Walking down the supermarket aisle last week, I picked up a box of Mother Earth Baked Oaty Slices and, a shelf or two away, Arnott’s Snack Right + Fibre Oaty Bites. Different companies. Different products. Yet on shelf they looked like twins: bright green packs, “oaty” language, similar chunky type, similar fibre claims, similar food photography. In the noise of a supermarket, they collapsed into one mental file: “green oaty fibre thing”.
That moment is a neat example of what happens when brand codes fail.
Brand codes – sometimes called distinctive brand assets – are the non-verbal and semi-verbal cues that allow us to recognise a brand quickly and reliably:
- Colours (Schweppes yellow, Cadbury purple)
- Shapes (Heinz keystone label, Coca-Cola contour bottle)
- Icons (Johnnie Walker’s striding man, the Qantas kangaroo)
- Typographic styles
- Taglines, pack architectures, even sonic signatures
They are the shortcuts that help a brand be noticed and recognised in fractions of a second. When they work, they increase mental availability (“I can think of you in buying situations”) and physical availability (“I can find you when I’m standing in front of the shelf”).
You immediately recognise the distinctive brand codes in this picture. Pringles. Lays. Rolos. Weet-Bix. Nutrific.
When they don’t, you get what I experienced: two different brands that might as well be one, competing not just against the category but against each other’s indistinguishable green boxes.
Brand codes versus category codes
To be fair to the designers of both products, they are operating in a tough, low-involvement category. Snack bars and biscuits are filled with fast, functional cues:
- Green = “healthy / fibre / natural”
- Oats imagery = “wholegrain”
- Choc chips = “indulgence but not too naughty”
- Bold “FIBRE” claims = “this is good for you”
These are category codes – visual and verbal conventions that help shoppers navigate categories quickly. Category codes are useful. They tell us what something is.
The problem arises when category codes swallow brand codes. If everyone uses the same green, the same oat cluster, the same “baked oaty slices” language, the pack may communicate the category, but it stops communicating the brand.
In the oaty snack example, both brands have leaned so heavily into the category template that the packs drift towards homogeneity:
- Large white rounded sans-serif typography
- Dominant green background
- Oats scattered diagonally with chocolate chunks
- “Source of fibre” phrasing
- Six-pack count in a circular badge
It feels less like two distinct brands and more like the same design brief executed twice.
Why distinctiveness matters more than “looking healthy”
Academic work from the Ehrenberg-Bass Institute and others has consistently shown that, for established brands, distinctiveness beats differentiation. Most consumers see brands in a category as broadly similar in function. What determines choice, especially in low-involvement contexts like supermarket snacks, is not a carefully reasoned preference but quick recognition and availability.
In this environment, the job of packaging is not to tell your whole brand story. Its primary function is to:
- Be noticed at a glance in a cluttered visual field.
- Be recognised as your brand, not “some green oaty bar”.
- Be correctly recalled later when the shopper thinks, “I liked those last time”.
Every time a brand adopts generic coding (the “healthy green, oats and fibre” template) it might win a little clarity on benefit, but it trades away recognition. Consumers will remember “those green oaty bars” – but not which ones.
By contrast, brands with strong, consistent codes achieve something different:
- Schweppes can sit in a fridge next to a dozen soft drinks and still be instantly noticed because of the specific yellow band and black typography.
- Heinz can change flavour variants endlessly, yet the keystone label shape and layout tell you “this is Heinz” in an instant.
- SPC has used its strong red and simple fruit photography for so long that the tins are recognisable even in peripheral vision.
- Johnnie Walker can be stripped of its logo and still be recognised through the bottle shape, colour palette and the striding man silhouette.
These brands have invested in ownable codes that no competitor can use without appearing derivative.
Cognitive shortcuts in the supermarket
From a cognitive psychology perspective, shoppers operate in System 1 mode most of the time: fast, automatic, and inattentive. The average shopper spends only a few seconds in front of a given bay. They are juggling a mental list, a budget, a child asking for snacks, and a phone buzzing in their pocket.
In this context:
- Shoppers do not read everything on pack.
- They do not consciously compare nuanced claims about fibre content or oat origin.
- They rely on pattern recognition: colours, shapes, logos and simple words.
If your pack looks similar to another, all that System 1 processing will happily blur them together. Recognition errors are common. Someone may intend to repurchase Brand A but reach for Brand B because the codes are interchangeable – especially if price or shelf placement differ.
From a brand equity perspective, that is alarming. You are effectively financing the trial of your competitors by training shoppers to recognise “generic green oaty bar” instead of your brand.
Why do marketers slide into sameness?
If marketers and designers know this, why do we still see look-alike packs?
There are several pressures:
- Retailer expectations and planograms
Retail buyers often ask for products that “fit the category” visually. Brand managers play safe to avoid being delisted or moved to obscure shelf positions. - Short-term performance metrics
Teams are judged quarter by quarter. A move towards clearer “health” cues or fibre claims can show a short-term sales bump, even if it erodes long-term distinctiveness. - Agency and internal risk aversion
Bold, ownable codes can feel risky in internal presentations. Generic, category-conforming designs are easier to defend: “This is what the category looks like; we fit in.” - Private label and copycat culture
Retailer brands frequently echo the market leader’s codes quite deliberately. The result is an arms race where leaders keep “updating” towards whatever is currently generic, further blurring the field.
The tragic irony is that exactly the assets that feel “too simple” or “too loud” in a boardroom – a solid, unusual colour; a unique shape; a distinctive mascot – are those that create long-term recognition.
Carmen’s succeeds where the others don’t in the health category by daring to be different. The black, the copperplate font, the photography. Forget green and leaves and oaty fonts.
The anatomy of strong brand codes on pack
So, what should brand managers and packaging designers do?
- Audit existing assets
Start by mapping which codes your brand already owns in consumers’ minds. Colours? Shapes? Phrases? Fonts? Test them: can people still link them to you when the logo is removed? - Separate “must have” category cues from ownable codes
You may need a bowl of oats somewhere on pack to signal the category. Fine. But that doesn’t mean the entire pack must look like every competitor’s. Retain the category cue; redesign the rest. - Commit to a small number of distinctive assets
Choose two or three core codes and use them relentlessly across all variants and channels. For example:- A specific shade of colour used as the dominant backdrop
- A unique pack architecture (logo always top-left, ingredient cluster in a fixed visual style)
- A recurring icon or character
- Resist the temptation to “modernise” every few years
Brand codes build strength through consistency over time, not through annual refreshes. Tweaks are fine; wholesale reinventions reset the mental file. - Design for distance and speed, not for the design studio wall
Test your packs at three metres’ distance, in low light, with other packs around them. Ask: “Can I recognise my brand in a glance?” If not, your consumer won’t either. - Use language as a code, not just a descriptor
Repeated phrases, rhythms and structures can become distinctive assets too. Think of “Have a break, have a KitKat.” In the oaty snack example, both brands default to generic lines like “Source of fibre” and “Baked Oaty Slices” instead of a branded line that could be theirs alone.
When two products look the same, both lose
Coming back to those two green snack boxes: who wins?
In the short term, one might gain a little from the other’s shelf presence. If a customer goes in with a vague memory of “those green oaty things with fibre,” either could benefit from the mental prompt created by the other.
But in the long term, both lose:
- Advertising efficiency drops because any investment in one brand’s codes could cue the other.
- Loyalty and repeat purchase are weakened because there is no strong, memorable code to anchor preference.
- Line extensions become harder to manage; without a strong core code, every new flavour risks fragmenting the visual system further.
- Price premiums are harder to sustain. If products look interchangeable, shoppers default to promotions and unit price.
Distinctiveness is not a luxury; it is a commercial necessity.
Lessons from the masters of codes
The brands that endure across decades tend to be maniacal custodians of their codes.
- Schweppes has built a tight visual system around yellow, black and metallic accents that signals both refreshment and a certain adult sophistication.
- Heinz rarely strays from its keystone label and bold, centred typography. The context – soups, sauces, baked beans – can change; the code does not.
- SPC tins and packs retain a consistent red banner and straightforward, almost retro photography that punches through visually busy competitors.
- Johnnie Walker can afford to experiment with limited editions precisely because its core codes – the colour ranges, bottle forms and iconic walker – remain non-negotiable.
These brands understand something simple: in a cluttered world, sameness is invisible. Codes are not decorative; they are the way a brand earns and defends mental shelf space.
A call to brand custodians
If you are a brand manager, packaging designer or marketing director, the question to ask as you walk your own supermarket aisle is not:
“Do we look on trend?”
but:
“Could someone who bought us once find us again in three seconds, with half their attention, from three metres away?”
If the honest answer is “not really,” then you have a brand-code problem.
The two oaty snacks that sparked this reflection are not poorly designed in a technical sense. The photography is competent, the claims are clear, the typography is neat. The issue is strategic: neither has staked a strong claim on any ownable code.
In a world where attention is scarce and differentiation at the level of product truth is minimal, brand codes are often the only sustainable competitive advantage left on the shelf. Protect them, sharpen them, and above all, make them unmistakably yours.
