By now you’ve probably already noticed it in some of the brands you use daily—“hand-drawn” typography or hastily scanned textures layered over otherwise unremarkable photos. Maybe your cleaning product brands use visual references from a time when “things were easier,” like hand-painted signage and retro illustrations. Or they’re using imperfect blobby type that’s supposed to help designs feel “organic.” Ever notice that your favorite new bakery’s identity seems purposely a little ugly? The use of this kind of “handmade” aesthetic has been debated in the design community for a long time. But, I’d argue that it’s only recently that the trend has drifted into something that feels . . . forced. Panera Bread’s recent incorporation of highly polished swash typography to no doubt recall the hand-painted signage of your favorite local grocer feels at odds with its reputation for mass-produced “quality ingredients.” St. Regis has recently announced a collection of ultra-high-luxury hospitality brands, many of which use hand-drawn elements perhaps at odds with its highly polished luxury properties. Most telling is Claude’s branding, incorporating hand-drawn illustrations and details that attempt to tell the world, “Hey, we’re the more human AI.” Blame technology. Designers have a tendency to lead with their passions, and with AI feeling both threatening and exploitative to many in the community, there’s a natural impulse to push away from anything digital. But, as with the skeuomorphism of the aughts or the grunge-ification of the ’90s before it, our industry has pushed too far, sparking a trendy style that reflects designers’ uneasy relationship with technology more than it serves a real need. Hand-drawn, hand-crafted elements have a place in design, to be sure—for the right brand or the right concept. And true craftsmanship is never out of style. But when this hand-rendered patina is used over and over again, it begins to fall flat, and offer neither enough resonance nor s