The Museum Of Marketistan

Welcome, everyone,to The Hall of ExtinctMarketing Species.Here you will learnabout trends that once ruledthe creative ecosystem, thoseevolutionary giants that once ruledour industry… only to collapseunder the weight of their ownsuccess. Please keep your voicedown, your phone silent, and yourjudgment ready.

Ah. Over here. Let’s startwhere it all began. Or at least,as far as this humble tour guidecan remember.

This first exhibit is quite melodic.Yup, these are Jingles. Thosemusical mascots of the ninetiesonwards that got stuck in yourhead for a couple of decades. Let’ssee if you can complete this…“Zero nine zero zero seven eightsix zero one…” Any takers? Yes!Telefun! See? It still works.

The Jingles were a magicaltime. Pure, catchy, and absolutelyeverywhere. McDonald’s, Lipton…For every brand with a marketingbudget and a composer on speeddial. For a while, it worked. Therewas brand equity in melody, andthey hammered them enough sothey got stuck in our heads. Butthen, like a pop song overplayedon the radio… haha, rememberthose? Anyway, that’s when thefatigue set in. The notes remained,but the resonance faded. I mean,some – ahem – tea brandscontinue to milk them. But, by andlarge, their time is gone.

And now… right this way, please…

You’ll notice a spotlighted zonewith absurd mannequins frozenmid-expression. Yes, that’s a donkeyright there, also called a gadha.These are The Slapstick TV Ads.A species born in the early 2000s,led famously by Ufone’s absurdisthumour and Faisal Qureshi’selastic facial muscles. It was funny.Until everyone did it. Then theybecame… “Oh, another one.” Thepunchlines got lazy, and the skitsgot stale. And one day, withoutfanfare, the laughter died out.

Watch your step here.

You are entering The Grand Hallof Overproduction. See the giantrevolving stage? The elaborate LEDsetup? Welcome to the Song andDance Era. From Tarang to Telenor,this was where budgets metchoreography. Brands confusedscale with substance, and themore dancers you had, the moresuccessful your TVC. But after awhile, no one remembered theproduct. Just the twirl. Or maybenot even that. So, the curtain fell.

Oh, and look over there.

A quiet little diorama, just twoscreens side-by-side. On the left:a glamorous shampoo ad fromVietnam. On the right: the samead, shot-for-shot, but with Urdudubbing and a local actor. Theseare The International Adaptations.They were efficient in a waybecause they avoided the risk ofactually thinking something upfrom scratch. Agencies loved thembecause they helped them padtheir productions. But also, theyare kind of a sad nod to creativesurrender. Brands like P&G andUnilever were key perpetrators.The result? Generic globalblandness pretending to be local.

Just past this display, you’ll findan eerily lifelike set of a morningshow studio.

Fake plants. Sofas. A hostholding a cooking oil bottle middua. This one is called ContentIntegrations. The local brandsreally went overboard with thisone, from laal sherbet to chai. Itstarted as a clever way to sneakbrands into morning chatter. Butafter a few years, the audiencebegan to notice the not-so-subtleproduct placements. And the trust?It quietly left the building.

Now, we are entering TheDomestic Drama section.

Here you’ll see two contrastingbut closely related species. On theleft: The Slice of Life Ads. Harmless,upper-middle-class scenes. Familydinners. Light-hearted banter.Usually used by banks, insurancecompanies and cooking oils. For adecade, they were considered ‘safe’ .But safety, as you’ll see, can be aslow death. They all began to lookthe same – you couldn’t tell if it wasa tea ad or a new savings account.

On the right: Tearjerker RamzanAds. You know the ones. A boygives away his shoes. A daughterprepares iftar for her father. SurfExcel and Shan led the movement.They tugged the heartstrings sohard that the public couldn’t feelanymore. What once evoked tearsnow triggered eye-rolls. Questionfrom the back? Yes, you, ma’am.Haha, did these ads ever work?Oh, absolutely. Many of themdominated awards and sentimentcharts. But that’s the thing aboutadvertising: even a good thinghas an expiry date, especially ifeveryone starts copying it.

Right ahead now…

Plug in your headphones aswe pass through The MusicHall. You’ll hear echoes of CokeStudio, Pepsi Battle of the Bands,Cornetto Pop Rock and NescaféBasement. This was a goldenera. Brands became enablers ofart. For a time, it was magic. Butwhen brand managers beganconfusing KPIs with chords, thesoul began to drain. Today, theexhibits here still sound good —but listen closely, and you’ll hearthe weariness in the notes.

The next exhibit has flashinglights and dramatic fans.

This one’s The Big CelebrityEndorsements. Step inside, andyou’ll see holograms of KareenaKapoor holding a QMobile, MahiraKhan sipping Slice and ShahidAfridi shampooing in slow-mofor Head & Shoulders. Thesewere glorious campaigns. Often,unrealistically glorious. Untilconsumers realised: Kareenadoesn’t use QMobile. Mahiradoesn’t drink Slice. (As a matterof fact, nobody should consumemangoes like that. It’s terriblyinefficient and unnervingly a thirsttrap.) And Afridi… well, we’ll letyou decide. It all started to feel likecosplay. Expensive, forced cosplay.

Now, tread lightly.

You’re entering The DigitalDesperation Corridor. Onyour left Guess & Win socialposts and contests. They wereinteractive. Engaging. But quicklybecame a running joke. “Guesswho will win today’s match!”“Tag your friends to win a freegiveaway!” Nobody rememberedthe brand. But everyoneremembered the cringe. Somebrands still use these tactics,giving out Toyota Fortuners andwhatnot. But by and large, it’sgone for good.

And then, The Urdu Rap Era.

Neon lights. Auto-tunedverses. Brands trying to rhymetheir taglines with the YoungStunners’ energy. KFC, Zong,and other such brands led thewave, trying to resonate withtheir impressionable youngaudiences. But subculture cannotbe manufactured in boardrooms.And the moment marketers foundit cool… it wasn’t. Sad, really.

Ahead… whoops, brace yourself…

Here is The Hall of OrganicReach Remains. On one side:Influencer Integrations so forcedthey squeaked. On the other, TheCrumble-Style Meme MarketingTrend. Brands clambering ontoevery viral trend with ‘funny posts’that looked like they were made byinterns held hostage. For a while, itworked. Then everyone did it. Andthe memes became advertising.And nobody laughed.

Now, as we reach the end, I inviteyou to step into the final chamber.

This is The Aurora Shrine.From 1998 to 2025, it stood notas a marketing pattern by itself,but as the observer of marketingtrends. A publication thatdocumented the ecosystem witheditorial integrity, sharp wit andmaybe a little too much restraintand rigour. While trends roseand fell, Aurora held the line. Itgave space to the practitioners,elevated the dialogue, andsometimes even let absurdfictional creative writing piecesbe run under the guise of‘marketing’. Alas, as attentionspans shifted to brain-rot memesand three-second dopaminehits, long-form information justdidn’t fly. Nobody had time toread anymore, I guess. Pleasefeel free to take a moment. Thepage – or screen – in front of youplays a loop of its final editorial:equal parts wisdom, warningand wonder.

And with that, our tour concludes.

Thank you for joining us. Wehope it’s been an interesting tour,and that you enjoyed seeing allthese bygone marvels exhibitedin their original glory. As youdepart, we urge you to think a little.Creativity lives, dies and is reborn,but history only remembers theones who mattered.

And luckily, we archived therest. Who knows, maybe thistour is also going to be a selfreferential exhibit one day? Enjoythe gift shop. We have discountson AI gimmicks this week.

Umair Kazi is Partner, Ishtehari,