In defense of the ever-perfect zine

As the “great log-off” gathers momentum, brands are scrambling to reach people in the real world again.

Extravagant pop-ups, scented billboards - even tote bags are all having their moment. But in the hunt for novelty, one of the most powerful offline marketing tools has been overlooked and left in the dust: the humble zine. That's right: photocopied, stapled, and most of the time unevenly folded. It might not scream "high budget brand activation", but it does something most marketing struggles with: it builds real community. It carries aesthetic weight, it’s practical to make, and it can quietly work harder for your brand than a TikTok ever will.

Contrary to popular belief, zines aren’t a trendy gimmick.

They come from a lineage of rebellion. Punk scenes of the 70s spread their manifestos through zines when mainstream media ignored them (riot grrrl). Bands in the 90s used zines as community blueprints. Queer and underground communities have long relied on them as safe spaces and survival guides. Graphic designers, comic artists, and skaters embraced zines as vessels for cut-and-paste chaos.

So basically, zines have been made and used by some of the coolest people to ever exist on Earth. And that heritage matters. When you hold a zine, you’re holding a piece of counterculture history. For brands, stepping into that lineage comes with responsibility, but also with instant cool factor. A zine says: "we’re not trying to blast you with an ad, we’re inviting you into a conversation (and are you even cool enough to join?)"

Because it’s not broadcast media. It’s a dialogue.

The whole DNA of a zine is participatory: anyone can contribute, remix, or pass one along. That makes it sticky in ways social posts can only dream of. Imagine a skate brand that fills its zine with fan doodles and anecdotes from the curb. Or a beauty label publishing letters from customers to their younger selves. Suddenly, the zine isn’t content about the community, it’s content from the community. That kind of co-creation is how you transform customers into insiders. And insiders to life-long fans.

The circulation is also so organic when you think about it. Zines get left in cafes, swapped between friends, slipped into tote bags. They’re little paperback nomads, travelling around but also ever present. Unlike a 24-hour Story, a zine can resurface years later and still feel potent, even if it’s just for nostalgias sake. In the digital age, where everything is high-gloss and hyper-polished, zines stand out because they are the opposite: grainy photocopies, handwritten scrawls, cut-and-paste collages. That imperfection is refreshing. It signals authenticity and experimentation, qualities audiences are starving for, particularly in the era of AI everything.

They’re also inherently collectible. A limited print run makes a zine feel more like merch than marketing. Because it is.  People pin them to corkboards, archive them in shelves, or store them in boxed to be unearthed in another place and time entirely. The irony lies within the fact that their analog charm actually translates beautifully back online. A single snapshot of your zine in the wild can rack up likes, but also offer you digital reach without digital dependence.

And here’s the best kept secret: zines are cheap and flexible.

Print runs can be tiny or large. Distribution can be as simple as slipping them into online orders, handing them out at events, or mailing them to superfans. Start small. Fold a single A4 into a booklet and fill it with:

• a manifesto or poem that captures your brand’s ethos

• sketches, doodles, or behind-the-scenes notes

• interviews with fans or staff playlists

• a collage of things inspiring your team right now

You don’t need a six-figure budget. All you need is a printer, some imagination, and the willingness to embrace imperfection.

But is a zine right for your brand?

Not every brand needs one, true. But many could benefit. Here’s a quick gut check:

• Do you have a niche or community you want to speak with, not just to?

• Do you have ideas, visuals, or stories that don’t fit neatly into a TikTok slot?

• Do you want your audience to feel like insiders rather than customers?

If you’re nodding along, the zine is your friend. You may be thinking, “But hold on…”

• “Aren’t zines too niche?” Yes. And that’s the point. They’re not for everyone. They’re for your people.

• “Isn’t print dead?” Exactly. In a world drowning in digital, paper feels intimate. That’s why it works.

• “Isn’t this just a brochure?” No. A brochure advertises. A zine invites. One sells. The other connects.

Zines aren’t just nostalgia. Fashion brands like Supreme and Acne Studios have long relied on them as cultural touchstones.

Indie beauty brands slip them into packaging as love letters to their customers. Even software companies are experimenting with community zines to deepen loyalty. The format is flexible enough to carry almost any identity: edgy, playful, earnest or ironic. As brands get louder and louder trying to break through online noise, the zine whispers. It doesn’t flood your feed or hijack your attention. It sits on a table, gets passed hand-to-hand, lingers in someone’s bag. It doesn’t vanish with the algorithm; it accrues meaning over time.

That’s not nostalgia. That’s power. And if your brand is serious about building community, it might be time to dust off the stapler - if you think you're cool enough, that is. 

-Sophie Randell, Writer