The Invisible Ones

I was reading in the WSJ some brand trend predictions for 2026 the other day, and one of them stopped me cold.

Rion Harmon, co-founder of the creative agency Day Job, described a growing market of consumers who "no longer go on the internet and can only be marketed to in real life." He was describing people in their early twenties.

"They don't know what the current viral skincare product is, whether ankle socks are in or out, or why everyone is obsessed with protein. To them, awareness of the microshifts in culture doesn't equate to being cool."

When I read that, I felt something I didn't expect: recognition.

The invisible ones

I keep thinking about Harmon's description. People who discover things organically. Who hear about a product from a friend, not an algorithm. Who find something because it was worth finding. Those are the people I want to reach. Maybe because they are the people who I aspire to be.

One of the decisions I'm wrestling with right now is how we show up. Whether Canard plays the social media game at all. I haven't decided yet. But reading this made the question feel more urgent.

The hierarchy of humanness

Another prediction from the same article: as AI flattens everything—makes everything feel the same—anything that proves a human was involved becomes more valuable. Brands will start showing "behind the scenes" content just to prove real people made their stuff. Anu Lingala called it the hierarchy of humanness. Love that term.

We've gotten to a point where proof of humanity is a luxury.

But I think there's something even more interesting underneath this. It's not just that human-made things are becoming rare. It's that human connection is becoming rare. The experiences we have in real life. The recommendations we get from people we actually know. The discovery that happens when you walk into a shop or stumble across something in a magazine.

Those moments used to be normal. Now they feel precious.

The question I keep asking

Most DTC brands spend 20-40% of revenue on customer acquisition. I call this social media tax "adflation" because it has contributed more to the cost of DTC goods than traditional inflation or tariffs, combined. It's the hidden costs going to Meta and TikTok. To the influencer deals and affiliate programs. And the sponsored posts touted as recommendations.

This isn't a marketing budget. It's a tax. And someone has to pay it. Usually the customer—through higher prices. Or brands cut corners and it's paid by the company—through cheaper materials. Or it's the margin—which eventually kills the company.

What would happen if Canard could avoid the social media adflation tax?

What if we took that 30% and put it into better designs, better builds, and ultimately better value? Or what if we just made the thing better and charged less, and trusted that people would find it?

I'm not sure yet. But that's what I'm trying to find out.

My bet

Here's what I know: real-world experiences and connections are becoming more rare, and therefore more valuable.

If someone tells you about a product they love—a friend, a colleague, a stranger at a coffee shop—that means something different than a sponsored post. It's slower. It's quieter. But it's real in a way that algorithmic discovery can never be.

The "invisible ones" aren't anti-technology. They're just immune to the noise. They've figured out that awareness of every microshift in culture doesn't make you interesting. It makes you exhausted. It's probably not a huge cohort of people. Yet. But I predict this is the new trend. It will happen, slowly, then all at once. So I want to be ready. And I want to build a brand for these people now, who will tell their friends, who will tell more friends.

The bottom line

I'm still figuring this out. I'll continue to write and share what I'm learning. The decisions I'm making. The things I'm getting wrong. The bets that pay off and the ones that don't.

See you next week.