Unicorns Wanted. Horses Hired

It started in a lecture theatre at UAL LCC.

A sea of bright faces, notebooks open, questions ready.

Every hand that went up asked some version of the same thing:

“How do I fit in?”

I remember smiling, partly because I recognised the anxiety, partly because I realised the irony. I work in an industry obsessed with standing out. The fact that our next generation of talent feels pressure to blend in is the most tragic paradox of all.

And that’s when it hit me: this isn’t a them problem.

It’s an us problem.

The Tragedy of Talent

Students believe success means blending in, while agencies believe success depends on standing out. That’s the tension. The supply wants to conform while the demand wants originality.

We tell students to “be different” but hand them portfolios full of look-alike case studies. We ask for boldness, then interview for “culture fit.” We idolise rebels but hire the reliable.

And so the cycle continues.

We keep saying we want unicorns, but we hire horses and paint them white.

So if students are desperate to fit in, where does that pressure even come from?

The Mirror Effect

It comes from us. From the reflection we’ve created.

For all our talk of creativity, we’ve accidentally standardised it. We wear the same trainers, reference the same films, copy the same decks. We laugh at the same memes, roll our eyes at the same clients, and perform the same cynicism.

What was once counter-cultural has become coded. The industry aesthetic, from pitch rooms to social feeds, has been domesticated into a style guide.

Advertising sells difference but rewards sameness.

We’ve become a hall of mirrors, reflecting our own mediocrity back to ourselves and calling it culture.

But sameness runs deeper than just style. What happens when it shapes the way we think?

Beyond Demographics

When sameness becomes mindset, diversity becomes performance.

The real diversity deficit in advertising isn’t demographic. It’s cognitive.

We’ve done well to bring new faces in, but what happens after they arrive? We induct them into sameness. We tell them the “agency way.” We sand down their accents, their instincts, their points of view.

The problem isn’t that Peter and John look the same. It’s that they think the same. They wear the same Carhartt jackets to signal working-class integrity. They buy the same sneakers that pretend at rebellion. They stream the same shows and post the same irony-laced memes about capitalism on company Wi-Fi.

Adding Ajay to that mix doesn’t solve anything if Ajay learns to perform the same version of “creative cool” that Peter and John already perfected. Diversity of presence means nothing without diversity of perspective.

And even before Ajay walks in, we need to ask how Peter and John differ from their boss, Michael, and from each other. Because if the hierarchy, the humour, the taste and the thinking all look identical, then no one in that room is truly different.

Inclusion isn’t about who gets in the door. It’s about who stays themselves once they’re inside.

If sameness has taken root at every level, how did we let it happen?

The Conformity Paradox

We let it happen because the system rewards safety.

Awards celebrate what’s already won. Clients buy what’s already sold. Career ladders favour the agreeable over the radical.

We’ve professionalised rebellion into respectability. Our creativity now comes pre-approved by process.

Once, we were pirates. Now, we’re procurement-compliant.

Advertising’s greatest act of conformity is pretending it’s still rebellious.

We talk about disruption like it’s a deliverable, not a mindset. We mistake presentation for progress.

If that’s the problem, then how do we start to fix it?

Rewilding Creativity

It begins by making difference safe again.

We don’t need another hiring initiative or culture deck. We need to rewild creativity — to bring a little unpredictability, contradiction and humanity back into it.

Because if we don’t, homogenisation wins.

And if you want excellence in homogenisation, just use AI.

The truth is, there’s no problem with Peter or John as individuals. But if they start to think the same, speak the same, and make the same kind of work, then what’s the point of having both? Why bother with people at all when algorithms can now out-average us all?

Grayson Perry said it best: “Nobody does mediocrity better than AI.”

That’s why rewilding creativity isn’t just about the industry. It’s about rewilding our humanity — rediscovering the messy, emotional, illogical parts of ourselves that make creative work worth doing in the first place.

Maybe group thinking was fine when there was no artificial intelligence. But in this new world, if the group keeps thinking alike, then the group becomes replaceable.

So create environments where curiosity isn’t punished by hierarchy. Hire for imagination, not imitation. Reward the idea that almost fails brilliantly over the one that safely delivers.

Because if advertising was once the art of standing out, saving it starts with letting people be who they already are.

And if we can’t do that, then maybe the algorithms deserve the job.

But when the machines finally take over our sameness, what will be left of us to imitate?

And Finally, The Paint Dries

That’s when we see it for what it is.

The industry keeps painting horses white and calling them unicorns. It’s a good trick until someone wipes the paint off.

Maybe the next generation doesn’t need our advice on “fitting in.” Maybe they need our permission to stop trying.

Maybe we don’t need to paint more horses.

We just need to remember what real unicorns look like.