One of the most common mistakes I see in brand strategy is how we define consumers.

Open almost any founder deck and you'll find some version of the same audience description: urban women, 25–35, digitally savvy, health-conscious, interested in wellness, and willing to spend on themselves. On paper, it sounds logical. Investors like it because the market looks large. Founders like it because it feels inclusive. The broader the audience, the bigger the opportunity appears to be.

The problem is that consumers do not experience themselves through demographic labels.
A 28-year-old woman living in Mumbai isn't just a metric of her age, choice of workout, and disposable income. She's navigating her life, working on the habits she wishes she had, and building the version of herself she is trying to become.

The strongest brands understand this. They aren't built around demographics. They're built around aspirations.

Rhode didn't win because it made a better lip treatment. It won because owning a Rhode limited drop meant you were culturally relevant.
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Indē Wild didn't invent Ayurveda. It reframed it for a generation that wanted both tradition and modernity.
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Blissclub wasn't selling activewear. It was selling comfort and confidence to women who didn't see themselves reflected in performance-first fitness culture.

The Lululemon Trap

When Lululemon launched, it didn't set out to make a better legging than Nike. It built a world Nike had never bothered with: the boutique studio, the hot yoga class, the look-incredible-doing-it world. Every woman who wanted that life wanted the leggings that came with it.

Then Lululemon spent the next decade trying to become the brand for every woman who works out. Chasing growth, refusing to leave anyone out, and in the process, quietly opening the door for Alo and Vuori to walk straight through.

When you lose the moat and aspirational value that made your brand desirable in the first place, you slowly become relevant to no one. Consumers can no longer see their desired future self reflected in your brand.

The Coach Revival

One of the greatest revivals in modern fashion, Coach used the same playbook to reinvent its brand positioning.

Coach was once the entry point into luxury for many consumers. But with oversupply and an increasing focus on outlets, what was once its greatest strength became part of its downfall. The bags were everywhere. Access was easy. The brand became impossible to miss.

On paper, that should have been a success story. If a brand is everywhere, sales should grow and awareness should peak. But in fact, Coach lost relevance. The brand was bleeding.

Coach realised it could still be the entry point into luxury, but for a new generation. Not the 40-year-old consumer who had already moved on, but the Gen Z consumer who was shaping culture and influencing trends.

They revamped their product line to appeal to a younger audience, invested in the right partnerships, and showed up where their audience was already spending time.

Coach stopped treating visibility as the goal and started treating cultural relevance as the end point.

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