they feel creatively satisfying.
When design intent is clear, convention-breaking can strengthen meaning, energise storytelling, and help a brand feel more authentic. When usability foundations are protected, disruption becomes a tool rather than a risk. The next part of the conversation naturally moves from principles into implementation: how teams can translate these ideas into repeatable components, measurable experiments, and platform-friendly patterns that scale without turning creativity into ongoing maintenance debt.
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Subversion without confusion.
Define subversion and confusion.
Design teams often reach for subversion when a product feels too predictable, too templated, or too similar to competitors. Used with intent, it creates small moments of delight that wake users up, spark curiosity, and make an interface feel human rather than manufactured. The key is that the surprise still feels like it belongs, as though the product is confident enough to play with expectations while keeping users safe.
The problem starts when surprise slips into “I do not know what just happened.” That is where confusion lives. Confusion is not the presence of novelty; it is the absence of meaning. If an interaction breaks the user’s mental model without offering a quick explanation, the user is forced to guess, and guessing is expensive. It costs time, attention, and patience, which is why confusion tends to show up as abandoned sessions, rage clicks, form drop-offs, and support messages that all describe the same issue in different words.
Surprise that earns trust.
Novelty works best when it is reversible.
Effective surprise is usually bounded. It appears in places where mistakes are low-risk, where the next step is obvious, or where users can easily undo the action. A playful navigation animation can work because the destination remains clear. An unconventional layout can work because the hierarchy still guides the eye. The user experiences “that is different” but not “that is broken”.
One practical way to keep surprise safe is to make it reversible or previewable. If a UI pattern is unusual, provide a visible escape route: a back link, a cancel button, a clear close icon, a consistent breadcrumb trail, or a persistent home path. Reversibility turns experimentation into exploration, because the user learns the interface without fear of getting trapped.
Confusion is a cost.
Users pay attention with time and effort.
Confusion increases cognitive load, which is the mental effort required to understand what is happening and what to do next. Every extra second spent deciphering the interface is a second not spent engaging with content, comparing products, or completing tasks. In e-commerce, confusion often shows up as fewer adds-to-cart. In SaaS, it shows up as lower activation. In content-led sites, it shows up as shallow scroll depth and low return visits.
It also creates hidden operational costs. When users cannot predict outcomes, they reach for help. That means more support messages, more internal time spent explaining “how it works,” and more pressure to add patches and tooltips after launch. A design choice that looked like creativity at the surface can become a recurring support obligation if it produces ambiguity in core user journeys.
Design surprises with guardrails.
Subversion becomes reliable when teams treat it like any other interaction pattern: it needs guardrails. Guardrails are the visible cues and behavioural consistency that let users understand what the product is asking of them. The surprise can live in the flavour, motion, or storytelling, but the “how to use this” should stay stable.
Keep actions obvious.
Clarity beats cleverness at decision points.
When a user is choosing, buying, signing in, or submitting, clarity is the priority. This is where affordances matter: the interface should visually communicate what is clickable, what is editable, and what is static. Buttons should look like buttons, links should look like links, and primary actions should not be disguised as decorative elements. Surprise can live around these actions, but it should not camouflage them.
A common edge case is when design teams replace standard labels with playful language that only makes sense internally. It may sound on-brand, but it can reduce comprehension, especially for global audiences or time-poor users. When the action is important, labels should describe the outcome, not the vibe. “View pricing” is clearer than “Take a peek.” “Download invoice” is clearer than “Grab it.” The interface can still be warm, but the user should not have to interpret the tone to understand the action.
Use familiar terminology.
Match the words users already use.
Language is one of the fastest ways to reduce friction. The most effective labels often borrow from the user’s existing vocabulary, not the team’s internal jargon. This is especially important when products span multiple systems, such as a website on Squarespace, data stored in Knack, automation running in Make.com, and custom logic deployed through Replit. Each platform has its own terminology, but the user should experience one consistent language layer across the whole journey.
When terminology must be technical, define it once, in context, and then keep it consistent. If “record” and “entry” refer to the same thing, pick one. If “workspace” and “dashboard” are different, make that difference explicit with structure rather than extra words. Consistency helps users build a stable mental model, which is the foundation that allows surprise elsewhere without destabilising the experience.
Protect the information scent.
Navigation should predict what comes next.
Users constantly scan for cues that confirm they are on the right path. That scanning behaviour is often described as information scent: the signals that indicate “this link will take me where I expect.” Subversive design should not remove those signals. A unique navigation scheme can work if it still communicates location, available routes, and the cost of taking each route.
For example, a non-traditional menu can be memorable, but it still needs a clear pattern: categories grouped logically, active states that show current location, and labels that reflect real user goals. If the menu is playful but users cannot predict what will happen when they click, the playfulness turns into hesitation. The best versions feel like a guided tour rather than a maze.
Make feedback unmistakable.
Surprise often depends on timing, and timing depends on feedback. Without feedback, users cannot tell whether the product heard them, is processing their action, or ignored them. Feedback is not decorative; it is confirmation. It closes the loop between intention and outcome.
Confirm every interaction.
Show that the system understood the action.
Buttons should visibly respond when pressed, toggles should visibly change state, and form submissions should visibly transition to success or error. If a process takes time, show progress rather than silence. This is where micro-interactions shine: subtle state changes that reassure users without demanding attention. The detail matters because users interpret silence as failure, and repeated actions are usually a sign the interface did not communicate clearly.
One important edge case is optimistic UI, where the interface behaves as though the action succeeded before the server confirms it. This can make products feel fast, but it requires a robust rollback strategy. If a save fails, the UI must explain what happened, preserve the user’s input, and present a clear recovery route. Otherwise the interface feels unreliable, and the user learns not to trust what they see.
Design error states deliberately.
Errors should guide, not scold.
A surprising interface is more likely to produce unexpected user behaviour, so error states need to be treated as part of the core design rather than an afterthought. An error message should explain what went wrong in plain English, what the user can do next, and whether their work was saved. It should also avoid blame. Users do not “do it wrong” in a system that was designed for humans; the system failed to anticipate a path.
Practical examples include password rules, address formats, file upload limits, and payment failures. In each case, show the requirement before the user submits, not after. Inline validation, helpful examples, and clear constraints reduce frustration and reduce repeat support queries. If a flow must be strict, it can still be respectful and precise.
Use progressive disclosure.
Reveal complexity only when needed.
One of the safest ways to introduce novelty is to keep the first layer simple and reveal depth as users demonstrate intent. This is progressive disclosure in practice. The interface starts with a small set of obvious actions, then expands with advanced options, shortcuts, or configuration only after the user signals they want more.
In content-heavy sites, this can show up as collapsible sections, expandable detail blocks, or “learn more” panels that keep the main narrative clean. In product flows, it can show up as default settings with an “advanced” drawer. The surprise can live inside these deeper layers, because the user opted in, which lowers the risk of confusion and increases the chance the novelty feels rewarding.
Test comprehension, not taste.
Subversion is tempting to judge by taste, but taste is not the primary risk. The risk is comprehension. Testing should focus on whether users can predict what will happen, recover from mistakes, and complete critical tasks without coaching. That is how a team can keep creativity without sacrificing reliability.
Run rapid user checks.
Validate assumptions early and cheaply.
Fast validation can be as simple as a short task-based walkthrough with a handful of users. Ask them to complete a goal, observe where they hesitate, and note the phrases they use to describe what they expect. This is closer to truth than internal debate, because it reveals mismatches between design intent and user interpretation. When the goal is comprehension, five users can uncover most of the obvious points of friction.
When teams have the traffic to support it, A/B testing can quantify which variant improves task completion, reduces drop-off, or increases engagement. The most valuable tests are narrowly scoped. If everything changes at once, the outcome cannot be attributed to a specific decision. Isolate one variable, such as label wording, layout order, or navigation structure, then measure the impact.
Instrument the experience.
Measure behaviour, then refine the design.
Design feedback should not rely only on opinions. Instrumentation helps teams see what users actually do. That usually means basic event tracking: clicks on primary actions, scroll depth, form starts versus completions, search usage, and error rates. When teams combine this data with qualitative sessions, patterns become obvious, and iteration becomes targeted rather than guessy.
For web-led brands, performance data matters as much as interaction data. A delightful surprise that adds heavy scripts, slow animations, or large media can sabotage the overall experience. Monitoring Core Web Vitals helps teams keep novelty within a performance budget. If the site becomes sluggish, users interpret it as instability, even if the design is visually impressive.
Stress-test edge cases.
Test the awkward paths, not just the happy path.
Subversive patterns often fail at the edges: slow connections, older devices, keyboard-only navigation, screen readers, and localisation. Ensuring accessibility is not only about compliance; it is also about clarity. If an interaction works with a keyboard, it usually has a clear focus order. If it works with a screen reader, it usually has meaningful labels. Those qualities tend to help every user, not only users with assistive needs.
Teams should also test content extremes. Long headlines, missing images, empty states, and unusually large datasets can break a layout that looked perfect in the ideal mock. If a design relies on novelty, it must still behave predictably when content is messy, because real content is always messier than the design file.
Check that primary actions are visible without scrolling on common viewport sizes.
Verify that interactive elements have clear focus states and logical tab order.
Validate error handling on forms, including server failures and timeouts.
Test labels with non-expert users to confirm the wording matches their mental model.
Run a performance pass to ensure animations and media do not degrade responsiveness.
Iterate with a clear loop.
Subversion works best when it is treated as a hypothesis: “this will improve engagement without harming comprehension.” Iteration then becomes the process of proving or disproving that hypothesis. When the loop is clear, teams can keep creative risk while reducing operational risk.
Turn feedback into actions.
Collect signals, then prioritise fixes.
User feedback tends to arrive in fragments: a comment, a support message, a heatmap spike, a sudden dip in conversion. The job is to group these signals into themes and translate them into design decisions. If users repeatedly describe a feature as “hidden,” the solution is rarely more copy; it is usually a stronger visual hierarchy, a clearer label, or a more predictable placement.
Where teams run content-heavy experiences, a structured knowledge layer can reduce repeat confusion by making help discoverable at the moment it is needed. In that context, embedding an on-site assistant such as CORE can help users self-serve answers without leaving the flow, as long as the assistant’s outputs remain consistent with the interface language and the actual product behaviour. The principle is the same: reduce guessing, increase clarity, keep the experience moving.
Ship in small increments.
Release surprises gradually, not all at once.
Large visual overhauls make it difficult to diagnose what caused confusion. Smaller releases are easier to observe and easier to reverse. They also help users adapt, because the product remains familiar enough that users do not feel forced to relearn everything overnight. If a team wants to adopt a bold style, it can still ship the style in layers: first typography and spacing, then navigation changes, then interaction upgrades.
This incremental approach is especially useful on platforms where deployments are tied to templates and page-level configuration. A controlled rollout lets teams validate that changes behave correctly across page types, devices, and content variations, while keeping risk contained.
Keep the narrative coherent.
Surprise should reinforce the story, not fight it.
When subversion works, it strengthens a narrative: “this brand is confident, thoughtful, and intentional.” When it fails, it reads as inconsistency: “this brand is chaotic.” Coherence comes from repeated patterns: consistent spacing, predictable button styling, stable wording, and a clear hierarchy. Within that structure, surprise becomes a controlled accent rather than a random event.
As teams mature their design system, they can also codify where subversion is allowed. That might be in editorial moments, playful illustrations, transitions between sections, or creative empty states. Meanwhile, high-stakes interactions such as checkout, authentication, billing, and account settings remain conservative and predictable. This split is not a compromise; it is a deliberate allocation of risk to the places where it creates value.
With the boundary between surprise and confusion made explicit, the next step is to explore how different visual styles and interaction patterns can be applied intentionally across a site or product, so that creativity remains memorable while the user journey stays easy to follow.
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Balancing usability without compromise.
When a website is being designed, good taste is never enough on its own. The moment a layout becomes real, it has to perform under pressure: distracted visitors, inconsistent devices, slow networks, accessibility needs, and business stakeholders who expect results. That is why usability is not a “nice to have” layer added at the end, it is the operating system that keeps everything else coherent.
ProjektID’s approach treats design as a set of intentional constraints. Constraints are not limitations, they are safeguards. They prevent a site from drifting into aesthetics-first decisions that quietly damage comprehension, trust, and conversion. The goal is not to remove creativity, but to make sure creativity never breaks the user’s ability to complete a task.
One practical way to do this is to define design non-negotiables before any component work begins. These are rules that remain true even when branding changes, content grows, or stakeholders request “something more exciting”. Non-negotiables create a baseline experience that can survive iteration, scale, and team handovers without quietly degrading.
Set non-negotiables for experience.
Non-negotiables are the elements that protect the visitor’s ability to understand, move, and act. They apply equally to a one-page brochure site and a complex multi-collection build on Squarespace. They also apply to database-driven products, where Knack interfaces and embedded workflows must remain predictable as records scale.
Readability as a baseline.
Legibility choices that reduce effort.
Readability is the hidden cost centre of most websites. When text is hard to consume, visitors do not complain, they leave. The damage shows up later as poor engagement metrics, weak lead quality, and higher support volume because users could not find or understand instructions. A readable site lowers friction at the exact moment the visitor is deciding whether the brand is worth their attention.
In practice, readability begins with typography choices that hold up across devices. That means selecting typefaces that render clearly on common operating systems, using a consistent scale, and resisting the urge to compress text into tight line heights for visual density. A design that looks “premium” in a mock-up can become exhausting on a mobile screen when the font is too light, the tracking is too wide, or the paragraphs are overlong.
Readability also improves when content is structured, not merely written. Headings, short paragraphs, and lists are not decoration, they are scanning tools. Most visitors skim until something proves relevance, then they slow down. That scanning behaviour is not a flaw in the audience, it is the default state of modern web use. The job of the page is to make the correct path obvious without demanding effort.
Typography hierarchy and rhythm.
Structure the page like a map.
A clear typographic hierarchy acts like signage in a building. It tells visitors where they are, what matters, and what comes next. If headings are visually too close to body text, the page becomes a wall. If headings are too dominant, the content feels like a list of slogans instead of guidance. The balance is created by consistent sizing, weight, and spacing, not by adding more styles.
Spacing is a functional tool, not “empty space”. The role of whitespace is to separate ideas so the brain can reset between them. Tight layouts can look efficient, but they often increase cognitive load, especially in knowledge content where the visitor is already processing unfamiliar concepts. Good spacing keeps the page calm and keeps comprehension moving forward.
Language choices are part of readability as well. Technical content should be technical when it needs to be, but it should not hide behind jargon. When specialist terms are required, they can be introduced with a short definition and then used consistently. That consistency matters in teams, because inconsistent naming becomes inconsistent user understanding, which becomes additional support burden.
Navigation without hesitation.
Let users predict the next step.
Navigation is not just menus. It is every cue that helps a visitor understand where content lives, how deep they are in the structure, and how to get back. On content-heavy sites, the navigation system is the difference between “exploration” and “getting lost”. When users feel lost, they stop trusting the site’s organisation and start assuming the brand is disorganised too.
Predictable navigation relies on consistency: the same patterns repeating in the same places, using the same labels. A common failure mode is over-customising navigation for style points, then paying for it later through confusion. If a menu interaction requires learning, it becomes work. Most visitors do not want to learn a website, they want to use it.
For Squarespace builds, predictability often means making sure templates behave consistently across collection pages, item pages, and blog articles. Even if the visual style is minimalist, the interaction model can still be rich. The key is that richness must remain legible, with interaction cues that do not depend on insider knowledge.
Accessibility as default quality.
Inclusive design reduces risk and churn.
Accessibility is frequently treated as a compliance box, but it is more accurately a quality standard. When a site works for more people, it also works better for everyone. Strong contrast improves readability in bright sunlight. Clear focus states help keyboard users and also help power users. Logical heading structure helps assistive technology and also helps SEO systems interpret the page.
Accessibility should be handled as a design constraint early because retrofitting it late is expensive and messy. Simple practices carry a lot of weight: ensuring colour contrast is sufficient, using descriptive link text, writing headings that reflect real structure, and avoiding interaction patterns that rely on hover alone. These choices reduce legal and reputational risk, but they also reduce abandonment because the site feels easier to use.
For teams building forms, checkouts, or database-driven experiences, accessibility extends into error states and validation. If a form fails without explaining why, users do not blame themselves, they blame the product. Clear feedback is part of inclusion, and it is also part of conversion.
Validate changes with experiments.
Once non-negotiables are in place, design decisions become testable. Testing does not remove creativity, it gives creativity accountability. It also protects teams from the most dangerous sentence in web projects: “It feels like it should work.” When a design change is measured, a team can learn quickly without arguing from opinions.
Use controlled comparison testing.
Prove impact before rolling out.
A/B testing is the simplest form of controlled experimentation: one change, two versions, measured outcomes. It works best when the change is specific and the desired behaviour is clear. Testing “an entirely new layout” often introduces too many variables. Testing a clearer headline, a shorter form, or a more prominent call-to-action usually produces cleaner learning.
For founders and SMB teams, experimentation should be sized to the organisation’s capacity. A small team does not need a laboratory. It needs repeatable habits: isolate one change, define what success looks like, run the test long enough to reduce noise, and record what was learned. Over time, these habits create a performance culture where improvements compound.
Testing is also defensive. It prevents a site from accumulating “clever” changes that feel modern but reduce performance. A feature that looks impressive can still be a net negative if it slows the page, distracts from primary actions, or confuses first-time visitors. Experiments keep the team honest about trade-offs.
Choose meaningful success metrics.
Measure what the business needs.
A test is only useful if it has a success condition. That is why metrics should be defined before launching a variant. Common options include click-through rates, form completion rate, scroll depth, time on page, and return visits. Some metrics are deceptive: time on page can mean engagement, or it can mean confusion. The metric must match the intent of the page.
For many teams, Google Analytics is enough to support early experimentation, as long as events are configured properly. Events turn vague behaviour into measurable actions: a click on a primary button, a start and completion of a form, an expansion of an accordion section, a download, or a signup. Without events, teams end up guessing from page views and leaving money on the table.
Quantitative metrics can be strengthened with visual behaviour tools such as heatmaps. Heatmaps can reveal mismatches between what the design suggests and what users actually do, such as repeated clicks on non-clickable elements or missed interactions because the control blends into the background. That insight can be more actionable than a simple percentage change.
Run tests with discipline.
Time, sample, and seasonality matter.
Experiment timing is a common failure point. If a test runs too briefly, results can be dominated by randomness, campaign spikes, or day-of-week patterns. If it runs too long, the business delays acting on learning. The right duration depends on traffic volume and the size of the expected effect, but the principle stays the same: collect enough data to reduce noise and avoid making decisions from a handful of sessions.
Teams should also consider where traffic is coming from during the test. A variant that performs well with paid traffic may underperform for organic visitors, because intent and patience differ. Segmenting results by source can expose those differences and prevent “global wins” that are actually local wins.
Sharing experiment outcomes internally is part of scaling quality. When results are documented, new team members learn faster, and stakeholder opinions become less disruptive. Over time, a library of outcomes becomes an operational asset: it captures what the audience responds to, what they ignore, and what consistently causes friction.
Protect mobile stability first.
Mobile is no longer an edge case for most websites. It is often the primary way a first-time visitor experiences a brand, especially for local services, consumer products, and social-driven discovery. A site that is beautiful on desktop but fragile on mobile is not half finished, it is unfinished.
Design responsively, not separately.
Consistency across screens builds trust.
responsive design is not about squeezing content into a smaller space. It is about preserving intent. On mobile, the hierarchy must remain clear, actions must remain tappable, and the site must remain fast. Responsive behaviour should be planned during layout decisions, not patched in with last-minute spacing tweaks.
Mobile stability also affects discoverability. Search systems increasingly evaluate the mobile experience when judging quality. While algorithms evolve, the practical reality remains: if a site performs poorly on mobile, it tends to underperform everywhere, because mobile issues often indicate broader structural or performance problems.
Teams using Squarespace should pay special attention to how templates handle images, stacked sections, and interactive blocks on smaller screens. A section that looks clean on desktop can become a scroll marathon if spacing and media are not controlled. The simplest mobile optimisation is often content discipline: fewer competing elements per section, clearer hierarchy, and shorter decision paths.
Optimise performance where it matters.
Speed is a usability feature.
Mobile users are often dealing with weaker connections and more interruptions. That means performance problems feel worse on mobile even if the raw load difference is small. Large images, heavy scripts, and unnecessary animations create latency that breaks the “instant” feel users expect. When a page feels slow, trust drops before the content is even read.
A practical optimisation is lazy loading for media, where below-the-fold images load only when they are near the viewport. Used correctly, this reduces initial payload and improves perceived speed. Used carelessly, it can cause layout shifts and visual instability. The goal is not to delay content, it is to deliver content in a sequence that matches user attention.
Performance work should include testing on real devices, not just emulators. Emulators are useful, but they rarely capture the messy reality of background apps, low power mode, and intermittent connectivity. Testing should cover multiple screen sizes, because breakpoints can hide issues that only appear at specific widths.
Make mobile forms frictionless.
Reduce typing, reduce drop-off.
Forms are often where mobile experiences fail. A long form that feels acceptable on desktop can become punishing on a phone. Simplifying forms is not just a UX improvement, it is a conversion strategy. Reducing required fields, using appropriate input types, and offering clear defaults can dramatically improve completion rates.
Autofill and sensible field ordering reduce the cognitive load of entering information. Dropdowns can help when there are limited options, but they should not become a dumping ground for unclear categories. A well-designed form guides the user through a sequence that feels obvious, with minimal backtracking.
Mobile form feedback must also be immediate and clear. If validation errors appear only at submission, the user experiences a sudden wall of corrections. Inline validation, clear messaging, and obvious recovery paths make completion feel achievable. When forms are predictable, support requests drop and trust rises.
Reduce novelty that adds support.
Novelty can be a trap. It can create a short-term feeling of “modernity” while quietly increasing confusion, support enquiries, and maintenance cost. A design element is not valuable because it is new, it is valuable because it makes the user’s next step clearer or faster.
Prefer clarity over cleverness.
Lower cognitive load, raise outcomes.
Overly unique interactions force users to learn a private language. That might be tolerable for a niche product with a devoted audience, but it is rarely suitable for broad services, e-commerce, or content-led brands. If the interface behaves differently from what users expect, they hesitate, misclick, and leave. The cost of that hesitation is measurable, even if it is not immediately obvious.
This is where user-centred design becomes practical rather than philosophical. It means designing for the user’s mental model, not the designer’s preferences. Familiar patterns, clear labels, and consistent feedback create an experience that feels effortless. Effortless experiences convert better and generate fewer “How do I…” messages.
Clarity also makes teams faster. When patterns are simple and repeatable, content updates are less risky, new pages inherit proven structure, and maintenance does not require specialist intervention. That operational benefit matters for SMBs who need to move quickly without breaking things.
Build self-serve support into UX.
Answer questions before they become tickets.
User support is often treated as a separate system, but good interfaces reduce support demand by design. Small, well-placed helpers can prevent confusion at the moment it appears. Options include tooltips for unfamiliar fields, microcopy that explains what happens next, and short onboarding prompts for multi-step tasks.
For complex journeys, guided tours can help, but they should be optional and skippable. Forced tours often frustrate returning users who already know what to do. A better pattern is progressive disclosure: reveal help when needed, keep the default interface clean, and let confident users move quickly.
A lightweight knowledge layer such as FAQs can also reduce repetitive enquiries, especially on service sites where visitors repeatedly ask about pricing, timelines, eligibility, and next steps. In some setups, an on-site search concierge can extend that idea by helping users find the right answer without leaving the page. When that approach fits the product, CORE can act as a structured self-serve layer, as long as the underlying content is accurate and the interface remains simple.
Handle errors like guidance.
Make recovery obvious and calm.
Error states are part of the experience, not exceptions. When something goes wrong, the interface is effectively having a conversation with the user. Poor error handling turns that conversation into blame, which damages trust. Clear error messages should explain what happened, why it matters, and what to do next, using language that respects the user.
Good error design also reduces internal workload. If users can correct issues without contacting support, the team regains time for higher-value work. That is especially important for ops and content leads who are already managing multiple systems: website updates, automation, CRM upkeep, and data integrity.
Where possible, errors should be prevented rather than explained. Sensible defaults, constrained inputs, and validation before submission reduce the frequency of failure. When failure does happen, recovery should be quick, with no lost progress and no need to restart the journey.
Keep improving with real feedback.
Usability is not a one-time achievement. Sites change, audiences evolve, and content expands. That means the quality bar must be maintained deliberately, using feedback and measurement as ongoing inputs rather than occasional check-ins.
Capture signals from real users.
Listen for friction, not opinions.
feedback mechanisms can be simple: a short form, a quick poll, or a “Was this helpful?” prompt on key pages. The aim is not to collect praise, it is to locate friction. Friction often shows up as repeated questions, confusing labels, or missing context that the team assumed was obvious.
user surveys can add depth when they are targeted. Instead of asking broad questions like “Do you like the site?”, more useful prompts focus on tasks: “What stopped you from completing this?” or “What information was missing?” Task-based questions produce actionable answers, while preference questions often produce noise.
Teams should treat feedback as data that needs triage. Not every comment deserves a change, but repeated patterns deserve attention. When a pattern is found, it can be tested, measured, and rolled into the non-negotiables so the same problem does not return in a new form six months later.
Turn learnings into standards.
Make quality repeatable across teams.
Continuous improvement becomes real when learnings turn into standards. A team that fixes the same issue repeatedly is paying an invisible tax. A team that updates its patterns is building compounding value. This is where continuous improvement stops being motivational language and becomes an operational method.
Standards can be documented as checklists and templates: spacing rules, heading structure, button sizing, form field order, and content patterns for common pages. For Squarespace, that can mean defining reusable section structures and keeping design decisions consistent across collections. For Knack and automation flows, it can mean defining naming conventions and predictable interaction patterns so users never feel surprised.
As a site matures, building a light community layer can also support learning and reduce support load. That might be a forum, a comments area with moderation, or a private group where users share how they use the system. Community is not required for every brand, but when it fits, it turns one-to-one support into shared knowledge.
With non-negotiables defined, experiments running, and mobile stability protected, the next step is to look at where design systems can be simplified into repeatable components that scale across pages, teams, and content growth without sacrificing performance.
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Implementation with controlled disruption.
Implementing anti-design is less about “making things ugly” and more about deliberately testing where convention helps, where it restricts, and where it can be safely bent without breaking comprehension. The practical problem is rarely taste, it is control. When disruption happens everywhere at once, teams lose the ability to explain what caused a drop in conversions, a rise in support tickets, or an increase in bounce. A controlled approach treats anti-design as a series of small experiments, each one scoped tightly enough that results can be interpreted, documented, and either kept, refined, or rolled back.
For founders and operators, implementation is where a style decision becomes an operational decision. A bold redesign might look exciting, yet it can also affect checkout completion, search behaviour, customer trust, and how quickly content teams can publish. The most effective anti-design implementations behave like product changes: they are staged, measured, and shipped with safeguards. That framing keeps creativity alive while reducing the chance that a visually disruptive idea quietly damages usability or SEO performance.
Disrupt one element at a time.
When a team disrupts one design element at a time, it becomes possible to observe cause and effect instead of guessing. A single-variable approach reduces noise, makes feedback easier to interpret, and lowers the cost of mistakes. It also protects schedules: a small typographic change is easier to ship, measure, and revert than a full overhaul that touches every template.
Choose the element and boundary.
Define the experiment’s edge clearly.
Start by selecting a single design lever, such as typography, then define where the change is allowed to appear. A controlled disruption might apply only to blog article headings, only to the homepage hero, or only to product grid titles, rather than across every page. Boundaries matter because they keep the experiment readable: if a user complains that “the site feels harder to scan,” the team can immediately connect that feedback to the one area that changed.
Practical constraints should be treated as part of the design, not an inconvenience. On Squarespace, for example, a disruption can be limited by targeting a specific page section or a specific block type, rather than injecting site-wide CSS that alters everything. In operations terms, that is a risk control tactic: the blast radius stays small, and the rollback path stays simple.
Measure impact without guesswork.
Track behaviour before personal preference.
Implementation is stronger when it is paired with a simple measurement plan for user experience. That does not require complex tooling at the start; it requires choosing a few signals that indicate whether the disruption is helping or harming. For an e-commerce page, those signals might include add-to-cart rate, checkout initiation rate, and product page scroll depth. For a blog, it might be time on page, internal click-through, and return visits. The point is not to chase every metric, it is to pick the ones that match the page’s job.
Where teams can, it helps to combine qualitative and quantitative feedback. Comments like “this feels confusing” are valuable, yet they become more actionable when paired with behavioural data showing where users stop scrolling, abandon forms, or fail to find navigation. This is also where the psychological angle becomes practical: Labrecque and Milne (2013) discuss how colours can evoke emotional responses, so a colour disruption should be judged not only by aesthetics but by whether it changes behaviour in a meaningful way.
Use a repeatable rollout process.
Ship small, learn fast, stay reversible.
Controlled disruption becomes easier when the team standardises the rollout pattern, even if the design itself is intentionally irregular. A simple workflow is: ship the change to a limited surface, monitor, gather feedback, then decide whether to expand. This pattern keeps implementation calm, especially for small teams that cannot afford to firefight daily.
Identify the single element to disrupt and define the pages it affects.
Capture a baseline snapshot of key metrics and user feedback.
Implement the change in a contained scope and publish.
Observe behaviour, collect feedback, and log issues as they appear.
Maintain, adjust, or revert based on evidence rather than opinion.
Balance disruption with consistency.
Anti-design works best when it has an anchor. Disruption without a stable reference point becomes exhausting, because users lose the patterns they rely on to orient themselves. A site can be visually challenging while still behaving predictably, and that predictability is what prevents “creative” from becoming “unusable”.
Keep core patterns familiar.
Let navigation remain the safe zone.
Consistency is not a lack of creativity, it is a usability strategy. When the navigation, footer, and basic page structure stay stable, users can tolerate more experimentation in layout, imagery, or typography. Norman (2013) emphasises that people lean on familiar patterns to navigate effectively, which means a team can break visual conventions while still respecting the behavioural conventions that make a site feel learnable.
For a founder-led site, stable patterns also reduce operational overhead. If the header changes from page to page, a content team must answer more questions like “where did the menu go?” or “how do I get back to the shop?”. A stable navigation scheme reduces support friction and makes the site easier to manage as content grows.
Separate “style disruption” from “flow disruption”.
Make the journey predictable, not the paint.
A useful mental model is to treat information architecture as the contract, and visuals as the playground. The contract covers the order of content, the location of primary actions, and the consistency of labels. The playground covers colour, type, composition, and motion. When a team disrupts the contract, users must relearn the site. When a team disrupts the playground, users can still complete tasks, even if the presentation feels unusual.
For product and growth leads, this separation supports cleaner experimentation. If conversion drops after a visual change, it is easier to attribute the drop to presentation rather than to a broken journey. That reduces internal debate and speeds up iteration, because the team is analysing one category of change at a time.
Use repetition to anchor patterns.
Repetition is what turns a chaotic aesthetic into a recognisable system. Anti-design often looks irregular at first glance, yet a careful viewer can still feel structure when certain elements repeat. That structure is what keeps the experience coherent, even when individual components feel deliberately “wrong”.
Pick a small set of repeating cues.
Repeat the cues that teach behaviour.
Choose a limited set of cues and repeat them relentlessly. A team might repeat a specific button colour, a specific heading weight, or a recurring graphic motif that signals “this is interactive”. In practice, this can be as simple as using one consistent treatment for calls-to-action, then allowing everything else to be more experimental. This approach supports recognition: users learn what a primary action looks like, then they can navigate the rest of the page with confidence.
Tullis and Albert (2008) connect visual consistency with trust and engagement, which is especially relevant when the aesthetic is intentionally disruptive. If the site is going to challenge expectations, it must also provide signals that users can rely on. Repetition becomes a trust mechanism, not a decorative choice.
Standardise interaction styling across templates.
Keep clicks recognisable everywhere.
When interactive elements look different on every page, users waste energy reinterpreting the interface. Standardising styles for links, buttons, and form fields reduces that cognitive tax. On Squarespace, this often means defining a consistent set of styles for primary and secondary actions, then applying them across product pages, blog posts, and landing pages. The anti-design expression can still live in layout and composition, but the “what can be clicked” language stays consistent.
Use one primary button style and reserve it for the main action.
Keep link styling consistent so users can scan for navigation cues.
Apply the same form field layout across forms to reduce friction.
Reuse icon patterns if icons are part of the interface language.
Make interaction states obvious.
Anti-design can be visually loud, yet interaction must remain readable. Users should not need to guess whether something is clickable, loading, or completed. The more unconventional the layout becomes, the more important clear feedback becomes, because the interface is already asking users to work a little harder to interpret it.
Design clear response to actions.
Feedback should beat cleverness every time.
The clearest way to keep a disruptive interface usable is to prioritise interaction states. Hover, active, focus, error, and success states tell users what just happened and what they can do next. Nielsen (2000) highlights the importance of feedback for maintaining satisfaction, and that principle becomes even more important when the aesthetic is intentionally challenging. In practical terms, if a button looks unusual, it must still behave predictably when pressed.
This is where implementation details matter. A visually experimental button that provides weak feedback can feel broken, even if it is technically working. Strong feedback can be subtle, yet it must be unmistakable. For accessibility and clarity, focus states must remain visible for keyboard users, and error states must be clear for form completion.
Communicate waiting and progress.
Loading should never look like failure.
In modern interfaces, delays are unavoidable: images load, scripts run, data fetches occur. In an anti-design environment, a delay can be misread as a design choice, which makes clarity even more important. Clear loading states reduce uncertainty and prevent users from clicking repeatedly or abandoning the page. The goal is simple: the interface should never leave users wondering whether the site heard them.
For teams working with dynamic content, this can extend beyond visuals. If a site uses embedded tools, external forms, or database-driven content, it helps to ensure that components show progress indicators and fail gracefully. When a disruption is purposeful, the team should avoid accidental disruption caused by ambiguous loading behaviour.
Use distinct hover and focus styles for buttons and links.
Provide clear confirmation for form submissions and errors.
Make progress visible when content is loading or updating.
Test interactions on mobile, where hover is not available.
Add surprise with intent.
Unexpected elements are one of anti-design’s strengths, yet surprise without purpose quickly becomes noise. The strongest surprises serve the journey: they draw attention to important content, reward completion, or help users remember a concept. When surprise becomes random, it stops feeling playful and starts feeling unreliable.
Make novelty relevant to the task.
Surprise should support the goal.
Sweller (1988) discusses the role of relevance in learning, which maps neatly onto surprise in interface design. If an unusual animation or layout helps users remember where something is, or understand what a button does, it can enhance comprehension. If it distracts users from completing a task, it increases cognitive burden. In implementation terms, surprises should be attached to moments that already carry meaning, such as completing a signup, successfully purchasing, or finishing a multi-step form.
For content-led sites, surprise can also be used to create memorable reading experiences without blocking comprehension. A disruptive layout can highlight key sections, yet the text must remain readable, and the hierarchy must remain clear. Anti-design should amplify communication, not replace it.
Test surprises with real users.
Validate delight, avoid accidental frustration.
Surprises are often polarising. The team implementing them should test with users who reflect the target audience, not only with internal stakeholders who already understand the brand. A quick round of feedback can reveal whether the surprise feels delightful, confusing, or simply irrelevant. For operators, this is also a prioritisation tool: if a surprise adds complexity without measurable upside, it can be removed before it becomes a maintenance burden.
When the site is part of a larger system, testing should include the full environment. A surprise that works on desktop might fail on mobile, or an animation might feel smooth on a fast connection but stutter in real-world conditions. Testing across devices and network conditions helps keep the disruption intentional, rather than accidental.
Use whitespace as structure.
Whitespace is one of the most practical tools for making anti-design readable. When colours clash or layouts become asymmetrical, whitespace provides the breathing room that helps users parse information. It is also a strong tool for hierarchy: spacing can signal importance as effectively as font size.
Design breathing room into chaos.
Space is a functional design element.
Krug (2014) notes how clarity improves when content is easy to scan, and whitespace is one of the simplest ways to improve scanning. When a page is visually dense, users spend more time decoding structure rather than absorbing content. Strategic whitespace reduces that decoding effort. It separates clusters of ideas, guides attention to key actions, and makes reading less tiring.
This matters for SEO-driven content too. A page that is hard to read tends to be abandoned, which reduces engagement signals. If a blog post is the entry point for discovery, whitespace can be the difference between a visitor staying to explore and leaving after a few seconds of visual overload.
Group content into meaningful clusters.
Chunk information the way people think.
Whitespace works best when paired with clear content grouping. Instead of long, unbroken blocks of text, content can be clustered into sections that match how readers process information: premise, explanation, example, and practical steps. This is where anti-design can actually help, because unconventional composition can visually reinforce the idea of clusters, as long as spacing keeps the clusters distinct.
Increase spacing around key calls-to-action to make them stand out.
Use margins and padding to separate unrelated ideas.
Group related content so users can scan and jump confidently.
Keep line lengths readable, especially on desktop screens.
Test, iterate, and document.
Anti-design is rarely “done” after the first implementation. It improves through iteration, because real users reveal what theory cannot. A disruptive choice might be inspiring in a design review, then underperform in the wild because it slows scanning or hides key actions. Iteration is what keeps the approach honest.
Build a feedback loop.
Feedback should be continuous, not occasional.
Lee and Kim (2019) highlight the value of iterative design and ongoing user testing, and that lesson becomes more important when a site is intentionally unconventional. A feedback loop can include surveys, short user interviews, embedded feedback prompts, or support ticket analysis. The aim is to keep a steady stream of signals coming in, so small issues are caught early instead of becoming systemic problems.
In operational terms, feedback is also prioritisation. If users repeatedly struggle with the same interaction, it is a sign that the disruption is affecting the contract rather than the playground. That is a strong reason to adjust, even if the aesthetic is compelling.
Use controlled comparisons.
Compare variants, not vibes.
A/B testing is one of the cleanest ways to evaluate design choices because it compares outcomes under similar conditions. A team can test a disruptive layout against a more conventional layout, then compare engagement and conversion outcomes. Even without complex infrastructure, controlled comparisons can be run by testing changes on one high-traffic page while keeping others stable, then comparing performance over a meaningful timeframe.
For teams working across Squarespace, Knack, Replit, and Make.com workflows, the key is not the platform, it is the discipline. The same disciplined approach that applies to automation and data handling applies to design: change one variable, measure, record, then decide. When a site is supported by tools that enable controlled rollouts, such as modular code injections or tightly-scoped enhancements, disruption becomes safer to explore. In contexts where it fits naturally, systems like Cx+ or CORE can support controlled experimentation by making changes easier to isolate and manage, yet the value still depends on measurement rather than on claims.
Document decisions and outcomes.
Turn experiments into organisational memory.
Documentation stops the team from repeating mistakes. It also speeds up future work, because it captures what was tested, what changed, what happened, and why the team chose to keep or remove the change. Documentation can be lightweight: a short changelog entry, screenshots, notes on metrics, and a summary of user feedback. The point is to preserve learning, especially when anti-design invites more experimentation than a conventional approach.
Record the hypothesis and the specific element disrupted.
Log where the change was applied and how it was implemented.
Capture baseline and post-change metrics plus user feedback.
Write a decision note: keep, adjust, or revert, with reasoning.
Store the results where future contributors can find them easily.
Once a team can ship controlled disruptions reliably, the next step is deciding which parts of the experience deserve to be challenged and which parts should remain stable by design, because that choice determines how far anti-design can go without undermining trust.
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Typography as a statement.
Typography is not a decorative afterthought; it is a behavioural and emotional lever that shapes how people interpret information. Letterforms carry tone before a single sentence is fully read, and they can imply seriousness, playfulness, authority, urgency, or dissent. Within anti-design, type becomes a deliberate signal: it can question what “professional” is supposed to look like, force a pause, or create friction that makes the message feel more human. That power is useful, but it also comes with responsibility, because type choices can help people move through a page or they can quietly block access to the meaning.
When designers treat typography as an intentional system rather than a set of pretty fonts, they gain control over attention, comprehension, and momentum. A headline can behave like a signpost, body text can behave like a conversation, and microcopy can behave like a safety rail. Anti-design simply raises the stakes by making the system more visible, more opinionated, and sometimes intentionally uncomfortable. The craft is in knowing which rules to bend, which rules to keep, and how to keep the message readable even when the aesthetic is rebellious.
Type can signal rebellion or irony.
In anti-design, anti-design typography often behaves like a wink. It can borrow “bad” visual language on purpose, such as clashing typefaces, awkward spacing, or intentionally blunt presentation, to critique polished brand behaviour or to emphasise authenticity over perfection. The objective is not to be messy for its own sake; it is to make the viewer notice the construction of the message and question the default expectations of taste. When it works, the typographic discomfort becomes meaning: the design says something beyond the literal words.
Disruption as a typographic tool.
Break the pattern, keep the message.
Disruptive typography can be a fast route to attention, but attention is not comprehension. A layout that feels chaotic still needs anchors that allow the brain to recognise structure: titles, sections, and the difference between primary statements and supporting detail. Designers who study experimental editorial work often point to David Carson as an example of how typography can challenge readability norms while still creating a strong emotional response and a distinct visual voice [1]. The lesson is not “copy the chaos”; it is that typographic rule-breaking needs intent, context, and a clear reason for the reader to keep going.
Rebellion in typography also shows up as irony: quotation marks, deadpan labels, “system” fonts used in luxury contexts, or overly literal, blunt headings that feel like they are mocking marketing language. These moves can be effective when the audience understands the reference and the brand has earned permission to be self-aware. When the audience does not share the context, the same choices can read as accidental, cheap, or confusing. Anti-design typography is a cultural conversation, and conversations require shared language.
Brand examples that feel human.
Imperfection as an identity signal.
Brands sometimes use imperfect type to convey approachability, honesty, or “unpolished truth”. Oatly is often cited for employing hand-drawn typography and informal typographic decisions that align with an anti-establishment tone [2]. The mechanism is straightforward: irregular shapes and hand-made feel can reduce corporate distance, making the message feel closer to a person than an institution. That approach can resonate with audiences who value transparency, humour, or social commentary more than pristine presentation.
Similar strategies appear across sectors. Slack’s marketing is known for friendly, informal typographic presentation that supports an approachable product personality, and Off-White has used quotation marks and typographic framing as commentary on luxury cues. The practical takeaway is that rebellious typography is rarely random: it typically sits on top of a coherent brand stance. When the stance is unclear, typography alone cannot manufacture authenticity; it can only perform it, and audiences tend to notice the difference.
Hierarchy still matters in chaos.
Even when typography is playful, abrasive, or intentionally “wrong”, readers still need guidance. A clear typographic hierarchy helps people understand what is important, what is supporting detail, and what can be skipped without losing the thread. Anti-design often increases cognitive load by breaking familiar patterns, so hierarchy becomes the compensating mechanism that keeps the content usable. In practice, hierarchy is how experimental design stays readable long enough to deliver its point.
Build structure with simple signals.
Make scanning effortless, even here.
Hierarchy does not require traditional aesthetics; it requires consistent signals. Size, weight, spacing, and placement can do most of the work. If headings are always heavier and separated by space, readers will find them even if the font is unconventional. If body text maintains consistent rhythm, the page becomes navigable even when other elements feel deliberately rough. The aim is to keep the reader oriented, not to impress them with complexity.
Whitespace is frequently treated as a minimalist luxury, but in anti-design it becomes a functional weapon. Whitespace can isolate the important message, create pacing, and reduce visual noise without making the overall aesthetic feel “clean”. A layout can still be rebellious while giving text breathing room. That breathing room is what prevents a striking idea from collapsing into fatigue.
Practical hierarchy tactics.
Small rules that protect clarity.
Hierarchy becomes easier to maintain when it is treated like a system of constraints rather than a single design decision. One useful approach is to define a limited set of type roles and keep them stable across a page: headline, section title, body, caption, UI label. Then experimentation can happen inside roles without breaking the reader’s map of the content.
Use a deliberate typographic scale so headings and subheadings are predictably different.
Vary font weight and style to create emphasis without needing multiple font families.
Use spacing and alignment as “quiet” structure when the font choice is loud.
Reserve extreme decisions (huge type, tight tracking, odd alignment) for moments that genuinely need emphasis.
A useful mental check is to ask whether a reader could skim only the headings and still explain what the page is about. If the answer is no, the hierarchy is not doing its job. Anti-design can challenge comfort, but it should not remove orientation unless disorientation is the message, and even then it should be used sparingly.
Legibility on small screens is non-negotiable.
Mobile-first reality makes legibility a baseline requirement, not a nice-to-have. Type that looks edgy on a large monitor can turn into visual mud on a phone. If the reader cannot decode the words quickly, the design stops being a statement and becomes a barrier. Anti-design should still respect the constraints of real devices, real lighting, real attention spans, and the simple fact that most people scroll quickly.
Design for inclusion, not just style.
Readable for everyone, everywhere.
Typography choices affect accessibility directly. Weight, size, spacing, and contrast are the difference between “interesting” and “unusable” for many people, including those with low vision or cognitive processing differences. Designers do not need to abandon experimental typography to support inclusion; they need to choose where the experiment lives. A common pattern is to keep body text stable and readable, then push experimentation into headings, accents, and supporting visual components.
Legibility is also influenced by background behaviour. Grainy textures, busy images, or low-contrast colour combinations can make text harder to read, especially on lower-quality screens or in sunlight. A simple discipline is to test typography in a few realistic scenarios: a phone outdoors, a laptop on low brightness, a dark-mode environment, and a smaller viewport with zoom. The point is to catch failure modes before users do.
Mobile legibility guidelines.
Simple checks that prevent failures.
Some typographic choices consistently perform better on small screens. For example, sans-serif faces often remain clearer at small sizes because they have simpler forms, though that is not a universal rule. The key is to prioritise clarity, then style the edges. If a decorative font is essential to the brand statement, it can be used in controlled places, while the main reading text uses a more stable option.
Maintain generous line spacing and avoid cramped blocks of text.
Keep strong contrast between text and background, especially for body content.
Avoid excessively thin weights that vanish on small screens.
Test across device sizes, not only in a desktop browser resize.
Anti-design often plays with discomfort, but it should not play with basic readability unless the piece is explicitly art-first. If the content is educational, commercial, or instructional, the job is to communicate. Typography can still be rebellious while being clear.
Long-form reading needs typographic restraint.
Anti-design can be exciting in short bursts, but long-form reading is a different kind of task. It requires rhythm, consistency, and a sense of calm that keeps the reader inside the content rather than constantly noticing the layout. Experimental typography can still exist, but it needs to be deployed strategically. If every paragraph is a typographic event, the reader spends more energy decoding presentation than absorbing meaning.
Protect attention over novelty.
Stop the layout from shouting.
Over-experimentation increases reader fatigue. Fatigue does not always show up as frustration; it often shows up as silent abandonment. Readers skim, lose their place, and leave. The fix is not to remove personality, but to give the personality a job. Headings can carry the experimental voice, pull quotes can carry the provocative tone, and supporting visuals can carry the anti-design texture. The body text can then do its actual job: deliver knowledge.
Designers working on long-form content benefit from thinking in “typographic stamina”. Stamina is built through consistent line length, steady spacing, predictable paragraph structure, and restraint in how many font styles appear. When a design needs to make a statement, it can do so at the start of a section, then settle into a readable cadence. That cadence is what keeps the reader engaged long enough to reach the point.
Best practices for readable depth.
Consistency is a hidden feature.
A practical method is to limit the number of fonts and treat them as a deliberate font pairing decision rather than a mood board. Two families is often enough: one for headings, one for body text. Variation can then come from weight, size, spacing, and layout decisions. That keeps the typographic palette coherent even when the aesthetic is intentionally rough around the edges.
Keep paragraphs structured and avoid walls of text that create visual resistance.
Use subheadings to break thought sequences into digestible steps.
Add visual breaks such as imagery, lists, or whitespace to reset attention.
Maintain consistent alignment patterns so the eye does not re-learn the layout every scroll.
This balance creates a useful outcome: the page can feel expressive without becoming exhausting. Anti-design becomes a flavour and a stance, not a reading obstacle.
Typography influences behaviour and trust.
Typography is tightly linked to user experience because reading is an interaction, not a passive act. People constantly make micro-judgements: whether the content seems credible, whether it feels safe to follow a link, whether they believe the brand understands them. Type contributes to those judgements in quiet ways. A stable, readable body style implies care; a chaotic layout can imply honesty or incompetence depending on the context and audience expectations.
The classic distinction between serif and sans-serif still matters as a perception tool. A serif face can carry tradition, editorial weight, or heritage, while a sans-serif can carry modernity and neutrality. Anti-design can intentionally flip those signals: using formal type in a playful context, or using raw, casual type in a serious context, to create tension. That tension can be effective when it reinforces the message, but it can also harm trust when it looks like a mistake. The safest approach is to decide what the reader should feel, then choose type that supports that emotion rather than fighting it.
Cultural and psychological layers matter.
Typography does not land in a vacuum. It carries cultural context, and different audiences attach different meanings to the same visual cues. A typeface can evoke a decade, a political movement, a local tradition, or a subculture. Anti-design often borrows from zines, punk aesthetics, early web weirdness, or underground editorial culture. Those references can create strong connection with the right audience and total confusion with the wrong one.
Designing with cultural awareness.
Meaning changes across audiences.
Every region has its own typographic traditions, including different norms for spacing, density, and what is considered formal or informal. Designers who work for global audiences benefit from stress-testing their typographic choices: what does this type evoke in different markets, and could it accidentally signal something unintended? This does not require paralysis; it requires curiosity and a willingness to validate assumptions with real feedback.
Psychology matters too, because typography affects how easily the brain can process information. When type is hard to parse, comprehension slows and frustration rises. When type is clear, the message feels easier, and ease often gets misinterpreted as credibility. That is one reason typography can “feel true” even when it is simply well-structured. Anti-design can challenge that effect, but it still needs to respect how people read: clarity creates momentum, and momentum is what keeps attention long enough for insight to land.
Technology changed typographic possibilities.
Digital tools expanded typographic choice dramatically, and that expansion is both empowering and risky. More options mean more chances to build a distinctive voice, but also more ways to create inconsistency across browsers and devices. This is where responsive typography becomes essential: type must adapt to the user’s context without losing the intended hierarchy and tone.
Technical depth for stable type.
Make the layout adapt gracefully.
On the technical side, typography is controlled through a handful of core variables that determine readability. Line height influences how quickly a reader can track lines without losing their place. Letter spacing affects clarity at small sizes. Line length affects fatigue, because overly long lines increase the effort of returning to the next line. Designers can experiment visually while still anchoring these fundamentals, which is often the difference between “bold” and “broken”.
Modern web typography also includes practical implementation decisions: loading performance, fallback fonts, and consistency across environments. Variable fonts can reduce the number of font files required while allowing multiple weights and styles, which can support performance and flexibility when used carefully. The principle remains the same: the visual statement should not sabotage speed, readability, or consistency, because those are part of the experience the user actually feels.
Testing as part of design craft.
Assume failure, then prove success.
Strong typography is rarely achieved in one pass. A practical approach is to build a small testing matrix that covers the real-world scenarios a page will face: different devices, different browsers, different lighting conditions, and different content lengths. Testing is where anti-design becomes professional rather than accidental, because it reveals which “rebellious” decisions still function under pressure and which ones collapse when the context changes.
When typography is treated as a system, it becomes easier to scale across a website. A lightweight design system, even an informal one, can capture typographic roles, spacing rules, and hierarchy patterns so the experience remains coherent as content grows. That coherence matters for educational content and for SEO-focused publishing, because search traffic brings mixed audiences and mixed devices. If the typographic system holds, the message travels further.
Typography can carry rebellion, irony, clarity, and trust all at once when it is designed as an intentional system. Anti-design makes the typographic choices louder, which makes the fundamentals more important, not less. The next step is to look at how layout, spacing, and overall composition can support the same stance, so the page feels expressive without sacrificing comprehension.
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Accessibility guardrails.
Accessibility guardrails keep a website usable when design trends shift, content grows, teams change, and deadlines apply pressure. The goal is not perfection on day one; it is building a set of decisions that reliably prevent common failures, such as unreadable text, invisible interaction cues, confusing structure, and forms that punish users for making normal mistakes. When these guardrails are present, accessibility stops being a specialist task and becomes a practical quality baseline that supports conversion, search visibility, and trust.
These guardrails also work well for mixed-ability teams, from founders shipping quickly on Squarespace, to operations leads managing content in Knack, to developers wiring automations in Replit and Make.com. A site that is designed for assistive needs tends to be easier to maintain because the rules are explicit, predictable, and testable. The sections below translate that mindset into repeatable checks and patterns that can be applied during design, build, and ongoing updates.
Contrast and readability.
Contrast decisions are where accessibility most often fails in plain sight. Brand palettes, hero images, and minimal typography can look clean yet become unreadable for users with low vision, glare, ageing eyes, or simply a poor screen. Strong contrast is a guardrail because it reduces the number of edge cases that need “special handling” later, and it makes every other interaction more reliable, from buttons to form hints.
Meet baseline contrast targets.
Readable text is a non-negotiable interface contract.
A practical starting point is to align text and background combinations with Web Content Accessibility Guidelines (WCAG) expectations, because they provide a consistent language for “good enough” across teams and tooling. The commonly referenced targets are 4.5:1 for normal text and 3:1 for large text, but the more useful takeaway is operational: treat contrast as a measurable requirement, not a subjective judgement.
It helps to treat the contrast ratio as part of the design specification, alongside spacing and typography. When a palette is approved, define which pairings are allowed for body text, small labels, buttons, and disabled states. This removes ambiguity for anyone building pages later, including non-designers, and it prevents quiet regressions when new marketing assets are added.
Overlay patterns matter as much as colours. Text placed over images is a frequent failure point because the background is not stable. If a banner image changes, the text may suddenly fall below acceptable contrast in parts of the image. A robust pattern is to introduce a consistent overlay layer or a solid text container, so the text always sits on a predictable backdrop. That approach protects readability without forcing every image to be manually edited.
Define approved text-on-background pairings for primary, secondary, and muted text.
Assume image backgrounds are unstable and add overlays or containers by default.
Check contrast in states that matter: hover, active, disabled, and visited links.
Support scanning and comprehension.
Legibility is more than colour selection.
Even with compliant contrast, readability can collapse if the layout fights scanning. Line length, line height, and spacing between paragraphs influence how quickly users can parse content. A readable system aims for calm rhythm: consistent spacing, headings that clearly separate concepts, and body text that does not feel “compressed”. This is especially important for long-form educational content where the user’s cognitive load is already high.
Small interface details can also undo good contrast work. Text placed on translucent backgrounds, tiny placeholder text, and low-contrast helper hints often become invisible. Treat those as real content, not decorative. If a hint is important enough to include, it is important enough to be readable. This is where content leads, marketing, and ops teams can accidentally create accessibility debt by pasting in styled copy that looks fine on their screen but fails in real usage.
Focus and interaction cues.
Interactive elements need to announce themselves clearly, and they must remain clear when the user is not using a mouse. The hidden issue is that many accessibility failures only appear during keyboard navigation, when focus moves around the page and the user depends on visual cues to know where they are. Strong focus styling is a guardrail because it prevents “lost cursor” scenarios and makes complex pages feel navigable.
Make focus states unmistakable.
Keyboard users need a visible location beacon.
A visible focus state should be treated as part of the component design, not an afterthought. When a user tabs to a link, button, menu item, or form field, the focused element must stand out without requiring perfect eyesight or a perfect monitor. Borders, outlines, and background changes can all work, as long as the result is obvious and consistent.
One common trap is relying on subtle colour shifts that only a designer notices. If focus feedback looks similar to the default state, it fails the real-world test. Another trap is focus that is present but clipped by containers, hidden by overflow rules, or obscured by sticky headers. These failures happen frequently in modern layouts that use layered sections, animated elements, and “card” components.
Consistency matters more than flair. If every component shows focus in a different way, users have to relearn the interface constantly. A reliable pattern is to create a single focus style that is applied across interactive components, with exceptions only when necessary. That turns focus styling into a system rule, which is easier to maintain as a site grows.
Use a consistent focus style across links, buttons, inputs, and custom controls.
Check focus visibility against light and dark backgrounds, and over imagery.
Verify focus is not clipped by containers or hidden by overlays.
Separate focus from hover.
Hover is optional, focus is essential.
Hover effects are helpful for mouse users, but they do not translate to touch screens and they do not guarantee keyboard usability. Treat hover as an enhancement, and treat focus as a baseline. When both exist, ensure they do not conflict visually. If hover uses a subtle underline and focus uses a strong outline, the interaction model becomes predictable: one indicates “pointer interest”, the other indicates “current position”.
It is also worth checking the states of interactive elements that are visually styled to look like buttons but are implemented as links, or vice versa. That inconsistency can confuse assistive tooling and also lead to broken keyboard behaviour. Guardrails here mean using the right element for the job, then styling it to match the design system.
Semantics that communicate.
Semantics are the structural grammar of a web page. When they are correct, assistive tools can describe the page accurately, search engines can interpret content reliably, and teams can maintain pages without unintended breakage. When semantics are wrong, the interface becomes a set of disconnected visual blocks that only work for users who can see and interpret the layout in a specific way.
Use meaningful HTML elements.
Structure should exist beyond visual styling.
Using semantic HTML is not about purity; it is about reducing ambiguity. Headings should be headings, lists should be lists, and buttons should behave like buttons. This ensures that an assistive technology stack can interpret what the interface is trying to do, rather than guessing based on styling.
A practical example is content hierarchy. A clean heading hierarchy allows users to skim using a screen reader the same way sighted users skim by scanning headings. If heading levels jump around or are used purely for styling, navigation becomes harder. This also affects long posts and documentation, where structure is the difference between “readable” and “overwhelming”.
In Squarespace, the editor makes it easy to produce visually pleasing layouts, but it is still possible to misuse headings for size rather than meaning. A guardrail approach is to decide what each heading level represents in the content model, then stick to it. For example: H2 for section titles, H3 for sub-sections, H4 for clusters. This keeps structure consistent across articles, landing pages, and support content.
Use headings to represent content structure, not typography.
Use lists for grouped items instead of manual line breaks.
Use buttons for actions and links for navigation destinations.
Keep accessibility maintained.
Accessibility is a maintenance discipline.
Accessibility is not a one-time sprint because content and layouts change. A realistic guardrail is to schedule a lightweight accessibility audit at intervals that match how often the site changes. For a busy marketing site, that might be monthly or quarterly; for a more stable brochure site, it might be tied to major releases.
Audits do not need to be heavy to be valuable. Even a repeated checklist that verifies contrast on new banners, keyboard navigation through primary flows, and correct heading structure can catch the majority of issues early. The important part is consistency: the same checks, applied repeatedly, prevent the gradual drift that makes a site inaccessible over time.
Keyboard-first usability.
Keyboard usability is where accessibility becomes tangible. If a user can complete the critical tasks using a keyboard alone, a large class of accessibility needs is automatically supported. It also tends to improve general usability because the interface becomes more predictable: controls behave consistently, navigation flows logically, and interaction does not depend on precision pointer input.
Ensure full keyboard operation.
If it can be clicked, it must be tabbable.
Keyboard navigation should support all interactive components, including custom UI patterns such as dropdowns, tabbed interfaces, accordions, and modal dialogs. The baseline expectation is simple: users can reach each control, understand where they are, and activate actions using Enter or Space. Anything less creates a hidden dead-end for users who do not use a mouse.
One of the most common failures is a broken tab order. If focus jumps unpredictably, skips important controls, or gets trapped in a component, the page becomes frustrating or unusable. The guardrail here is to check the primary user journeys with the keyboard from start to finish: navigation to content, content to form, form completion, and any confirmation steps.
Complex pages often introduce focus traps accidentally through overlays, sticky elements, or hidden panels that still contain focusable items. This is why testing should include real scenarios: open menus, expand accordions, trigger error messages, and confirm focus returns to a sensible place after an action completes.
Tab through the page and confirm focus reaches every interactive control.
Confirm activation works with Enter and Space where appropriate.
Ensure focus returns to a logical place after closing overlays or dialogs.
Use ARIA thoughtfully.
Augment semantics only when needed.
When building dynamic components, ARIA roles and properties can improve how state and intent are communicated, particularly when native elements are not used. The key is discipline: ARIA should not be used to compensate for incorrect structure, and it should be applied consistently so screen readers receive accurate information about what is happening.
For example, an accordion should convey which panel is expanded, and a menu should convey whether it is open. When the interface changes without a page refresh, assistive tools need reliable signals. ARIA can provide those signals, but only if the component logic keeps ARIA attributes in sync with real state. If attributes drift out of sync, the interface becomes misleading, which is worse than having no ARIA at all.
For teams working in no-code and low-code contexts, ARIA often enters the picture through embedded scripts or third-party components. The guardrail approach is to prefer components with accessibility baked in, and to test the end result rather than assuming compliance because a library claims it.
Shortcuts with restraint.
Speed features must not break core controls.
Keyboard shortcuts can be a productivity win, especially for power users and internal systems. A well-designed keyboard shortcut feature can reduce friction for repeated actions, such as opening a search, jumping to a help panel, or moving between sections in a dashboard. The danger is collisions with browser shortcuts, assistive tooling shortcuts, and user expectations.
When shortcuts are introduced, they should be optional, documented, and designed to avoid common browser combinations. They should also degrade safely: if shortcuts fail or are disabled, the interface remains fully operable. In practice, that means shortcuts should never be the only way to access functionality.
Clarity beyond visuals.
Visual design can be engaging, but it should not be the only carrier of meaning. When meaning is locked inside colour, position, or decorative flourishes, it becomes inaccessible to users with visual impairments and it can also confuse users in different contexts, such as mobile glare, low-quality displays, or high zoom levels. Clarity guardrails ensure that the interface communicates in more than one channel.
Do not encode meaning in colour.
Red and green cannot carry the message alone.
Relying on colour alone fails users with colour blindness, and it also fails in situations where colours are distorted by screens or environmental conditions. If a form marks required fields only by colouring labels, users may miss the requirement. A better pattern is pairing colour with text, icons, or explicit markers that remain visible regardless of perception differences.
This principle applies beyond forms. Status badges, charts, availability indicators, and validation states all benefit from redundant cues. For example, a status chip can use colour but also include a short word label, and an error can use a red border but also include an explicit message. This makes the interface more resilient, not only more accessible.
It also encourages more thoughtful design. When a team is forced to express meaning with text and structure rather than pure decoration, the user experience typically becomes clearer for everyone.
Pair colour cues with labels, icons, or short helper text.
Ensure important signals remain visible at high zoom levels.
Avoid decorative UI that looks meaningful but conveys nothing.
Error handling that teaches.
Errors are part of normal use, especially on forms. People mistype, misunderstand labels, and get interrupted. Good error handling protects the user’s momentum by telling them what happened, where it happened, and how to fix it. This is a guardrail because it prevents frustration, reduces drop-off, and makes the site feel trustworthy rather than punitive.
Make error states explicit.
Explain the problem and the repair path.
An error state should be clear, local to the problem, and written in plain English. If an email address is invalid, the message should say what is wrong and what “valid” looks like. Vague messages like “Invalid input” force users to guess, which increases abandonment and support load.
Visual indicators such as borders and icons can help, but they must be paired with descriptive text so the meaning is not lost for users who cannot perceive colour differences. Place messages near the relevant field where possible, and ensure the message is announced appropriately for assistive tooling when the error appears.
For longer forms, a top-of-form error summary can improve recovery by giving users a checklist of what needs attention. This is particularly useful when users submit and the page scroll position changes or when errors exist outside the viewport. The summary can point users to the exact fields that need fixing, which reduces hunting.
Preserve user input.
Never punish effort by wiping the form.
When users submit a form and errors occur, retaining input is one of the simplest ways to reduce frustration. If the form clears, users must re-enter data, which increases drop-off and can be especially difficult for users using assistive tools or those with motor impairments. Data retention acts as a respect signal: the system acknowledges the user’s effort and helps them finish.
From a system perspective, form persistence also reduces repeated submissions and support messages. Users are more likely to correct and complete when the cost of correction is low. This is an area where teams can gain measurable improvements without redesigning the whole interface, simply by choosing patterns that keep state stable after validation.
Write error messages that describe the issue and provide a fix example.
Use an error summary for long forms or multi-step flows.
Keep user input intact when validation fails.
Alternative text and multimedia.
Images and multimedia often carry critical information, from product details to instructional guidance. Accessibility guardrails ensure that users who cannot see or hear the media can still understand the content. This also improves content operations, because clear descriptions create searchable, reusable assets that can support SEO and internal knowledge bases.
Write meaningful alt text.
Describe function, not just appearance.
Alternative text should explain what the image communicates in context. If the image is decorative, it should not interrupt the reading flow. If the image explains something, the description should capture the intent. A generic “image of a dog” is rarely useful; a description that conveys the relevant detail is what helps users understand why the image exists.
Alt text also supports better content reuse. When teams later repurpose assets across pages, the existence of good descriptions prevents the need to rediscover what each image was supposed to communicate. For e-commerce and documentation, this becomes a practical workflow benefit, not just a compliance checkbox.
Support video and audio access.
Give users more than one way to consume content.
For video, captions are essential for users who are deaf or hard of hearing, and they also help users in noisy environments or those who prefer silent browsing. A transcript provides a full text version that can be searched, skimmed, and referenced later. That is valuable for educational content because users can jump directly to the part they need.
Where visuals convey essential information, audio description can provide context that the spoken narration does not cover. This is especially relevant for tutorial videos that demonstrate interfaces, where the “click here” instruction is meaningless without the visual location being described. Even a short descriptive line in the transcript can close the gap in many cases.
These media practices also integrate well with modern content systems. If a team is already producing structured support content, this is a natural place to mention tools like CORE when it genuinely fits the workflow, because media and transcripts can become part of a searchable knowledge base that answers questions quickly. The underlying point remains the same: accessible media is structured media, and structured media scales better.
Describe images based on their purpose in the page, not their artistic detail.
Provide captions and transcripts for video content where possible.
Include descriptive context when visuals are essential to understanding.
Testing and continuous improvement.
Accessibility is best validated by real usage, not only by tools. Automated checks are useful for catching obvious failures, but they cannot fully simulate how people navigate and interpret a site. Testing is the guardrail that prevents a false sense of confidence, because it reveals how the system behaves under real constraints.
Test with real users.
Reality testing catches what tooling misses.
usability testing that includes participants with disabilities often surfaces issues that do not show up in automated scanning. It can reveal confusing navigation, unclear labelling, unexpected focus jumps, and interactive elements that are technically present but practically unusable. Observing users complete tasks provides direct insight into where the experience breaks down.
Even small-scale testing helps. Watching one user navigate with a screen reader can highlight structural problems quickly, such as headings that do not represent the content, links that repeat the same text, or controls that lack meaningful names. These findings tend to be actionable and high impact.
Create a feedback loop.
Let users report issues as they happen.
A lightweight feedback loop gives users a direct path to report accessibility issues, which is valuable because real users encounter edge cases that a team will not predict. This can be as simple as a short form or contact method that explicitly welcomes accessibility feedback. The key is responding and iterating, so users see that reports lead to improvements.
Over time, these reports can become part of an internal knowledge base of recurring problems, which helps teams prioritise fixes. Patterns emerge: a certain component fails on mobile, a specific form step is confusing, a particular page template is missing structure. When guardrails are updated based on real feedback, accessibility improves in a way that remains aligned with real-world usage, not theoretical compliance.
As the section moves forward, the next step is to connect these guardrails to day-to-day build practices, such as component checklists, content templates, and publishing workflows, so accessibility stays intact as pages scale and teams move faster.
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Embracing imperfection for real connection.
Why imperfection earns attention.
In web design, perfection can quietly become a liability. When every grid is flawless, every photo is polished, and every sentence feels pre-approved, the interface may function, yet still feel distant. Audiences do not only judge a site by clarity and speed; they also react to whether the experience feels human, grounded, and believable. This is where “imperfection” stops being a stylistic rebellion and becomes a practical way to reduce emotional distance.
Perfection as a design risk.
Perfect surfaces can feel untrustworthy.
Hyper-consistent interfaces tend to signal high control, and high control can read as “corporate” even when the brand is small. That can be helpful in regulated industries, though it can also flatten personality and remove warmth. The risk is not that polished design is wrong; the risk is that polish becomes the only story the interface tells. When everything looks manufactured, users subconsciously wonder what else has been manufactured, such as testimonials, claims, urgency timers, or “limited stock” messaging.
Imperfection, used intentionally, gives the experience a pulse. A slightly off-centre illustration, a playful caption that reads like a real person wrote it, or an unexpected colour pairing can break the pattern long enough for the user to notice the brand behind the pixels. It also helps remove the sense that the site is trying too hard to impress. When the interface relaxes, the user often relaxes too, which can increase exploration and time on site.
The pratfall effect, applied.
Small flaws can increase likeability.
Psychology offers a useful lens through the pratfall effect, where minor mistakes can make an otherwise competent person seem more relatable. In interface terms, that does not mean adding broken layouts or confusing journeys. It means allowing controlled roughness that signals humanity without harming usability. A hand-written annotation near a product image, a candid note in the footer, or an “imperfect” illustration style can make the site feel like it belongs to people, not templates.
This works best when the core product promise is still delivered cleanly. Navigation should remain obvious. Forms should remain readable. Calls to action should still be discoverable. The “flaw” is an accent, not the structure. When the main journey stays stable and the tone becomes more human, the interface can trigger trust through familiarity rather than authority.
Benefits that map to outcomes.
Relatable design can drive behaviour.
When a site departs from the expected patterns in a thoughtful way, it can earn a second look. That second look is valuable because most visits are fast scans, not deep reads. A human-feeling detail can slow the scan just long enough for the user to notice the message, the offer, or the next step. That is the behavioural value: a minor aesthetic decision can change whether the user bounces or continues.
It can strengthen emotional connection, because the interface feels like a conversation rather than a broadcast.
It can increase exploration, because novelty creates curiosity without demanding effort.
It can improve brand believability, because the experience avoids the “too perfect to trust” signal.
It can support memorability, because distinctive details create clearer recall later.
Humanising visuals without chaos.
Humanisation is often misunderstood as “make it messy”. The real goal is to create warmth while preserving clarity. That usually means choosing one or two signature cues that feel handmade or tactile, then applying them consistently enough to feel intentional. A brand can look imperfect and still be disciplined, because discipline is about rules, not about looking sterile.
Handmade cues that scale.
Texture can soften digital sharpness.
Using hand-drawn elements can immediately shift the emotional tone of a page. Icons that look sketched, arrows that feel scribbled, or small illustrated flourishes near headings can create a sense of approachability. This is not only aesthetic. These cues imply that someone took time to craft the experience, which can improve perceived care and reduce the feeling of mass production.
Roughness works best when it is paired with clean layout logic. For example, a site can keep a strict content grid, strong spacing, and readable typography, then layer a sketch style on top. Users get the best of both worlds: scanning remains easy, while the brand feels more personal. This is especially valuable for service businesses, agencies, and niche e-commerce, where trust is built through tone and credibility rather than sheer scale.
Real-world example signals.
Distinctive brands break the template feel.
Brands such as Oatly have shown how crude illustration and conversational writing can feel intentional rather than amateur. The point is not to copy a look; it is to copy the logic: make the interface reflect the brand’s personality, then keep usability standards high. When a brand voice is clear, imperfections read as character. When the voice is vague, the same imperfections read as mistakes.
For teams building on Squarespace or similar platforms, the discipline is often in the constraints. Templates encourage uniformity, which is helpful for speed, yet risky for differentiation. A small set of humanising elements can counter that, giving a site a signature without requiring a full custom build. It also keeps the brand recognisable across pages, which matters when content grows over time.
Typography that feels spoken.
Copy can sound like a real voice.
Design is not only visual. Typography choices and writing rhythm influence whether a site feels human. Overly formal copy can create distance, even if the visuals are warm. Casual, conversational phrasing can reduce friction, provided it stays precise. This is a balance: clarity first, personality second, humour only when it supports comprehension.
A practical approach is to treat headings like spoken statements, keep sentences short where decisions are being made, and place detail lower on the page where committed users will read it. This is not dumbing down. It is matching cognitive effort to context. Users making choices benefit from crisp language; users learning benefit from fuller explanations.
Playful motion that supports intent.
Playfulness can be a tool for guidance, not just decoration. When motion is used well, it communicates state, feedback, and progression. When motion is used poorly, it becomes noise. The difference usually comes down to whether the animation clarifies what is happening, or simply tries to entertain.
Micro-moments that reward action.
Feedback makes interactions feel alive.
Micro-interactions are small responses to user behaviour: a button that subtly acknowledges a click, a form field that confirms valid input, a menu icon that transforms to reflect open and closed states. These details reduce uncertainty, which is one of the main hidden costs in digital experiences. When uncertainty drops, users move faster and make fewer mistakes.
Playfulness should not fight the user’s goal. A loading animation can be charming, yet if it delays content or distracts from a task, it becomes friction dressed as personality. A better pattern is subtlety: animation that is quick, purposeful, and tied to the interface state. The user should feel it, not analyse it.
Quirky illustration with structure.
Delight is easier when layout is stable.
Quirky illustrations can add surprise, though they need boundaries. The safest boundary is a stable layout system: predictable spacing, consistent heading hierarchy, and a clear primary call to action. Inside that stability, the illustration can be playful without causing confusion. This is especially important on mobile, where screen space and attention are both limited.
For product and growth teams, this is where design connects to measurement. If playful elements are introduced, they should be tested against metrics that reflect user intent: scroll depth, click-through rate to key pages, form completion rate, and support enquiries per visit. If the experience becomes fun but less effective, the brand may gain style while losing outcomes.
Implementation strategies that last.
Playful does not mean ungoverned.
Use motion to clarify state changes, such as open or closed, saved or unsaved, active or inactive.
Introduce story-driven animation only where it supports understanding, such as explaining a process or showcasing a feature.
Design loading states that reduce perceived wait, while keeping the underlying performance work prioritised.
Set constraints for motion duration and frequency so pages remain calm and predictable.
Authenticity as a UX strategy.
Authenticity is often framed as a branding concept, though it is also a user experience decision. When a site shows real people, real language, and real context, it reduces the user’s suspicion that they are being manipulated. That matters because suspicion increases friction. It slows decisions, increases bounce, and pushes users to search for verification elsewhere.
Anti-design, used responsibly.
Raw aesthetics can still be user-friendly.
Anti-design pushes against the idea that digital experiences must look polished to be effective. The useful part of that mindset is the permission to be direct. It allows a brand to prioritise meaning, honesty, and clarity over “premium” visuals. It does not excuse broken accessibility, poor contrast, unreadable text, or confusing navigation. The user’s time still matters.
The strongest versions of this approach treat authenticity as a constraint. If a brand promises simplicity, the interface should avoid unnecessary steps. If a brand claims transparency, pricing and limitations should be visible without hunting. If a brand says it is community-driven, the site should show evidence of community, not just slogans.
Realness beyond imagery.
Honesty can appear in many formats.
Authenticity can be expressed through candid photography, though it also appears in product descriptions, onboarding flows, and support content. A clear “what this is and what it is not” section can prevent mismatched expectations. A transparent change log can show momentum. A short note explaining why a policy exists can reduce frustration because it respects the user’s intelligence.
It is also where evidence matters. Testimonials are stronger when they contain specifics, constraints, and context. Case studies are stronger when they describe what did not work before the improvement. Even in educational content, credibility rises when the writing names trade-offs and edge cases instead of presenting everything as universally correct.
Community-building mechanics.
Belonging is an interface outcome.
Showing user-generated content alongside polished messaging can create a valuable tension: the brand looks competent, while the community looks real. Reviews, photos, and short stories can make a site feel inhabited. This is particularly powerful in niche markets where trust is built through shared identity. The interface becomes more than a storefront; it becomes a proof-of-life signal.
Community does not have to mean a forum. It can mean a curated wall of customer outcomes, a monthly spotlight on a client’s story, or a “how people use this” section that shows different use cases. It can also mean creating small feedback loops that make users feel heard, such as a lightweight “Was this helpful?” prompt on help pages. Those loops provide insight for the business and validation for the user.
Applying imperfection with discipline.
Imperfection works when it is engineered, not when it is accidental. That requires a practical process: decide where the brand wants to feel human, decide what must remain precise, then design rules that protect both. This can be done in a small team without heavy bureaucracy, as long as decisions are documented and consistently applied.
Start with intent, not style.
Define what “human” should mean.
A brand can be human in different ways: warm, playful, blunt, curious, or rebellious. The interface should reflect the chosen flavour. If the site wants to feel warm, handwritten notes and softer textures may fit. If it wants to feel blunt, direct copy and stripped-back layouts may fit. If it wants to feel playful, small surprises and charming motion may fit. The decision should come before the assets, otherwise the site becomes a collage of trends.
This is also where the Japanese idea of Wabi-Sabi becomes relevant: beauty can exist in the transient, the imperfect, and the incomplete. In digital terms, that can mean allowing elements that feel slightly organic, accepting that not every component needs symmetrical precision, and designing a site that looks “alive” rather than frozen. The philosophy is less about aesthetics and more about permission to avoid sterile perfection when the brand’s goal is connection.
Guardrails that prevent damage.
Protect usability before experimenting.
Maintain readable hierarchy: clear headings, predictable spacing, and stable navigation across pages.
Keep accessibility non-negotiable: contrast, keyboard navigation, focus states, and readable font sizes.
Limit novelty to a few signature elements so the experience stays coherent as content expands.
Measure behavioural impact: track whether the human touches increase exploration without harming conversion.
Document rules in a lightweight design system so future pages do not drift.
Operationalising authenticity at scale.
Process turns style into consistency.
As content grows, consistency becomes harder. Blogs, product pages, landing pages, and support articles can drift into different tones, which weakens the “human” feeling because the brand starts sounding like multiple organisations. This is where operational tools matter. A team can set editorial rules, content templates, and review workflows that keep voice consistent while still allowing personality.
For teams running content-heavy sites on Squarespace or data-driven experiences in Knack, structured content also creates better self-serve journeys. When help articles, product specs, and FAQs are written with consistent formatting and clear intent, they become easier to navigate and easier to reuse. In some setups, an on-site search concierge such as CORE can then surface that structured content quickly, reducing repetitive support messages and keeping the user in the flow of the site. The design benefit is indirect but real: the interface feels more responsive because answers are easier to find.
Imperfection, at its best, is a decision to prioritise connection while still respecting the user’s time. The next step is to look at how this philosophy collides with other interface trends, especially design movements that deliberately exaggerate minimalism or complexity, and how teams can choose the right level of “roughness” for their audience without sacrificing performance or clarity.
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Real-world anti-design success stories.
Real-world brand wins rarely come from aesthetics alone. They come from decisions that shape how people feel, what they remember, and whether they trust what they are seeing. That is where anti-design becomes a practical strategy rather than a visual gimmick. It intentionally disrupts polished conventions to create something more human, more specific, and easier to recognise in a crowded interface environment.
In modern web design, many brands face the same structural problem: a familiar set of templates, similar typography systems, and repeated UX patterns that make websites feel interchangeable. When everything looks “correct”, it can also look forgettable. Anti-design responds by embracing imperfection and a slightly messy honesty that signals authenticity, which is a quality many audiences now treat as a stronger trust cue than visual perfection.
The brands that succeed with this approach are not ignoring usability. They are choosing where to break rules and where to keep the basics stable. Their work shows that emotional engagement is not an abstract concept. It is created through specific choices: language, tone, rhythm, layout tension, and a willingness to look different while still behaving reliably.
Why imperfection can win.
Anti-design works when it is treated as a controlled system rather than a chaotic aesthetic. The difference matters. Controlled systems create recognisable patterns, while chaos creates friction that users cannot recover from. The goal is to produce a deliberate “feel” that makes the brand memorable without making the interface confusing.
Signal humanity without losing clarity.
Imperfect cues can increase trust.
Many users interpret overly polished experiences as corporate, distant, or overly manufactured. A slightly rough illustration, an unexpected layout, or candid microcopy can create a sense of personality and presence. That presence helps users believe the brand is run by people with a viewpoint, not just a marketing machine. The strongest implementations keep legibility, navigation, and content structure consistent, then add “human noise” in places that do not break comprehension.
Anti-design also benefits from boundaries. When everything is unconventional, nothing stands out. A better pattern is to keep primary navigation and content hierarchy familiar, then introduce disruption in visuals, supporting components, or campaign pages. That structure gives users a stable mental model while still offering something fresh enough to be remembered.
Break patterns in saturated feeds.
Distinctiveness beats “best practice” sameness.
The modern attention economy is shaped by repetition. Users scroll through near-identical layouts across product pages, landing pages, and even brand storytelling pages. Anti-design earns attention by creating a moment of friction that is interesting rather than annoying. It can be as simple as unexpected whitespace, playful asymmetry, or typography that looks hand-touched rather than mathematically aligned.
When this is done well, users do not just “notice” the design. They form a stronger memory trace because their brain had to process something slightly unusual. That memory helps brand recall later, which is often more valuable than a short-term visual compliment.
Keep “how to move” predictable: menus, buttons, and key actions should behave consistently.
Make “what this is” unmistakable: headings, product names, and page purpose should be obvious quickly.
Let “how it feels” be the differentiator: illustration style, tone of voice, and layout rhythm can carry the brand personality.
Case studies from modern brands.
Anti-design becomes easier to understand when it is anchored in brands that have used it repeatedly, not as a one-off campaign. Three mainstream examples show different versions of the same core idea: be recognisable, be emotionally resonant, and break conventions in ways that reinforce what the brand stands for.
Oatly’s deliberate roughness.
Handmade visuals that signal a stance.
Oatly uses crude illustrations and handwritten-style text to communicate a clear personality that feels anti-corporate and direct. The design is not “unfinished” by accident. It is a cue that the brand is willing to say things plainly and challenge mainstream categories. That stance is echoed across touchpoints so the user experiences consistency, even when the visuals look intentionally unpolished.
A key reason this works is that the roughness is not applied everywhere equally. Content remains readable, layouts remain scannable, and information architecture stays functional. The aesthetic is disruptive, but the experience remains usable. That balance helps Oatly avoid the common anti-design trap where “quirky” becomes “hard to navigate”.
Anti-establishment copy that stays accessible.
Oatly’s tone often feels conversational, occasionally self-aware, and intentionally non-corporate. In practical terms, that means shorter sentences, plain language, and a willingness to acknowledge complexity without hiding behind jargon. For founders and teams, the lesson is not to copy the style, but to connect visual choices to a clear message. If the brand message is “transparent and direct”, then the interface should not feel like it is hiding behind decorative polish.
Use imperfect illustration or typography as a brand cue, not as decoration.
Keep readability high: contrast, spacing, and typography scale must remain reliable.
Make sure the “rough” elements are consistent across pages, so the style feels intentional.
Ben & Jerry’s playful activism.
Whimsy carrying serious values.
Ben & Jerry’s leans into playful asymmetry, bold colours, and quirky typography to project a fun-loving personality. What makes it compelling is that the playful layer is not separate from the brand’s values. The same loudness and energy that sells flavour also supports the brand’s public stance on social justice and environmental topics. The design acts like a megaphone for the brand’s worldview, not just a wrapper for products.
From a strategy perspective, this shows why anti-design is often strongest when it has something to say. Brands that try anti-design purely for “standing out” can feel forced. Ben & Jerry’s feels coherent because the visual language matches the brand’s voice: confident, opinionated, and willing to be a little chaotic if it helps keep attention on the message.
Design as a form of public commitment.
The practical takeaway is that values can be translated into interface decisions. If a brand claims it is community-first, it can show that by making calls-to-action clear, educational pages easy to find, and campaign information structured so users can act. Anti-design becomes the emotional entry point, while the underlying UX ensures people can follow through on curiosity.
Spotify Wrapped as controlled chaos.
Personal data turned into celebration.
Spotify demonstrates how anti-design can succeed inside a highly functional product ecosystem. The annual Spotify Wrapped campaign uses dynamic, imperfect layouts that feel personal, energetic, and share-ready. The visual language often looks like a collage: punchy shapes, surprising spacing, and a rhythm that feels more like pop culture than corporate reporting.
What makes Wrapped powerful is that it turns usage data into a narrative. Instead of presenting analytics as a sterile dashboard, it frames them as identity signals: “this is what the year sounded like”. That framing makes users feel noticed, which increases emotional engagement and encourages sharing.
The campaign also scales because it uses user-generated content as its distribution engine. Users become the carriers of the campaign by posting their results publicly, which expands reach without requiring Spotify to buy attention in the same way. The anti-design style helps the content stand out on feeds where polished brand graphics often blur together.
How sharing becomes a growth loop.
Wrapped is not just a design trend. It is a case study in how design, data, and social behaviour can reinforce each other. The anti-design visuals are a layer, but the real success comes from how the experience is packaged, paced, and made easy to distribute.
Personal metrics that feel like a gift.
“Seen” is a strong retention signal.
When users receive personalised summaries, it can feel like recognition rather than reporting. That matters because recognition is sticky. It increases the chance users return, explore, and associate the brand with a positive emotion. This is why Wrapped tends to become an annual ritual for many users. It is less about the exact numbers and more about the feeling that the platform understood how they spent time.
Other brands can apply the same principle without copying the aesthetic. The key is to convert behaviour into a story: what happened, what it implies, and what the user might enjoy next. Even simple recaps can work if they are framed as identity-aware summaries rather than generic dashboards.
Distribution built into the experience.
Make sharing effortless and intentional.
Social platforms such as Instagram and TikTok reward content that is immediately legible, visually distinct, and emotionally expressive. Wrapped content fits those constraints because it uses bold shapes, clear headline statements, and a format that feels designed for screens rather than for print logic. It is a reminder that modern campaigns often succeed when distribution is treated as part of the product, not as an afterthought.
For teams trying to replicate the mechanic, the process is more important than the style. A practical framework looks like this:
Choose a small set of metrics users actually care about, not everything that can be measured.
Convert each metric into a short statement that feels personal rather than analytical.
Present the content in a consistent sequence so users can anticipate and follow the story.
Provide a one-tap share flow with layouts that remain readable when cropped or resized.
Effects on engagement and identity.
Anti-design changes how users interpret a brand, not just how they rate its visuals. It can shift the perceived distance between brand and user, making a company feel more approachable and more human. When that happens, engagement often becomes deeper, because users feel they are interacting with something that has a point of view.
Relatability and consumer psychology.
Imperfection can feel more believable.
The original discussion references findings suggesting audiences often respond well to brands that show some imperfection, because it increases relatability and approachability (Smith, 2020). This is less about “messy design” and more about how the brain interprets cues. If something looks too perfect, it can feel engineered and emotionally distant. If something looks slightly rough but still coherent, it can feel like it has been made by real people for real people, which can strengthen trust.
This connects directly to consumer behaviour. When users trust a brand, they are more willing to spend time on the site, explore content, and recommend it. Anti-design can contribute to that outcome by signalling honesty and personality, provided the fundamentals of usability remain intact.
Storytelling as a design function.
Visual style supporting narrative intent.
Anti-design often works best when it supports storytelling rather than replacing it. The point is to strengthen the narrative a brand is already telling: its stance, its humour, its values, and its role in culture. The original text notes that narrative-based approaches are particularly effective in today’s content-heavy environment (Johnson, 2021). In practical terms, this means design should guide a user through a journey: curiosity, recognition, understanding, then action.
That journey becomes part of brand identity. Users do not remember every feature, but they remember how a brand made them feel and how easy it was to get what they needed. Anti-design can increase memorability, but the brand still needs structure: clear headings, purposeful page hierarchy, and obvious routes to key content.
Applying anti-design with guardrails.
For founders and teams, the safest way to adopt anti-design is to treat it as a layer applied over a stable system. That system includes accessibility, performance, content structure, and SEO fundamentals. Without those, the “unconventional” look can become a liability because users cannot complete tasks quickly or confidently.
Keep the non-negotiables stable.
Unconventional visuals, predictable behaviour.
Anti-design should rarely touch core navigation patterns, form usability, and content readability. Those are the foundations that let users move without thinking. A simple rule works well: break rules in places where users are browsing, keep rules in places where users are completing tasks. That means a campaign page can be visually wild, while checkout and account pages should remain calm and familiar.
Maintain clear information hierarchy: headings should look like headings and scan quickly.
Protect readability: line length, spacing, and contrast should not become “stylistic sacrifices”.
Prioritise performance: heavy visual experimentation should not inflate load times or block rendering.
Preserve accessibility: keyboard navigation, focus states, and readable type remain essential.
Support findability: internal search, metadata, and structured content still matter.
Technical depth for web teams.
Controlled chaos benefits from a system.
Teams working in Squarespace often have limited layout freedom compared to fully custom builds, so anti-design tends to come from typography choices, spacing rhythm, imagery style, and microcopy rather than from complex component logic. That constraint can be a strength because it encourages discipline. The same applies across operational stacks: if content and campaigns are driven by structured workflows, then creative experimentation becomes repeatable rather than random.
For example, a team might store campaign variants and copy blocks in Knack, automate scheduling and publishing hand-offs with Make.com, and generate lightweight assets or campaign summaries using server-side scripts in Replit. The anti-design layer then becomes a presentation choice, while the backend remains consistent and scalable. That separation reduces risk, because the “feel” can evolve without breaking the workflow that produces the content.
Even in unconventional interfaces, users still need fast answers. When a site leans into playful layouts, a strong assistance layer can keep friction low, which is where a tool like CORE can fit naturally as a way to preserve clarity without forcing the visual style back into corporate sameness.
Future directions and new mediums.
Immersive experiences invite new anti-design forms.
The original discussion points to the possibility of anti-design evolving through immersive technologies such as augmented reality and virtual reality. The important idea is not that every brand needs those mediums, but that anti-design tends to thrive when a platform change opens up new creative constraints. As interfaces become more spatial, more interactive, and more personalised, the opportunity for “imperfect humanity” may expand beyond typography and layout into motion, sound, and environment.
That said, the underlying principle remains steady: design should express a viewpoint while keeping the user oriented. The more advanced the medium, the more important it becomes to protect comprehension, task completion, and user confidence.
With these examples in mind, the next useful step is to explore where anti-design fails, what common implementation mistakes look like, and how teams can measure whether “unconventional” design is improving outcomes or simply creating noise.
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Future of anti-design.
Anti-design becomes a usable language.
The anti-design movement is unlikely to remain a niche aesthetic for long. As more teams reach for visual distinctiveness and a stronger emotional signal, anti-design will keep evolving from “rule breaking” into a repeatable design language that can be applied with intent. The next phase is less about random chaos and more about controlled disruption: layouts that look imperfect on purpose, typography that feels candid rather than corporate, and interactions that carry personality without collapsing into confusion.
Part of the momentum comes from saturation. When many sites converge on the same polished patterns, a deliberately rough edge becomes a form of differentiation inside modern web aesthetics. The contrast works because it reads as human. Imperfections can imply honesty, reduce the feeling of over-engineered marketing, and create a sense that the brand is willing to be bold. That tone matters in crowded markets where “professional” visuals are no longer enough to be memorable.
Signals that will shape adoption.
Deliberate imbalance, with clear intent.
Anti-design will expand through patterns that look unconventional but still communicate hierarchy. Designers will keep borrowing from zines, posters, and early web culture, yet the most successful work will remain navigable. The visual shock is only useful when it guides attention towards what matters, such as a product benefit, a core message, or a next step.
One practical reason the movement will spread is the rising sophistication of layout tooling. Modern builders, component libraries, and responsive layout systems make it easier to test odd compositions without breaking the site across devices. The result is more experimentation with asymmetric structures that still land correctly on mobile and remain stable for performance and maintenance.
Texture returns to digital surfaces.
Hand-drawn and sketch-like elements will likely appear more often, especially where a brand wants to signal craft, community, or personality. These touches can be light, such as a scribble underline or imperfect iconography, or heavy, such as a collage-like hero block. The key is consistency: when texture appears, it should connect to a broader system rather than being a one-off gimmick.
Typography will keep playing a major role because it is the fastest way to change tone without adding heavy media. Strong typographic decisions can make a site feel conversational, urgent, playful, or confrontational. The future version of anti-design will treat type not as decoration, but as the primary interface material that drives scanning, comprehension, and flow.
Increased use of asymmetrical layouts that break predictable grids while still preserving scannable structure.
Integration of hand-drawn and sketch-like elements to signal authenticity and reduce “template” energy.
Intentional colour clashes that create emotional tension and strong recall.
Raw typography choices that feel direct, candid, and human, while still remaining legible.
Creativity without usability collapse.
As anti-design becomes more common, the competitive advantage will shift from “being different” to “being different responsibly”. The constraint is usability. A site can be visually loud and still be easy to use, but only if the underlying structure is disciplined. The fastest way to fail with anti-design is to confuse users about where to look, what is clickable, or how to recover after a wrong move.
Balancing creativity with a stable experience means keeping a clear navigation path and a reliable visual hierarchy, even when the surface looks chaotic. The surface can be surprising, but the journey should be coherent. A visitor should always know where they are, what is available, and how to progress, regardless of how unconventional the layout appears.
Keep orientation without sanitising style.
Structure does the heavy lifting.
Anti-design is most effective when the “messy” part is layered on top of a sound information architecture. Navigation, page structure, and content grouping should be stable first. Once that foundation is in place, disruption can be applied to typography, spacing, composition, and imagery without creating a broken experience.
This often means deciding which elements must remain predictable. For example, a top-level navigation can remain consistent across the site while the landing page hero becomes experimental. A product grid can remain sortable and scannable while the editorial sections become more playful. The point is not to make everything chaotic, but to decide where chaos is valuable.
Feedback prevents mis-click anxiety.
Interactive feedback mechanisms become even more important when layouts are unconventional. Users rely on signals that confirm what is clickable and what will happen next, such as hover states, active states, loading indicators, and simple micro-interactions. Without feedback, anti-design can feel like a trap, especially for users who do not enjoy exploration.
Strong interaction cues also reduce accessibility risk. When a component looks unusual, it should behave predictably. If a button does not look like a button, it should still respond like one. If a link is styled creatively, it should still be discoverable through clear interaction states.
Test for behaviour, not taste.
Measure confusion, not opinions.
Creative work attracts subjective feedback, yet usability problems show up as patterns in behaviour. Regular usability testing helps separate “some people dislike this look” from “people cannot complete a task”. Small tests can be enough: watching a handful of users attempt a key journey often reveals navigation friction, unclear labels, or attention misdirection that analytics alone cannot explain.
When a team has enough traffic, A/B testing can validate whether anti-design elements improve engagement or reduce it. The important part is choosing the right metrics. A higher time-on-page might mean deeper interest, or it might mean users are lost. Conversion metrics, successful task completion, scroll depth, and exit rate usually provide a clearer picture when combined.
Implement clear visual hierarchy even when composition is intentionally irregular.
Use interaction feedback to confirm clickable elements and reduce uncertainty.
Test variations that change one major variable at a time, such as typography scale or navigation placement.
Consider hybrid approaches where experimental styling is concentrated in high-impact sections.
Inclusivity also becomes a practical concern, not a slogan. Different age groups, cultural backgrounds, and levels of technical familiarity will interpret unconventional patterns differently. A site that feels fun to one segment can feel broken to another. The future of anti-design will reward teams that understand their audience and apply disruption where it supports comprehension rather than replacing it.
Hybrid design becomes the mainstream bridge.
The future is likely to favour hybrid design patterns that blend anti-design energy with familiar structures. This approach gives brands the best of both worlds: enough novelty to stand out, enough predictability to remain usable. Hybrids are also easier to maintain because the underlying system can stay consistent while experimental styling is swapped, iterated, or limited to certain page types.
Hybrid design often works by choosing one or two dimensions to disrupt while keeping the rest stable. A site might keep a standard layout but introduce intense typographic contrast. Another might keep conventional navigation but use unexpected colour systems in editorial sections. These decisions create “moments” without turning the entire experience into an endurance test.
Combine familiarity with surprise.
Traditional scaffolding, experimental accents.
A clean layout can become a canvas for anti-design details. A product page can remain structured and conversion-focused while a campaign landing page becomes louder and more expressive. This separation is valuable because it aligns creativity with purpose: experimentation supports attention and storytelling, while stable patterns support completion and confidence.
Hybrid choices also support brand identity. If a brand wants to be seen as innovative, a controlled injection of unconventional typography or clashing accents can communicate that message quickly. The key is to keep the disruption aligned to the brand’s tone. A playful brand can lean into irreverence, while a serious brand might use anti-design sparingly as emphasis.
Traditional layouts with bold, clashing colour accents in controlled areas.
Standard navigation paired with experimental typography in headings and editorial blocks.
Classic imagery complemented by hand-drawn illustration overlays for texture.
Use tension to support storytelling.
Contrast becomes narrative structure.
Hybrid design can strengthen storytelling by creating visual tension between “order” and “disruption”. A brand can move a visitor from a clean introduction into a chaotic, expressive section that carries emotional weight, then return to clarity for the call to action. This rhythm keeps engagement high while still guiding users through a clear journey.
When teams apply this idea well, anti-design becomes a tool for pacing. It can signal “pay attention”, break monotony, and create memorable hooks that keep users exploring. The more saturated the market becomes, the more valuable those hooks become, as long as they do not compromise the ability to complete tasks.
Accessibility becomes non-negotiable.
Anti-design will only scale responsibly if accessibility is treated as a design constraint, not an optional layer added at the end. The movement can easily drift into low contrast, illegible typography, confusing interactions, and inconsistent structure. Those choices exclude users, and they also damage performance metrics that matter to businesses, such as conversion, retention, and support load.
The future version of anti-design will reward teams that can deliver expressive visuals while still working with assistive technologies. That includes screen readers, keyboard navigation, and other accessibility tools that depend on consistent structure and clear signals. When a site is experimental, structure becomes even more important because it provides the semantic map users rely on.
Design for readability first.
Legibility is not optional.
High contrast between text and background remains essential, especially when colour palettes are intentionally confrontational. The best approach is to treat contrast checks as part of the design workflow rather than a late-stage fix. If a visual choice reduces readability, it should be redesigned, not defended.
Typography experimentation should also respect reading comfort. Large headings, irregular line lengths, and playful type choices can exist, but body text should remain easy to scan. When designers want to use raw typography, the safer move is to concentrate it in headings, pull quotes, and decorative moments, while keeping long-form text stable.
Make unconventional layouts navigable.
Predictability sits under the chaos.
Navigation should remain clear on every device, including small screens where anti-design layouts can collapse into clutter. Responsive behaviour is not simply about resizing; it is about preserving intent. A layout that is deliberately irregular on desktop might need to become more linear on mobile, not as a compromise, but as a necessary translation of the design’s purpose.
Images and decorative elements should also remain interpretable. Providing alt text where appropriate keeps meaning available to users who cannot see imagery. When visuals are purely decorative, they should not create noise for assistive tools. This discipline protects users and improves content clarity overall.
Finally, responsive design needs to be integrated early. Anti-design often relies on unusual spacing and composition, which can behave unpredictably across breakpoints. Treating responsive behaviour as a first-class requirement prevents the common failure mode where the desktop version feels intentional, and the mobile version feels broken.
Ensure high contrast between text and background for readability.
Provide alt text for meaningful visual elements and keep decorative visuals from adding noise.
Maintain clear navigation paths and consistent interaction signals across the site.
Community feedback becomes a design engine.
The anti-design movement has always been shaped by community, and that role will increase as the style becomes more visible. Community feedback loops allow designers to see how real people interpret unconventional choices, not just how other designers judge them. When feedback is collected responsibly, it helps refine bold ideas into experiences that still work for the audience.
Designers will keep using social platforms, forums, and direct user conversations to understand reactions. This can turn design into a more collaborative practice where users feel involved in shaping the experience. It also provides a warning system: if a particular stylistic choice creates confusion or frustration, feedback can surface that early before it becomes a long-term UX problem.
Collect signals without chasing noise.
Combine qualitative and quantitative insight.
Polls and comments can capture emotional reactions, yet they can also skew towards louder voices. A stable approach is to combine community sentiment with behavioural evidence from analytics and testing. When both align, confidence increases. When they conflict, deeper investigation is needed to understand whether the issue is taste, usability, or misalignment with audience expectations.
Community insight also helps identify emerging preferences before they become mainstream. Anti-design is sensitive to culture, trends, and shifts in what people consider “authentic”. Designers who listen carefully can avoid copying aesthetics blindly and instead develop a voice that feels relevant to the current moment.
Utilise social media polls to gauge preference direction, not to finalise decisions.
Encourage comments and discussions on design forums and communities to capture nuance.
Host workshops or webinars to gather structured feedback from real users.
Cultural shifts will keep reshaping style.
Design trends are downstream from values. Cultural shifts influence what audiences tolerate, celebrate, and reject. Anti-design, with its embrace of imperfection, maps well to a broader desire for individuality and honesty, especially in contrast to overly polished marketing. That tension is likely to continue, but it will also change shape as society’s priorities evolve.
Sustainability, inclusivity, and mental health awareness will influence how anti-design is applied. For example, a playful, exploratory experience can support a lighter emotional tone, while overly aggressive chaos can feel stressful. Anti-design will not automatically be “authentic” simply because it is messy; the emotional impact still needs to match the context and the audience.
Brands that understand this dynamic can use anti-design as a cultural signal rather than a surface trend. The practical outcome is stronger alignment between design choices and the message a business wants to communicate about its values, its community, and the kind of experience it aims to create.
AI will expand experimentation responsibly.
The integration of artificial intelligence into design workflows will accelerate experimentation, including within anti-design. AI-assisted tools can help generate layout variations, explore unexpected pairings, and test multiple directions quickly. This does not remove the need for human judgement, but it changes the economics of creative exploration by making iteration faster and cheaper.
AI will also increase the ability to personalise experiences by using behaviour analysis to infer what users respond to. That personalisation can make anti-design feel less risky because the site can adapt. For example, a system could reduce intensity for users who bounce quickly or prefer more linear navigation patterns, while maintaining boldness for users who explore deeper.
Dynamic interfaces, with guardrails.
Adaptation should not break trust.
Real-time adjustments can support engagement, but they must be controlled. If a site changes too aggressively, users lose orientation. The safer future pattern is subtle adaptation: adjusting emphasis, simplifying layouts on smaller screens, or changing the density of information, while keeping the core structure stable.
AI-driven experimentation should also remain accountable. A site should not become unpredictable simply because it can. Anti-design works when disruption feels intentional, and that same principle applies to AI-driven changes. The best systems will keep a consistent baseline and use AI to refine presentation and relevance rather than constantly reinventing the interface.
Automate generation of design variations to speed up exploration and reduce manual effort.
Personalise experiences based on behaviour patterns, while keeping navigation consistent.
Use real-time adjustments carefully to enhance clarity rather than create instability.
The future of anti-design is not a rejection of craft. It is a refinement of what craft means online: designing experiences that are memorable, emotionally resonant, and recognisably human, while still being usable, inclusive, and technically sound. As experimentation expands through better tooling, community feedback, cultural influence, and AI-assisted workflows, anti-design will mature into a practical option for brands that want differentiation without sacrificing clarity. The next stage is an invitation to explore, test, and iterate, while keeping the user journey stable enough to earn trust and deliver outcomes.
Frequently Asked Questions.
What is anti-design?
Anti-design is a movement that challenges traditional web aesthetics by embracing chaos and imperfection, prioritizing emotional engagement over conventional design norms.
How can breaking conventions enhance user engagement?
By breaking conventions, designers invite users to engage with content in unexpected ways, fostering curiosity and deeper interactions.
What are some key principles of anti-design?
Key principles include controlled disruption, maintaining usability, clear navigation, and accessibility, while incorporating unexpected design elements.
How do brands like Oatly and Ben & Jerry's use anti-design?
These brands leverage anti-design to create authentic connections with their audiences through unconventional aesthetics that reflect their core values.
What role does accessibility play in anti-design?
Accessibility is crucial in anti-design to ensure that all users, including those with disabilities, can navigate and engage with the content effectively.
How can typography be used in anti-design?
Typography can signal rebellion or irony, and maintaining a clear hierarchy is essential even when using unconventional fonts or scales.
What is the importance of user testing in anti-design?
User testing helps designers gauge how users respond to anti-design elements, ensuring that creative risks do not alienate or confuse users.
How can designers balance creativity and usability?
Designers can balance creativity and usability by maintaining clear navigation paths and visual hierarchies, even within unconventional layouts.
What are some future trends in anti-design?
Future trends may include increased use of asymmetrical layouts, hand-drawn elements, and intentional colour clashes to evoke emotion.
How can community feedback shape anti-design trends?
Community feedback allows designers to gain insights into user preferences and reactions, fostering a collaborative approach to design.
References
Thank you for taking the time to read this lecture. Hopefully, this has provided you with insight to assist your career or business.
Ginger IT Solutions. (2025, May 8). Anti-Design in Graphic Design | Ginger IT Solutions. Ginger IT Solutions. https://www.gingeritsolutions.com/blog/anti-design-in-graphic-design-breaking-the-rules-to-make-a-statement/
Wix. (2024, December 5). Anti-design for designers fed up with perfection. Wix Studio. https://www.wix.com/studio/blog/anti-design
EBWeb. (2024, December 3). Embracing anti-design, imperfection and human touch in web design trends for 2025. EBWeb. https://www.ebweb.ca/news/web-design-tips/embracing-anti-design-imperfection-and-human-touch-in-web-design-trends-for-2025
BRandology. (2024, October 24). The rise of anti-design. Medium. https://medium.com/@bhaktirathod90/the-rise-of-anti-design-c960d511409a
Teknoppy. (2025, September 19). Anti-design web design: Authentic user experiences guide. Teknoppy. https://teknoppy.com/anti-design-web-design-human-centered-authentic-experiences/
AbcdMedia Ltd. (2025, November 17). Ugly by Design: The User Experience of ‘Anti-Design’. Medium. https://medium.com/@abcdmedia_ltd/ugly-by-design-the-user-experience-of-anti-design-f563156fc4f3
99designs. (2022, April 1). Anti-design: the anti-rule book redefining digital design. 99designs. https://99designs.com/blog/design-history-movements/anti-design/
Nielsen Norman Group. (2017, November 5). Brutalism and antidesign. Nielsen Norman Group. https://www.nngroup.com/articles/brutalism-antidesign/
Graticle. (2025, January 13). Web design embraces the anti-design trend. Graticle. https://graticle.com/blog/web-design-embraces-the-anti-design-trend/
Outcrowd. (2023, August 13). 10 principles of good web design. Muz.li. https://medium.muz.li/10-principles-of-good-web-design-1b837743ffa8
Key components mentioned
This lecture referenced a range of named technologies, systems, standards bodies, and platforms that collectively map how modern web experiences are built, delivered, measured, and governed. The list below is included as a transparency index of the specific items mentioned.
ProjektID solutions and learning:
CORE [Content Optimised Results Engine] - https://www.projektid.co/core
Cx+ [Customer Experience Plus] - https://www.projektid.co/cxplus
DAVE [Dynamic Assisting Virtual Entity] - https://www.projektid.co/dave
Extensions - https://www.projektid.co/extensions
Intel +1 [Intelligence +1] - https://www.projektid.co/intel-plus1
Pro Subs [Professional Subscriptions] - https://www.projektid.co/professional-subscriptions
Web standards, languages, and experience considerations:
ARIA
Core Web Vitals
Web Content Accessibility Guidelines (WCAG)
Platforms and implementation tooling:
Ben & Jerry’s - https://www.benjerry.com/
Google Analytics - https://marketingplatform.google.com/about/analytics/
Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/
Knack - https://www.knack.com/
Make.com - https://www.make.com/
Oatly - https://www.oatly.com/
Off-White - https://www.off---white.com/
Replit - https://replit.com/
Slack - https://slack.com/
Spotify - https://www.spotify.com/
Spotify Wrapped - https://www.spotify.com/wrapped/
Squarespace - https://www.squarespace.com/
TikTok - https://www.tiktok.com/
