Retro Branding Isn’t Just About the Past. It’s About the Version of You That Still Lives There.

I saw a Tamagotchi at Target one time while I was shopping for a birthday present for my niece. I snapped a photo and texted my sister-in-law. She empathized with my flash of excitement but quickly reminded me that my niece probably wouldn’t find it so interesting.

And honestly, she was right. My niece lives in a world of immersive games, custom characters, and endless digital landscapes. A blinking egg that beeps when it’s hungry just doesn’t hold up.

But standing there in the toy aisle, I realized, it wasn’t for her.

It was for me.

That tiny plastic pet was a memory trigger for the parent who agreed to browse the aisle, or an aunt like me, shopping for a gift.

For a second, I felt it all again. The guilt of letting my digital pet die for the tenth time (like I do my plants now). The weird pride in knowing I could buy it right then, without asking permission. The small, sweet chaos of childhood responsibility.

The Tamagotchi didn’t survive the years. In fact, I’d all but forgotten about them. But the feeling didn’t.

And for a moment, that was enough.

It’s the same way I feel when I pull out the old Super Nintendo. (I still have the one that belonged to my uncle, then my brother, and, finally, me). The cartridges only work if you blow the dust out just right, and no cleaner will fix the yellowed plastic. There’s a whole stack of games, but I only ever want to play one: Donkey Kong Country. It’s the same one my cousin and I played over and over, every summer. Of course, there are many simulators, but for some reason, they never feel quite right.

Also, one of my favorite outings is visiting breweries that are also arcades, because they walk the line between adulthood and something young and playful.

Why We Keep Going Back

Researchers in "Teaching Old Brands New Tricks" (Brown, Kozinets, and Sherry, 2003) discuss this exact tension, as well as the emotional, social, and symbolic factors that make retro branding so appealing. They describe how retro products create a bridge between the past and the present, offering a sense of emotional continuity.

They outline four elements that help explain its emotional pull:

• Allegory (Brand Story) – The story must be moral and meaningful, not just historical.

• Example: The Beetle’s “car of the people” story or Star Wars’s moral battle between good and evil.

• Arcadia (Idealized Community) – The Utopian sense of shared belonging created by nostalgic brands.

  Example: Beetle drivers waving to one another; Star Wars fans forming global fan communities.

• Aura (Brand Essence) – Signs that the new version captures the spirit of the original, not just its design.

  Example: Fans debating whether the New Beetle or the Star Wars prequels still hold the “original magic.”

• Antinomy (Brand Paradox) – The tension between contradictory ideas like progress vs primitivism.

  Example: The Beetle’s Nazi origins versus its 1960s counterculture rebirth, or Star Wars’s sacred story vs. commercial franchise.

The researchers used a method called netnography, a digital form of ethnography. Instead of watching people in person, they studied the conversations consumers were already having online in forums and discussion groups.

They focused on two major retro brands with invested fans: Volkswagen’s New Beetle and Star Wars: Episode I – The Phantom Menace.

Over the course of several months, they gathered and analyzed hundreds of posts from fan communities, which were filled with memories, critiques, debates, and emotional responses to the new versions of these brands. They employed qualitative analysis, identifying recurring themes and cultural patterns in how people discussed these brands.

Some found the New Beetle charming. Others saw it as a shallow imitation. But both sides were doing the same work: trying to locate the “real” meaning of the brand in a changed world.

What both the New Beetle and Star Wars films taught is that brands succeed when they reinterpret. And the best reinterpretations leave space for personal stories.

The Beetle was a memory, a protest, or maybe the buyer’s car during their first relationship. The New Beetle had to carry all of that, and whether it succeeded or failed depended not just on what it was, but on who was looking at it, and what they needed it to be.

Authenticity resides in the emotional negotiations between the brand, the consumer, and the culture.

Retro Branding Can Fail, and It Often Does

When brands push too hard into commerce or stray too far from what people loved, fans push back. Not because they’ve stopped caring, but because they cared too much to let the brand drift quietly into something unrecognizable.

In the study, Star Wars fans joked about George Lucas as both creator and corrupt god. In more extreme cases, one fan named “Bill” suggested taking the brand back entirely.

I have a fair share of super fans in my orbit.

Sometimes the remake fails, and they’ll be quick to tell you that the reason they’ve made the spin-off is money. In these circumstances, the narrative might be forced or hollow.

The new Alien film, Prometheus, left many less than satisfied for this reason.

It was missing that essence found in Alien (1979) and Aliens (1986), both felt like bold, creative visions, even though they were totally different in tone.

The lesson: if you break the emotional logic of the original, fans will reject it.

Retro branding is effective when it allows people to recall the past and see themselves reflected in it again.

Retro branding is most effective when a brand once held emotional or cultural significance and can be updated without compromising its core identity.

Fans want to feel like the new version understands who they’ve become, too.

That’s why retro branding is always a collaboration (and all branding really). The brand brings the imagery, the callbacks, and the design. However, consumers bring their memories, emotions, and moral meanings. Successful retro branding taps into personal stories, imagined identities, and longings that never fully left us.

Brand managers can’t simply dictate identity. They have to listen to the stories being told about their brand. They must court risk, embrace complexity, and understand that brand authenticity is not about control.

Retro branding is authentic when consumers sense that a brand knows where they’ve been and wants to meet them there again … at Target two hours before a birthday party. Kind of like an emotional souvenir at the exact right moment.

Teaching New Brands Old Tricks

Retro brands offer a sense of community and stability in uncertain times. They connect people through shared memories and cultural touchstones. When the world changes quickly, that steadiness can feel especially valuable.

Many researchers identified consistency as a contributor to a brand’s perceived authenticity. It is a concept that appears in somewhat different forms, depending on the study: nostalgia, heritage, history, and continuity.

Authenticity comes from showing up again and again with purpose. It’s staying true to what you stand for, even when it costs you something.

Consistency (and the authenticity it creates) is a tool that’s available even to brands without a nostalgic past.

Even symbolism doesn’t require decades to build, sure, old brands had time to collect symbols (the Coke bottle, VW shape, Star Wars logo).

But new brands can build their own symbols early. Think of an image, phrase, or ritual that people can recognize and pass along.

Example: Liquid Death’s water cans feel instantly iconic because they flipped a simple object (a water can) into a rebellious cultural symbol.

Retro brands evoke the past because they represent something.

New brands aren’t excluded from this idea of creating space people return to when they want to feel grounded, understood, or inspired.