Retroactive Continuity
Mythologising and Retelling Narratives
Following on from my trend of hearing a term or phrase that pricks my ears up and sends me on thought patterns and rabbit holes, I recently found myself hooked on the concept of "ret-conning." It's a Hollywood term, short for "retroactive continuity," and it's all about reframing the past to fit a new, cohesive narrative. That's where the rabbit hole started and where I began to explore how myth-making, storytelling, and the art of tying chaos together can shape not just movies, but our lives, our brands, and even our creative identities.
The Power of Myth-Making
Mythologising isn't about fabricating truths; it's about identifying the meaningful moments and giving them weight. It's why origin stories, from Nike's waffle iron innovation to Chanel's little black dress, carry such cultural gravitas. These narratives become shorthand for values, innovation, and ethos. They allow us to anchor the chaos of growth, missteps, and evolution into something purposeful and even legendary.
But here's the kicker: myths, like brands, are living entities. They must adapt and shift in tandem with culture. Just as Hollywood retrofits past films to align with new arcs, we can revisit our narratives not to distort the truth, but to uncover coherence and resonance in the face of change.
When Retconning Goes Wrong
The shadow side of retconning emerges when revision slides into revisionism. Brands that rewrite their histories too aggressively risk undermining consumer trust. Consider fashion houses that suddenly claim environmental credentials despite decades of documented waste, or tech companies that position themselves as privacy champions after years of data harvesting. These retcons fail because they contradict lived consumer experience and documented reality.
Politicians have long been masters of the problematic retcon, selectively editing past positions or conveniently forgetting statements that no longer serve their current narrative. In the digital age, these attempts at narrative control often backfire spectacularly when confronted with archival evidence. The audience holds the receipts.
Celebrity retconning creates similar dissonance. When stars attempt to reshape their origin stories to appear more authentic or aligned with current values, the artifice often shows. The public generally forgives evolution but rejects fabrication. Authenticity requires acknowledging change rather than pretending it never happened.
The most egregious retcons share a common trait: they attempt to erase rather than contextualise the past. True narrative craft isn't about deletion but about integration, finding meaning in the contradictions rather than pretending they never existed.
Tying Chaos Together
In our creative and personal journeys, chaos often reigns. Some days, it feels like you're juggling mismatched puzzle pieces, unsure if they'll ever form a clear picture. But chaos is also fertile ground for reinvention. The beauty of ret-conning isn't erasing the past; it's reframing it to highlight how every misstep, experiment, and odd detour actually contributed to the story's richness.
Take the creative process. How many campaigns or projects look pristine and intentional at the end but started in confusion? That wild brainstorming session, the risky concept that nearly flopped, the unexpected collaboration. These are often the most critical threads in the narrative. Mythologising isn't ignoring the messy bits; it's making them meaningful.
The Danger of Overpolishing
While mythologising is powerful, overdoing it risks losing authenticity. Not every story needs to be polished to a fault. The cracks, contradictions, and unplanned pivots are where humanity shines through. In branding and creativity, this is the balance to strike: embrace myth-making, but leave enough room for the raw, the real, and the relatable.
Myth-Making in Action: The Comeback Narrative
Brands that master the art of resurrection understand something profound about mythology: every phoenix needs ashes. Consider Apple's narrative transformation. After near-bankruptcy in the 90s, they didn't erase their stumbles but reframed them as necessary wilderness years that birthed innovation. The "Think Different" campaign wasn't just advertising—it was retconning their story into one of deliberate counterculture resistance.
Old Spice transformed from your grandfather's aftershave into cultural relevance not by abandoning heritage but by finding the humour within it. Their mythmaking wasn't fabrication but revelation—uncovering something authentic that was there all along, just waiting for the right cultural moment.
Nike's narrative mastery runs even deeper. That waffle iron moment, when Bill Bowerman poured rubber into his wife's kitchen appliance, transcended from happy accident to founding mythology. But Nike's genius lies in how they mythologise not just triumphs but missteps. Remember the golden track spikes from the 2000 Olympics? When sprinter Michael Johnson's custom shoes started to disintegrate, Nike didn't bury the story. They elevated it into a narrative about pushing boundaries, about how true innovation sometimes means going right to the edge—and occasionally over it. The failure became testament to their commitment to breaking barriers rather than evidence of design flaws.
These transformations work precisely because they don't start from scratch. They identify the golden thread of authenticity running through their history and pull it forward, allowing consumers to see continuity where others might see contradiction. Burberry's shift from chavvy check to luxury icon worked because they reclaimed elements of their aristocratic heritage while acknowledging their street culture moment rather than erasing it entirely.
The Strategic Retelling
The most compelling rebrands teach us that successful mythologising requires both courage and restraint. Netflix evolved from DVD-by-mail to streaming giant by maintaining their core identity as content curators while letting go of outdated delivery mechanisms. Their story remains coherent because they knew which parts of their narrative to preserve and which to release.
This balancing act applies beyond corporate narratives. In our personal and creative journeys, the same principles emerge. Certain defining moments become our anchors, the professional misstep that revealed our true calling, the failed project that taught us resilience, while others fade into background texture.
The art lies in recognising which chapters deserve elevation and which require quiet acknowledgment. Like the sportswear giant reclaiming their innovation story through the very products that once failed, we find power in transforming supposed setbacks into essential plot points in our larger narrative.
Hollywood calls it ret-conning. Marketers call it rebranding. But beneath both practices lies something more fundamental: the human impulse to create coherence from chaos, to find meaning in the seemingly random, to transform disconnected moments into a narrative worth telling.
In the end, myth-making serves as both compass and mirror. It shows us where we've been while illuminating where we might go next, a bridge between past identity and future possibility.