So, recently I decided to make a little personal project. Not because I had extra time or was feeling inspired or anything like that, but because I needed somewhere to put all the general, low-level frustration of just existing right now. So between shoots and sending yet another round of cold emails and doomscrolling and walking the dog, I somehow ended up making a fake sparkling water brand. I didn’t plan it. I didn’t even realize that’s where I was heading until I was basically already there. I just needed something creative that wasn’t work-work.
And that’s how I got Barely. A premium sparkling water for people who are still here. Not doing great. Not falling apart. Just operating at about half battery, which honestly feels normal at this point.
Barely looks like it could be a real brand. It also looks exhausted, which honestly makes it feel very right. If a drink could make eye contact across a room and quietly whisper “same,” that’s this beverage.
The idea came from noticing how everything is “extra” right now. Every product is trying to “fix” you or turn you into some aspirational version of yourself who absolutely goes to bed on time, eats creatine, drinks herbs, and keeps 6 tubes of the latest viral lip gloss in their bag because it’s a GAME CHANGER. Meanwhile most of us are just trying to send that one email we’ve been avoiding for three days and debating whether a bag of pretzels can legally qualify as dinner. So I thought, okay, let’s make a sparkling water for people who are just… showing up. No transformation. No wellness mission. No promise. Just water.
Barely is exactly that. It’s literally just sparkling water. Nothing is infused. Nothing is enhanced. It’s not trying to heal your gut or balance your energy or give you better skin by Thursday. It’s just cold and carbonated. “Some days you’re great. Some days you’re barely functioning. Either way you still need to drink water.”
The design is simple: a pale blue gradient, a quiet black logotype, and a parenthetical on the front doing most of the emotional storytelling. The whole thing scales with almost no effort. Barely (Functioning). Barely (Flavored). Barely (Carbonated). A whole brand built with the emotional energy of deciding between oat milk or almond. That honestly made me laugh.
The images came from the same place. I didn’t want parody. I wanted it to feel like someone photographed an extremely normal Tuesday. Clean, because that’s just how my brain works, but not styled to death. Editorial without doing that “editorial voice.” And because Barely isn’t a real product, I had to build everything myself with this weird little cocktail of photography, Illustrator, Photoshop, Nano Banana, 3D bits, compositing, generative fill, and some good old-fashioned retouching. The rule for the shots was basically: does “At least you’re hydrated” fit here? If yes, done.
From there it escalated. I wrote packaging copy that kind of judges you, but in a supportive way. A billboard idea that basically shrugs. A website that fits on half a page. And then a whole pitch deck happened? I don’t know. At some point I looked up and realized I had created an entire Series A presentation for a beverage that literally promises nothing, and somehow still seems like something I’d grab off a shelf. I couldn’t stop laughing. The traction slide is one of my favorite parts. “Retailers say it’s quietly selling through. Customers say: this feels accurate.” IYKYK.
What surprised me most is that the joke ended up being optional. If you take away the copy, Barely still looks like a legit beverage brand. If you leave it in, it becomes painfully relatable. It sits in this weird little space between satire and “oh, yeah, that’s me.”
Mostly, though, it just felt nice to make something for no reason - like a tiny, carbonated sigh. It was a good reminder that not everything needs to lead somewhere. Sometimes it helps to make things simply because making things helps.
Anyway. Here’s Barely. A sparkling water for the days when “fine” is honestly pretty generous. Enjoy~
PS: If you’re a VC and want to make this real, reach out. I already made a pitch deck. I don’t know how that happened either, but here we are.
