Recently, I attended the Fine Food Expo in Melbourne with the full intention of networking and taking note of the city’s latest innovations in the food and beverage category. Instead, I found myself casting this mission aside just so I could line up and get a photo with a man in a giant pickle costume (don’t judge me – you would have done it too).
What struck me, though, was that the giant dill pickle spruiking DJ&A was hardly the only mascot parading around the event. A giant pie from Patties was in the mix as well, eyes bright and calling people over for photo opportunities, while Vegemite’s very own “Mitey”, a walking, dancing Vegemite jar, was working the room.
Now, three mascots strolling around a convention is not particularly unheard of, I know. But I encountered these walking personifications of brands at a time when it feels like there are more mascots than ever. Which led me to an incredibly tantalising thought: is it possible that we are currently living through a renaissance of the mascot?
Mascots of course were standard practice in the golden advertising era of the 1960 and 70s, before being cast aside for branding that felt more sophisticated, more corporate, more “grown-up” and – let’s be honest – more boring.
This isn't just the wishful thinking of one bright-eyed, optimistic strategist having a cuddle with a giant meat pie, either. No, dear reader, I have receipts. To name but a few recent examples:
We have “Lil’ Finder Guy,” launched by Apple back in March as a way to promote the affordable MacBook Neo to younger generations (whether he’s creepy or cute is at your discretion).
“Niles” the Crocs crocodile has been making waves and breaking hearts all over social media – hard-launched in August as a loveable, quirky weirdo, perfectly mirroring the beloved yet horrid shoes he represents.
And we even have Frank Walker of National Tiles literally bursting onto the scene in some fantastic new TVCs from agency Sunday Gravy, fully embracing his weirdly iconic, annoying persona and becoming an official physical face of the brand – not just a voice.
And those are just the latest. Duo from Duolingo occupied an enormous amount of mental space during the Brat era, bringing the brand’s unhinged digital character into real-life situations to drive unprecedented social engagement. We’ve had brand-new characters freshly minted, and old classics like Smith’s chip monster “the Gobbledok” making special anniversary comebacks. A special mention, of course, goes to my personal favourite: DiDi’s “Nudgy,” brilliantly reflecting the mischievous social pressure that keeps people partying long into the night.
Now, I’ll admit I’m not the first to notice this. Zac Nikolovski’s Mumbrella piece, “Mascots are back, thanks to social media, but did they ever go away?”, makes an excellent case that mascots have always been a mainstay of effective branding because they excel at drawing people in. As human beings, we will always be more drawn to a face than a logo.
From a strategic lens, a mascot does something a static asset simply cannot: it wears all the colours, crests and Distinctive Brand Assets (DBAs) of a brand at once. It is quite literally the sum of everything that makes your brand unique, supercharging mental availability in a crowded marketplace.
And unlike a logo, a mascot can step off the screen. It gives your brand a living, breathing presence in the real world, turning what is otherwise an abstract idea in a consumer’s mind into a physical moment you can line up for, hug and photograph (giant pie included).
Culturally, this connection runs deep. The very word mascot is derived from the French "mascotte," meaning a lucky charm or something that would bring good fortune to a household. Over time, this concept moved from the home to the stadium, as sporting teams eagerly embraced animal mascots as a powerful way for communities to unite. People needed a figure to rally behind—a tangible embodiment of their team’s spirit. When brands deploy a mascot today, they tap into that exact same tribal, emotional desire for connection.
But I think there’s another part to this mystery, something less tangible and harder to measure: mascots make brands fun. In a world that can feel like a perpetual doomscroll, where interactions between companies and consumers are increasingly transactional, that fun is a much-needed antidote.
Yes, advertising exists to reach people, build memory structures and ultimately drive conversion. But that exchange can feel like either a tax on the consumer or a bonus, and mascots make it feel like the latter. They’re a return to a time when brands actively contributed to culture and people’s lives, building creative equity through stories we relate to and characters we laugh with, rather than simply extracting value.
That fun has a practical job, too – one mascots have quietly done since the very beginning. They entertain us.
Now I’m not much of a baseball fan, but the Americans worked this out first. Baseball is a long game with a lot of standing around, and the gaps between innings can feel like an eternity. Back in the 70’s, the San Diego Chicken and the Phillie Phanatic burst onto the scene as furry (and feathery) agents of chaos whose whole job was to fill that dead air with something worth watching. They turned low engagement moments into a spectacle, and kept people in their seat for longer.
Brands do exactly the same thing. Plenty of categories are what we in the branding world call “low engagement” – or, put less politely, a bit dull. Tiles. Chips. Rideshare. Shoes. Language apps. A mascot gamifies the mundane, giving people a character to play with, laugh at and follow. Duo’s passive-aggressive reminders turned daily homework into a running joke the whole internet was in on.
This is where the mascot starts to look a lot like the court jester. In The Hero and the Outlaw, Margaret Mark and Carol S. Pearson name the Jester as one of the core brand archetypes: the figure who brings play, mischief and lightness to a world that takes itself far too seriously. But don’t be fooled by the frivolity. Like the jester, the mascot plays a serious strategic role, shaping not just how a brand is perceived, but how it is remembered and codified.
There’s a distinction worth drawing, though. The jester entertained the king, and was one of the few people at court allowed to mock him (a position of remarkable influence). The mascot entertains the public, and is allowed to mock the brand itself (just as influential). That’s why Frank Walker can lean into being annoying, and why Niles can be as functional and fugly as the shoes he sells. The mascot gives a brand permission to laugh at itself, and audiences reward that humility with attention.
Of course, a mascot isn’t a silver bullet. It takes long-term commitment, significant investment to build equity, and a clear understanding of your audience so the character doesn’t cross the line from endearing to forced. But backed by a clear behavioural strategy, the payoff is massive. If you expect someone to let your brand live rent-free in their head because they’ve seen your TVC eight times, the least you can do is make it entertaining.
From the introduction of Niles to the return of Birdie at Macca’s, we could be standing on the precipice of a new golden age for brand mascots. I welcome it, and I encourage brands to follow suit. Not just because the data shows it can be incredibly effective for long-term growth, but because it means the 4,000 to 10,000 brand interactions we encounter a day might actually become positive ones.
And that is a golden age this strategist can get behind.
-
Written by Calin Barker, Strategist at The Edison Agency
