A few weeks ago, this woman walks into my office in Dubai—our Webiniser HQ. Classic founder energy. You know the type. Confident but stretched thin. Witty but worn out. She had that look like she knew she built something good, but the numbers weren’t returning the favor.
Her name was Aira. She came in representing a brand she’d built from scratch—natural shampoo, made from real ingredients, small-batch, rooted in sustainability and scalp health.
I asked her, “So what’s the brand about?”
She sat up a little straighter, proud, and said something like, “Thalia Botanica is a clean, botanical-based haircare brand that brings together ancient ingredients with modern science to restore balance to your scalp and confidence to your hair.”
I nodded. “Cool. What do you actually sell?”
She said, “Shampoo.”
And right there, that gap between what she thought the brand was and what she actually sold—that’s where 90% of good businesses go quiet. Not because the product’s bad. Because the message is foggy.
So I told her: “You’re not here for design advice. You’re here for clarity.”
She said, “Exactly.”
And we got to work.
First thing I do with every founder like Aira?
I break their brand into the three parts that must do the heavy lifting without needing a slide deck, a brand book, or a founder monologue:
- 1. The Logo (the face)
- 2. The Name (the identity)
- 3. The Caption (the mouth)
And if those three don’t tell me what you sell, who it’s for, and why I should care within seconds, you’re not branding—you’re performing.
I asked her, “Can I see your website?”
She pulls it up.
Clean visuals. Elegant font. Herbal greens. Looks like every natural beauty brand trying to out-Zen the next.
At the top of the homepage, I read the caption:
“Where Nature Meets Science for Healthier Hair and a Greener Planet.”
I said, “Okay. Let’s say I’m a single mom, sitting on a toilet seat scrolling Instagram between putting my kid to sleep and reheating my dinner. Do you think this line is gonna stop me?”
She laughed. “Probably not.”
I said, “Exactly. It’s too soft. Too careful. Too ‘crafted.’ What does your customer’s scalp sound like when it’s screaming at 11PM?”
“‘Why the hell is my head still itching after paying $28 for a so-called clean shampoo,’” she said, instantly.
Now we were getting somewhere.
I said, “Forget the mission statement. What problem does your shampoo actually solve?”
She said, “Dry scalp. Flaky scalp. Postpartum hair loss. Build-up from commercial chemicals.”
“Good. That’s what we lead with. Because no one is buying shampoo. They’re buying relief.”
I walked her through the first reframe:
From:
“Where Nature Meets Science…”
To:
“Finally—natural shampoo that doesn’t leave your scalp worse than before.”
She burst out laughing. “I’ve said that to people! Just never wrote it.”
And that’s the trap. We speak the truth privately but market like we’re scared of being too plain.
The next step was to unhook her from the founder fantasy.
That fantasy where we think being vague makes us sound premium. Where we bury clarity under poetic fluff because we’re afraid direct language might make us “look small.”
You don’t need to look big.
You need to look real.
You need to sound like you’ve been where they are and you know the way out.
So we stripped the caption down to the bones. I said, “Give me the ‘I’m mad, I’ve tried everything, I just want something that works’ version.”
She took a breath, looked me in the eye, and said:
“This is shampoo for people who’ve tried everything and are still scratching.”
We both stared at that line. She smiled like she’d just exhaled three years of trying to sound like a wellness oracle.
“Now we’re cooking,” I said.
Next we tackled the product line.
One of her SKUs was called Clarifying Elixir Cleanse.
I said, “What the hell does that do?”
She said, “It clears scalp build-up caused by sweat, oil, and synthetic products.”
“So it’s for people whose scalps feel like a chalkboard?”
“Yeah. Basically.”
Cool. New name:
Chalkboard Scalp Fixer.
Or if she wanted to keep it clean:
Build-Up Buster.
She laughed again. “You make it sound so easy.”
It’s not easy. But it is simple. And most founders run from simple like it’s cheap.
But clarity isn’t cheap. Clarity is expensive to earn, but cheap to use. Once you’ve got it, your whole business unlocks.
Then came the moment where everything clicked.
We walked through the final trinity test:
Logo. Name. Caption.
I said, “Imagine someone sees your product on a shelf or a Shopify ad. They’ve never heard of you. What do they see?”
She said, “They see the name—Thalia Botanica. They see the logo. Then they read…”
“Natural shampoo for people who are sick of itchy scalps.”
I paused. Let it sit.
Then said, “That’s it. Now your brand talks. Now it speaks before you have to.”
Aira leaned back in the chair and said something I hear from every founder at this moment:
“Why didn’t I do this sooner?”
Because we’ve been trained to look premium before we speak human.
That ends here.
If your product can’t explain itself in a single sentence to a half-distracted human on bad Wi-Fi, you’re not underperforming because of ads, traffic, or pricing. You’re underperforming because you’re hiding the truth behind too many adjectives.
So here’s the lesson, from me to you:
Don’t try to sound bigger than you are. Try to sound clearer than everyone else.
Don’t chase clever. Chase comprehension.
Don’t talk about your ingredients. Talk about their itch.
Because when someone’s desperate for relief, they don’t need a brand story. They need a fix.
Give them the fix.
Then give them the story once they trust you enough to stay.
If you’re reading this and wondering why your “brand” isn’t clicking—do what Aira did.
Sit down. Strip the mission. Throw out the jargon. Answer this:
“What’s the pain my product solves—fast, plainly, and permanently?”
Say it.
Now build your caption around it.
Then stop tweaking your damn logo.
Because your customer doesn’t need elegance. They need evidence.
Proof that you understand what they’re going through.
Proof that you’ve built for them, not for your own ego.
Proof that you’re not just another pretty brand on the pile.
Final truth:
If your caption doesn’t speak human, your brand is mute.
Aira walked in with poetry.
She walked out with clarity.
And now?
She’s selling like hell.
If you’re ready to do the same—drop the fog, find the fire, and make your product speak before you do—come sit in the same chair Aira did.
We’ll strip it down.
We’ll rebuild it.
And your customers?
They’ll finally say: “Damn. That’s exactly what I needed.”
Not “inspired.”
Not “intrigued.”
Just… sold.
That’s the difference.
Welcome to Business Baron.
Say it like you sell it.