In 2005, the future of American business was reflected in the spotless tile behind a toilet bowl. Procter & Gamble had released the Mr. Clean Magic Reach, a sleek tool with a detachable head for scrubbing the darkest recesses of a bathroom. Developed in just 18 months, it represented a strategic move to elevate design throughout P&G, an effort that then CEO A.G. Lafley had spearheaded with an almost religious fervor. “Remember that one of the disciples had to put his hand in the bloody wounds to believe,” he told a reporter at the time, comparing the design skeptics within various divisions of the company to an incredulous apostle. “We have some businesses that are doubting Thomases.” His conviction paid off. P&G’s sales doubled and profits quadrupled between 2000 and 2009, aided by the steady release of new, design-forward products.
P&G wasn’t alone. Throughout the 2000s and 2010s, stalwarts (Coca-Cola, McDonald’s, Ford) and startups (Jawbone, Casper) alike were converting to the church of design. IBM, for instance, spent more than $100 million to open 10 design labs and hire 1,000 new designers. For these companies, design wasn’t just a tool for prettying up a product line; it was an identity, a differentiator, the ultimate competitive advantage. It’s what led Coca-Cola to unveil a soda fountain inspired by a Ferrari, and McDonald’s to sink $2.4 billion into modernizing its restaurants. Fast Company captured the emerging sentiment in a 2004 issue that showcased 20 designers and design advocates: “Design shapes a company’s reason for being; it has become an undeniably transformative force in business and society.”
These days, it’s rare that the CEO of P&G discusses design publicly. Same with the CEO of McDonald’s. Coca-Cola’s CEO, James Quincey, even goes so far as to describe himself as “an engineer at heart. And a rationalist.” In some ways, their silence signals that design has been written into so many pages of the corporate playbook that it no longer warrants much discussion. In others, it represents a capitulation: Design may be an important part of creating a product that sells, but it’s no magical solution for transforming companies and conquering competitors. “It [went] from ‘Wow, design can save the world!’ to ‘Shit, this is hard,'” says Robert Brunner, founder of the San Francisco design firm Ammunition. “‘We’ve made this investment. Now what?'”
Apple envy is partly to blame for corporate America’s love affair with design. Steve Jobs returned to Apple in 1996, formed a mind-meld with industrial-design savant Jony Ive, and revived the company one glorious product at a time, from the iMac to the iPod to the iPhone. By 2011, Apple was pulling in annual profits of nearly $26 billion. The message was clear: Design beautiful things that consumers love, and watch your fortunes soar. “I don’t know how many times people came in the door and said, ‘I want the iPhone version of this,'” says Brunner, whose design agency was responsible for such culture-defining products as Beats by Dre headphones and the Ember smart mug.
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