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The Best Creative Leaders Are Experienced

The best creative leaders are not just charismatic, visionary, or full of bold ideas. They are not great simply because they can sell a concept, win a room, or energise a team. What sets them apart is something quieter and more difficult to define. It is the depth that comes from lived experience. The kind that builds resilience, sharpens judgment, and shapes taste over time.

When skill isn’t enough

Becoming a Creative Director at 30 came with confidence and capability. There was strong expertise in digital, and creative direction came naturally. Projects were delivered. Clients were impressed. Teams moved fast. But beneath the surface, something was missing.

That gap only became clear when working alongside more seasoned creative leaders. They moved differently. Their feedback landed with clarity. Their presence created calm in moments of chaos. There was no need to posture or push. They had earned their authority through repetition, reflection, and results.

In contrast, early leadership was still tied to control. There was ego in the room. Pressure to prove value. A desire to push work through rather than pull the best out of people. The title had arrived before the maturity to carry it well.

Taste is not a trend

One of the clearest markers of experience is taste. Not style. Not trend-awareness. Taste.

It does not come from scrolling through curated portfolios or collecting references. It is shaped slowly over time through exposure, curiosity, and failure. Travel, music, writing, architecture, silence. The best creative leaders absorb the world. That depth filters into how they see, what they question, and how they guide others toward quality.

The most seasoned creatives can spot what others miss. They are not distracted by noise. They focus on what matters. Their instincts have been tested enough times that they can lead without overexplaining. This kind of taste cannot be taught in a workshop. It is cultivated through attention and intent.

What experience really gives us

Time in the product world made this even clearer. In fast-moving teams and high-growth environments, it is often execution that gets rewarded. But in the long run, the creatives who consistently raise the bar are not just fast or clever. They have depth.

Experienced leaders carry perspective. They have lived through changing technologies, shifts in team dynamics, and cycles of burnout and renewal. They know when to push and when to protect. They understand how to create space for others to grow, not just deliver. And they bring calm. Not because things are easy, but because they have faced harder before.

This is not about age. It is about exposure, repetition, and reflection. It is about the ability to hold both the work and the people with equal care.

Creative leadership is legacy work

A creative leader is not measured only by the work that gets produced under their watch. They are measured by the people they develop. The teams they shape. The future leaders they inspire and send forward.

The best creative leaders do more than oversee projects. They mentor, coach, and protect. They raise standards without crushing spirit. They teach others how to see more clearly, make better decisions, and build their own confidence.

Leadership is not what you do in the moment. It is what you leave behind. The impact of a strong creative leader is often only fully understood years later, when the people they supported go on to lead others with the same principles. That is the true legacy.

For those stepping into leadership

Ambition is a powerful driver, but titles arrive faster than depth. New leaders benefit most from being close to those who have done it well for a long time. Not just for inspiration, but for calibration.

It is not just about learning how to give feedback or present ideas. It is about learning when to hold back. When to pause. When to invest in someone quietly, with no immediate return. These lessons are rarely written down. They are observed, absorbed, and eventually practised.

For those hiring creative leaders

Experience should not be a risk factor. It should be a requirement.

The tendency to chase novelty over wisdom is short-sighted. The most experienced leaders bring more than just ability. They bring consistency, clarity, and confidence. They know how to balance quality and pace, ambition and sustainability. They know how to scale teams without losing the integrity of the work.

Most importantly, they build people. That is what keeps standards high long after the leader has left the room.

For those with experience

There is increasing pressure to reinvent or reposition. To prove relevance. But what seasoned creatives carry is more valuable than ever.

The ability to remain calm under pressure. To make decisions rooted in principle, not panic. To spot the crack before it becomes a fault line. To listen deeply. To mentor generously. These are the traits that hold teams together.

There is no need to shrink. There is no need to apologise for the depth that has been earned. The industry needs it.

This is what moves the work forward

Creative leadership is not a performance. It is a practice.

It is built over time, through mistakes, reflection, and a commitment to growth. The best creative leaders are not defined by their output alone. They are remembered for the standards they set, the people they empowered, and the culture they helped build.

Experience is not the past. It is the foundation. And the best leaders carry it forward not for themselves, but for everyone around them.

Why I Wear Black T-Shirts

And Probably Always Will

For as long as I can remember, I’ve gravitated toward black t-shirts. What started as a simple preference evolved into a habit. Over time, it became a kind of personal uniform. Today, black t-shirts aren’t just part of my wardrobe. They’re a reflection of how I live, think, and move through the world.

A Personal Story
I started wearing darker t-shirts over two decades ago. I run hot. With a fast metabolism and an active lifestyle, sweating was inevitable. White t-shirts quickly betrayed every mark.

What began as a straightforward fix became something more. I remember finding a particular Polo branded black v-neck that fit perfectly. I bought several of the same one. Not out of obsession, but because it worked. Over time, I grew self-conscious about appearing repetitive. So I started mixing brands and subtle logo variations to keep things interesting without losing the formula.

Eventually, even that felt unnecessary. Prints faded from fashion. Clean, unbranded staples took their place. That’s when I found my ideal t-shirt. A $9 crew neck from Uniqlo. Minimal. Durable. Cut just right. I could buy it anywhere in the world. I phased out the branded versions and bulk-bought the one that simply did the job.

Now, getting dressed requires no second thought. I throw one on and look, and feel, sharp. Without the noise.

Covered in tattoos, I already stand out without trying. The black t-shirt acts as a counterbalance. I’m not a goth. I’m not trying to be mysterious. I’m just comfortable being myself.

I’ve worn these t-shirts on stage, in my videos, at the gym, and in boardrooms packed with executives. Always the same. Plain black. Flawless fit. No logos. Easily replaced. Consistently sharp.

The Industry’s ‘Uniform’
It turns out, I’m not alone. Black t-shirts have quietly become the unofficial uniform across creative industries. Design, tech, media, advertising. In places where expression matters but decision fatigue is real, black becomes a kind of silent badge of belonging.

In the film industry, it’s almost a joke. You can always spot production crew by the sea of black. It is tactical. Black doesn’t catch stage lights. It hides stains. It lets the work, not the wardrobe, take centre stage.

Across creative and production circles, the black t-shirt is more than a trend. It is a tool. Whether you are a designer, a director, a developer, or a producer, a black tee says: I’m here to build, not perform. It is neutral. It is functional. It is part of the unspoken language of people who solve problems behind the scenes.

Steve Jobs and Mark Zuckerberg understood this intuitively. Jobs’ black turtleneck. Zuckerberg’s grey t-shirt. It wasn’t about fashion. It was about protecting focus. Minimising the trivial. Maximising the important.

Others have embraced the same idea. André 3000, once known for bold style, now lives in uniformed dungarees. A reflection of his evolution. Matt D’Avella, the filmmaker behind Minimalism, adopted a personal uniform and even extends it to his newborn. Same outfits. Fewer decisions. More focus on what matters.

Interestingly, while Zuckerberg once championed simplicity, he has lately pivoted toward a more colourful wardrobe. Some see reinvention. To me, it reads closer to midlife restlessness than useful evolution.

Even in science fiction, uniform dressing isn’t accidental. Think of Star Trek’s iconic uniforms. Clarity. Identity. Order. In real life and fiction alike, uniformity reduces distraction and sharpens collective focus.

Why It Works For Me
I know myself. I’m a creature of habit by design, not by default. I value efficiency. I believe that starting the day without wasting energy on trivial choices is a quiet form of discipline.

It is a tactic against decision fatigue. The mental drain that comes from making endless small decisions. James Clear, in Atomic Habits, talks about reducing friction to improve incrementally every day. Wearing black is my personal version of that. One less decision. One more edge.

Minimal. Clean. Casual. Functional. Sharp. That’s my style. I don’t need loud brands or showy logos to feel confident. Being in shape, I don’t crave extra attention through clothing. I often see loud fashion as less about personal taste and more about flexing supposed wealth.

True wealth, the kind that doesn’t shout, has always done it differently. Those with old money don’t plaster themselves in other people’s brands. They wear well-constructed, beautifully tailored, quietly confident pieces that speak for themselves.

That’s the ethos I believe in. Confidence should radiate naturally, not through stitched-on labels.

I blend in when I want to. I stand out, paradoxically, by not trying to. A black t-shirt lets me move through different worlds. Boardrooms. Studios. Gyms. Without losing myself.

Reining It In (Or Not)
The rest of my wardrobe evolved the same way. Traveling through Southeast Asia sharpened my eye. Clothes needed to be versatile, lightweight, and enduring. Black became the natural answer.

I also realised how much clothing we accumulate and barely use. It is wasteful, financially and environmentally. That insight changed how I buy.

Today, I invest only in pieces that are built like tools. Engineered. Technical. Purposeful. Outdoor gear like Terrex by Adidas. Durable, functional warmth like The North Face. Pieces where every stitch has a reason and earns its keep.

My wardrobe today is deliberate, not accidental. Everything works together. Everything is used. Everything has a reason to be there.

That said, I do feel the occasional pull toward more colour. I used to mix it into sneakers, trousers (never denim), and hoodies. There is still room for evolution.

But when the dust settles, simplicity always calls me back.

The Bigger Picture
This was never really about clothes. It has always been about making life simpler, removing unnecessary choices, and focusing on the things that actually matter.

Wearing black makes my days easier. It saves energy for the work I care about. It keeps me consistent without feeling restricted.

It fits who I am, how I live, and how I work. And after all this time, I still wouldn’t change it.

CEO’s Your Design Team is Broken

What CEOs need to know about the state of their design function
If your design team isn’t delivering what you expect, the issue may not lie with them. It may be everything around them.

Most CEOs do not have direct visibility into the design function. It often sits under digital, technology, or marketing, far removed from the boardroom. The information reaching you is filtered through layers of leadership, metrics, and assumptions. What looks like slow progress or underwhelming output is usually the result of poor structure, misplaced priorities, and a culture that makes great design difficult to deliver.

You might be feeling the pressure to modernise, especially with the rise of AI promising faster results and leaner teams. But in the rush to stay competitive, there is a growing risk of sidelining your design team just when you should be investing in them most.

This is not about blame. It is about awareness.

Here is what you need to understand in order to unlock the real value of the team you have already invested in.

Broken Hiring and Team Structure
Most design teams report into departments that are not design-led. They sit under technology, digital, or marketing functions, none of which are structured to prioritise or nurture design thinking. This removes design from the strategic level and positions it as a service or support layer. As a result, critical product and experience decisions are often made without meaningful design involvement.

In some cases, the person leading design has no background in the discipline. They may have transitioned from project management or operations, completed a short course at a fancy university that gave them superficial credibility, and stepped into a leadership role because they aligned with the right internal stakeholder. They may be great at reporting upwards, but they often lack the experience to guide design teams through complex, ambiguous challenges.

The consequences of this are long-term. You end up with bloated teams made up of junior staff with no mentorship, senior staff with no authority, and design leaders who cannot lead. This is not a problem of resourcing. It is a problem of structure and responsibility.

Toxic Work Culture
Design thrives in environments that support focus, autonomy, and exploration. But most corporate workspaces are designed for consistency, control, and operational efficiency. Designers are often asked to operate under the same norms as legal, finance, or HR, even though their work requires entirely different conditions.

Telling people to return to the office without addressing what they are returning to does not rebuild culture. What is the point of going into the office to have a Zoom call?

Open-plan floorplans, generic spaces, and restricted software access do not support deep, creative work. Designers find themselves stuck in back-to-back Microsoft Teams meetings, working in environments that are not designed for thinking or problem-solving.

In many organisations, designers are not even allowed to use modern tools that would enable their work. AI tools, cloud platforms, and open-source systems are often blocked by IT, which operates from outdated security models. The result is frustration, inefficiency, and disengagement.

If the team has no space to call their own, they spend half the day trying to find a seat in the new office that has consolidated the entire company into a single space. You no longer needed those extra offices, but now you’ve decided you want everyone back.

Even small blockers, like software restrictions or micromanagement of process, can significantly reduce creative output. Trust your team more than your blanket policies.

Contractor Culture
Contractors are often brought in to boost delivery speed or fill short-term gaps. On paper, it looks like efficiency. In reality, it often leads to inconsistency and friction. These roles are usually filled through expensive consultancies that supply mid-level talent at high rates. While the external staff do their hours and move on, the internal team is left to integrate, fix, and maintain the work.

This creates a two-tier system. Contractors are protected by their agency structure, often better paid, and excluded from internal pressures. The full-time team carries the long-term responsibility, often working overtime out of fear that underperformance will lead to cuts.

Using external contractors is not the issue. The issue is how they are used. If your internal team is constantly cleaning up or onboarding new faces, you are not building capability. You are burning out the very people who are committed to your organisation.

Consultancy Dependency and Outsourcing
External agencies are often given the most exciting work. The rebrands. The campaigns. The vision decks. Internal teams are left with execution and support. This imbalance signals that the in-house team cannot be trusted with strategic work, even if they have the skills and context to do it better.

Worse still, many consultancies do not deeply understand your product, users, or constraints. They hand over incomplete strategies, over-designed concepts, or pitch-driven deliverables that cannot be executed in the real world. The internal team then spends weeks trying to make sense of it all, often with less time, less clarity, and fewer resources.

I once worked with a company that launched a major initiative built by an external agency. The work looked stunning, but when it hit the internal team, nothing fit. It did not align with the tech stack. It ignored user constraints. And it lacked any roadmap for support. Within weeks, it was stripped down and patched just to function. Six months later, the initiative was shut down quietly. The executive who championed it had already moved on. The cost was hundreds of thousands in sunk time, vendor fees, and brand credibility. All of it could have been avoided if the internal team had been trusted from the start.

This cycle creates waste. It damages morale. And it keeps design in a reactive posture.

Shiny Object Syndrome
Many businesses fall into a pattern of investing in new tools, platforms, or features without clear evidence of user need. These initiatives are often driven by senior stakeholders, rushed through third parties, and launched without integration into the broader product strategy.

At its most basic, your product needs to work. That means refining the core flows, fixing small frustrations, and continuing to iterate on what matters most to users. But these basics are often neglected in favour of the new and exciting. You end up chasing parity with competitors, rushing out features to impress the board, or building tools that go unused, all while fundamental user journeys remain broken.

One of the most common mistakes is building features just because a department with the biggest budget asked for them. If you are not using data to trim the fat, identifying what is actually being used and what is just noise, then you are not managing a product. You are feeding a backlog of politics.

Most features are underused. The cost of not focusing is hidden, until the user leaves, the team burns out, or the system starts to collapse under its own weight.

Undervaluing Design
Design is often expected to drive business impact but treated as a cost centre. Salaries are uncompetitive. Career paths are unclear. Titles are capped below what the market recognises. At the same time, consultants and contractors are brought in at higher rates, given more strategic work, and publicly recognised for their contributions.

Worse still, designers are placed on internal career paths that are disconnected from how the design industry actually works. HR frameworks are often modelled after marketing, project management, or IT roles, which makes progress feel performative, not meaningful. Designers are told they cannot have the title that reflects their level because it does not exist in the internal structure. That forces them to leave to grow.

HR teams must stop treating design like an edge case and start collaborating with design leadership to define what growth looks like in this function. That means aligning your job levels, salary bands, and promotion criteria with how the industry operates.

The result is stronger retention, clearer role definition, and a team that can grow with your business instead of out of it.

AI Hype and Creative Fear

AI is changing what’s possible. With a few prompts, you can now create visuals, motion, and layouts that once required the most experienced specialists in the industry. That’s real. But design is not just execution. It’s not something you automate because a dashboard looks good or a pitch deck said so.

When leadership buys into the hype that AI will replace creatives, your team hears it loud and clear. Not as a challenge. As a threat. Instead of being empowered to explore what these tools could unlock, they brace for impact while consultants fly in to present generic strategies designed to sell more software, not solve your specific problems.

AI will not design for you. It will not understand your business. It will not ask the right questions, navigate trade-offs, or tailor solutions to your users. The companies that win are the ones that give their team time to think, space to test, and permission to build better. The ones that lose will chase the trend, generate faster versions of the same broken experiences, and call it innovation.

Disconnected Teams and No Source of Truth
You already have a design system. If you have a product in market, you are relying on shared patterns, components, and conventions. But what was once a tool for clarity and alignment becomes useless when it’s handed off to people who don’t understand its purpose, treat it as a side project, or let it grow without guidance.

Eventually, no one trusts it. Design teams create their own versions. Engineers build around it. Contractors ignore it entirely. Visual inconsistencies creep in, decisions aren’t recorded, documentation is outdated, and every new project starts with a mess someone else created.

This isn’t just inefficient. It erodes brand trust, slows teams down, and disconnects your product from the people building it. You can’t keep scaling teams without a shared foundation. You can’t deliver quality when no one knows what good looks like. And you can’t claim to be design-led if your design system is an abandoned folder full of guesswork.

So How Do You Fix It?
If your design team is underperforming, it is not about adding more people. It is about improving the conditions they work in. Here are eight actions you can take to shift from underperformance to long-term value.

  1. Fix the org chart
    Design should not report into functions that see it as decoration or support. It should be led by an executive who has actually built design teams and products. This gives design a voice in key decisions and ensures that user experience is considered early, not retrofitted later.

You need to hire a design leader who does more than play politics well. Hire someone who is actually a designer. Someone who came up through the design industry. Someone the team will respect because they are one of them. Someone who has been on the tools, shipped real work, and knows the pressure of delivery. They will not be doing the hands-on work anymore, but the experience they bring becomes something the team can aspire to, be motivated by, and learn from. Real credibility, not just corporate credentials.

In fact, some functions could benefit from reporting into design. Marketing’s primary job is to market the product. If they are communicating a brand message that the product cannot deliver on, that is not just a problem for design. That is a trust problem for your business. Marketing output should align with the experience, and design should have sign-off to ensure that happens.

The impact is a more cohesive experience, fewer internal clashes, and stronger alignment between what the business promises and what the user actually gets.

  1. Build a real team
    Contractors are not your core team. They are there to roll out delivery work so your main players can move to the next challenge to solve, like a Seal Team 6. Your best designers should be free to tackle the high-value problems, not trapped in day-to-day production cycles.

While it makes sense to structure around squads, you also need specialists who can move quickly, snipe the biggest problems, and keep momentum alive. Back this up with a strong design ops function whose job is to onboard contractors quickly, plug them into the toolchain, and keep the internal team focused on what matters most.

This leads to lower attrition, reduced dependency on external support, and a team that is solving real problems, not just getting work done.

  1. Respect the environment design needs to thrive in
    Designers need desks. They need walls. They need messy spaces covered in inspiration and personal touches that feel like their own. Give them a place to belong, not a hot desk next to someone measuring quarterly compliance reports.

Let them shoot the shit, sketch ideas on the furniture, be noisy when they need to, and express themselves freely away from the school hall monitors who kill creative flow. And do not let the corporate machine fill another room with the same grey furniture bought in bulk. Invest in their space the same way you invest in your brokers’ bullpens and their sixteen-monitor setups.

You will see higher-quality thinking, stronger team cohesion, and an environment where creativity is not squeezed out of existence.

  1. Stop outsourcing the fun stuff
    Bring in consultancies when your team asks for them, not when leadership feels insecure. Use them to support your team, not to undermine them. Hire specialists who add new thinking or depth, not another rinse-and-repeat pitch deck written by people who will never stay to build anything.

Your in-house team knows your systems, your constraints, and your users. Trust them to lead, and when they call for backup, back them up. Do not replace them.

This produces more consistent design, lower costs over time, and a team that is invested in the outcome, not just the process.

  1. Kill the shiny-thing pipeline
    Use your own people to tell you where to focus. Ask your design team to show you what is happening in market, what they are seeing, what users are gravitating towards. Let them bring ideas to the table before you hire a research company or listen to a suit pitching the next shiny thing.

Refocus on data, craft, quality, and focus. Build what aligns to your product and your brand, not what looks good on a roadmap presentation. Be true to what you are. Stop trying to be everything to everyone and producing watered-down experiences that offer no real value and even less return.

Done well, this leads to better adoption, reduced delivery waste, and stronger, more differentiated products.

  1. Pay them like they matter
    Design is not an optional extra. It is how customers experience everything you offer. You cannot say design matters while locking designers into capped salaries, internal-only career frameworks, and fake progression paths designed to tick HR boxes.

Pay competitively. Recognise design-specific seniority. Let your best people grow inside the business instead of forcing them to leave to earn what they are worth. If they have to choose between loyalty and survival, survival wins.

That is how you build loyalty, retain institutional knowledge, and compete for top-tier talent that powers real growth.

  1. Empower your team to lead your AI adoption
    Form a dedicated research and development squad inside your design team whose sole focus is testing, validating, and integrating AI tools that actually fit your work. Let them experiment, run pilots, and work directly with other designers to stress test what fits the toolchain and adds real value.

Educate the entire design function on how to effectively use these tools. Make AI a lever that enhances creativity, reduces grunt work, and unlocks new thinking. Not something imposed from the outside by vendors with a quarterly target to hit.

You will gain faster workflows, smarter solutions, and a team that becomes stronger and sharper, not weaker and cheaper.

  1. Invest in your design system and treat it like infrastructure
    Make using the design system mandatory. Not to limit creativity, but to give it a strong foundation to build on. Your system is not a set of rules. It is a platform for faster delivery, better consistency, and higher quality without reinventing the wheel every time.

Empower teams to innovate inside the system. Free them to spend more time solving real problems instead of cleaning up inconsistency. Constantly educate, communicate, and demonstrate the value it brings. Build unity, not division.

Staff the system with your best designers, the ones who obsess over every pixel, token, and principle. When you build a system that others want to contribute to, you create a centre of gravity for everything your design team builds.

When treated seriously, it becomes the single most efficient way to scale quality across your entire business.

Final word
If you’re serious about building better products, delivering better experiences, and creating long-term value, then your design team needs more than praise. They need power. They need space. They need leadership that understands their value and an organisation structured to support it.

And no, letting them wear black t-shirts and trendy sneakers while you throw around buzzwords like “customer experience” does not count. That is not investment. That is theatre.

You cannot keep treating design like a downstream service and expecting upstream impact. You cannot outsource vision, underpay talent, overrule process, and then wonder why things do not work. And you definitely cannot keep waiting for someone else in the business to fix it, because no one else will.

If you have built an in-house design team, you already have what you need.

But until you create the conditions for them to thrive, you will never get the return you are hoping for.

This is not about giving design more. It is about expecting more, by making the right investments, setting the right structure, and finally giving it the seat at the table it deserves.

The companies getting design right are already outpacing you. It is not too late to catch up. But it is on you to lead the change.

What Do I Call Myself Now?

I didn’t start out chasing a title. I just wanted to be a designer.

That was enough. That word meant something. That was all I wanted to do.

But as my experience grew the titles started creeping in. First, it was graphic designer. Then multimedia designer. Web designer. Interactive designer. Eventually, I started calling myself a creative thinker because I was working across disciplines. At some point, I got really attached to “design professional.” It felt grown-up and flexible, but still didn’t capture everything I was doing.

As I began working on award show websites for the Art Directors Club and The One Club, I found myself aspiring to the big title: Creative Director. That felt like the pinnacle. The one that meant you’d made it. And eventually, I got there. Hired as a Creative Director, and the title stuck.

But here’s where it gets complicated.

At my first proper ad agency gig, Ogilvy, I was technically operating at an Executive Creative Director level. But I wasn’t allowed to use that title because I didn’t have Creative Directors reporting into me. Not for lack of trying. I’d have promoted my most senior Art Director if I could. Then came National Creative Director at another agency. Still just Creative Director on paper.

During this came self-employment. A studio. A startup. I wore whatever title made sense that week, usually back to Creative Director. Eventually, I landed an in-house executive role at a bank. I led the design function, and with my black t-shirts and sneakers in the bank, I was certainly the creative in the boardroom. But I wasn’t allowed to be Chief Creative Officer because there’s only one chief. So I settled for Executive Creative Director. At my next full-time job, I didn’t settle. I became Chief Design Officer. And finally, a title that felt almost right.

But even that doesn’t quite fit. I’m more than just a designer. I think across channels, across teams, across systems. I integrate with brand, content, product, and service. I shape experiences end to end. So what do I call myself now? Not just in job applications, but in conversations, pitches, bios, intros, and that inevitable “what do you do?” moment. Maybe I should just embrace the times. There is AI in my name, after all. Feels like the universe nudging me toward my next evolution.

Here’s the thing. Titles are broken. And we’re in the middle of a full-blown identity crisis at the leadership level.

I’ve read the think pieces. I’ve seen the bios. The confusion is everywhere. People doing the same jobs are called Heads, Leads, VPs, Chiefs, Principals, or sometimes just Designers, with a suspiciously large scope. And it’s not just semantics. Titles have real-world consequences. Companies don’t want to hand out the Chief label because it implies compensation and authority. So they give you just enough to make the role sound senior, but not enough to pay you what you’re worth.

I’ve seen VPs of Design running global design orgs. I’ve seen Creative Directors acting as product owners, strategy leads, and team managers. I’ve seen brilliant Design Directors passed over because the brief said “Creative Director.” Especially in the UK, where I’m currently job hunting, I’ve noticed Creative Directors often get more respect and higher salaries than Design Directors. That stings, especially when the creative in question is mostly analogue, 30-second TV ads and campaign-based, and the design in question is building banking platforms, solving business problems, and future-forward digital ecosystems.

It’s like comparing a handcrafted wooden sailboat to a carbon fibre racing yacht. Both are beautiful. But only one is built for speed, scale, and the world we live in now.

And if titles weren’t confusing enough within companies, try jumping between industries. Say you’re a Creative Director. Do people assume you work in advertising? If you’re a Product Designer, do they picture digital apps or physical goods? Are you less creative because you’re in-house? Less strategic because you’re not in consulting?

I never studied industrial design, but I’m pretty sure I could give solid direction on a tin opener. Just like I’m confident I could direct a short film, lead a content strategy, or reinvent a product-service ecosystem. Not to come across as arrogant, but I just don’t see any limit to my ability to create. Yet at the same time, I’m watching self-employed social media managers call themselves Creative Directors and Chief Creative Officers. Not to knock their work, it’s a valuable craft, but when exactly did they work their way into those leadership titles? Where’s the experience in brand stewardship, cross-functional management, systems thinking, or executive decision-making?

This isn’t just about gatekeeping titles. It’s about clarity, progression, and respect for the journey. If everyone is a chief, then what does leadership even mean?

And let’s talk about the table. The one we’re all supposed to have a seat at. Too often, the Head of Design is hired by the CTO, not as an equal, but as an add-on. A support act. Design is supposed to be one third of the triad that builds great product: business, tech, and design. Yet in too many companies, it’s still treated as the pixel pushers. Not a strategic partner. Not a co-architect. Just the people who make things pretty.

It’s no wonder our titles are all over the place. The role itself is misunderstood.

And titles do carry weight, whether we like to admit it or not. Show me a CEO who gives up their title just to fit into the flat structure they sell to the rest of the team.

In more formal professions like law, medicine, or finance, titles are earned through years of structured progression, underpinned by formal education and recognised qualifications. You don’t become a partner, consultant, or CFO without years of study and accreditation. But in design and creativity, most of the skills required to lead at the highest level aren’t formally taught. They’re developed on the job, in the trenches, over time. Through experience, intuition, taste, leadership, and hard-won lessons. That makes it harder to define our roles and even harder to validate them through existing frameworks.

So where do we go from here? I could give myself a title. I could fight for one in interviews, push for it once I’m in, or just accept the compromise and get on with the work.

Titles aren’t everything. But they’re not nothing either. They shape how people perceive you. They affect your salary band. They determine whether you’re seen as a leader, a peer, or a service provider.

And the truth is, many of us are working across brand, content, product, service, and experience, often at an executive level, but with a title that doesn’t reflect any of that.

So here’s my question to the industry: what do we call people like us?

People who lead multi-disciplinary teams. People who shape experiences across every customer touchpoint. People who operate at board level but still deeply understand the craft.

Maybe the real answer isn’t one perfect title. Maybe it’s creating space for more fluid, honest language around the roles we play and the value we bring.

Until then, I’ll keep working. Keep leading. Keep creating. Call me whatever you want, just don’t undervalue what I bring.

Are you having a title crisis too? Let me know in the comments what you call yourself and whether it fits.

Be a Good Design Leader

Being a design leader isn’t about being the loudest voice in the room. It’s not about titles or hierarchy. It’s about responsibility—first and foremost, to the people you lead.

You’re not the boss. You’re the person who makes things better for the team. You lead by example, not by shouting or micromanaging. You show what good looks like through your actions—your clarity, your calm under pressure, your ability to listen, and your willingness to roll up your sleeves when needed.

Your job is to create the conditions for great work to happen. That means making sure your team has the right tools, the right support, the right budget—and the right encouragement. When things go well, you give them the praise. When things go wrong, you take the responsibility. That’s the deal.

You remove blockers. You use your position to open doors that might otherwise stay shut. You don’t hide behind process or tradition. You stay curious. You stay current. And you make sure your team has the space to experiment, learn, and push boundaries. If you’re holding them back with outdated systems or unnecessary red tape, you’re not doing your job.

Being a good design leader also means being accessible. You create an environment where people feel included, seen, and safe to speak. You don’t become “too senior” to check in. You’re someone your team can confide in—because they know you care about them not just as employees, but as people.

And when the business says design isn’t delivering? That’s on you. You don’t scapegoat. You don’t default to outsourcing the fun work to agencies while your team gets stuck in the churn. If anything, that should be flipped. Your team deserves the exciting challenges. They should feel like they’re growing, not grinding.

You advocate for fair pay. You ensure people feel valued. You create a culture that’s inspiring, rewarding—and yes, fun. You invest in their education, their confidence, and their future.

And that future goes beyond your walls. A great design leader doesn’t just manage careers. They shape them. You want to be the person who saw their potential, backed them, helped them grow—and whose impact they carry into every role that comes next.

You represent the design function. So make your team proud. Lead with integrity. Be the kind of leader people choose to stand behind—not because they have to, but because they believe in you.

That’s what good design leadership looks like.

Why I Don’t Want to Start a Business Now

I’m often asked why I don’t run my own business. The quickest, easiest answer? I don’t want to.

The longer answer is that I’ve had my own businesses before, and that experience made one thing clear—I don’t want to build and run a business again. It’s not about fear or lack of ambition. It’s about knowing what I enjoy and where I create the most impact.

Some people assume that not running your own business means you’re not an entrepreneur. I disagree. I bring that same entrepreneurial mindset into leadership—driving innovation, solving complex problems, and building something bigger than myself. I just don’t want to be in the business of running a business.

If starting my own company meant I could focus purely on great work, be valued for it, and consistently earn what I want, I might think differently. But that’s rarely the case. Business ownership often means constantly selling your services, convincing people of your value, and managing client relationships where they hold the power. I don’t want my livelihood to depend on others’ willingness to see my worth.

That’s not to say traditional employment is perfect. But for me, there’s less risk in leading within an established brand than in investing in my own venture—especially in an industry where people often don’t fully understand, let alone value, what I do.

Entrepreneurship isn’t just about owning a business. It’s about thinking big, taking risks, and driving change. I do that as a leader. I just choose to do it within companies where I can focus on what I do best.

Design Leadership

What is Design Leadership?

6 things that are important qualities of a great design leader.

Be a kind Designer

How to be a kind designer, not just a good designer. Taking my cue from an inspirational conversation between Chris Do and Kathryn Dyer, I discuss being gentle and kind as a designer.

What is an ECD?

Have you ever wondered what it is that I do as an Executive Creative Director? I discuss my role and responsibilities. I also share the mystery around my black T-shirts.

Working Remotely

A lot is said lately of working remotely. 2020 is the year for remote work. Remote is the new black. Working remotely this and remote that.

It all sounds very exciting. Almost romantic. Sell up. Pack everything you own into 2 suitcases. Get a one-way ticket to Bali. Join the nomadic movement. Work when you want, from anywhere in the world.

As someone who has done this, I can tell you it’s pretty great. It’s how I supported myself early on in my career and how I got to work on international brands.

When I went on my own again towards the end of 2018, remote life seemed like my dream too. Especially after a short trip to Bali. Being on workation has been a dream of mine for the past 5 years.

I was super enthusiastic about working remotely, but I have been plagued with two consistent themes no matter who I approached.

Firstly, most remote opportunities still require you to be in the US (I have not found too many opportunities in other countries) as they don’t want to go through the payment and taxation issues with foreigners, despite cheaper rates, flexible work schedules, and an evident strong work ethic.

Secondly, how do you lead a team of designers remotely, when you’re not at the agency?

The first problem, is literally impossible to overcome, over a year later and no one has been willing to extend their remote work internationally, even after hundreds of applications.

The second problem, I am yet to figure out as there are so many complex layers leading from afar. Sure you could fly to meetings, I’d be up for that. But I’m not alone in my reservations. No one seems to even want to entertain it.

I have even been willing to work remotely as purely a designer. Taking a huge step back in my career, in favour of lifestyle. But no one has been willing to bite.

If you have success working remotely, as a designer or a leader, serving the American market, please do get in touch. But despite all the hype, so far I know of very few people who are surfing before heading to their local coffee shop on an island in Indonesia earning top dollar, benefiting from the rise of working remotely.