You've seen it. Everyone has. Maybe it was that "groundbreaking" new app that was really just a spreadsheet with a neon UI, or perhaps it was a corporate merger rebranded as a "synergistic evolution" to hide massive layoffs. We call it putting lipstick on a pig. It's a phrase that feels a bit dusty, maybe a little mean, but honestly? It’s more relevant in 2026 than it ever was back when it first started appearing in newspapers over a century ago.
Words matter. But the reality behind them matters more.
The concept is simple: you can dress something ugly in the finest silk, but at the end of the day, it's still a farm animal. It’s about superficial changes that fail to address underlying, systemic rot. In the world of business and politics, this isn't just a metaphor. It's a multi-billion dollar industry.
Where "Lipstick on a Pig" Actually Came From
People often think this is some ancient proverb from the Middle Ages. It’s not. While the idea of "dressing up a hog" has roots in various 19th-century American idioms, the specific phrasing we use today gained massive traction in the mid-20th century.
Knute Rockne, the legendary Notre Dame football coach, is often credited with an early variation in the 1920s, essentially saying that you can put a silk dress on a pig, but it’s still a pig. But let’s be real—the phrase truly exploded into the global consciousness during the 2008 US Presidential election. Barack Obama used it to describe John McCain’s policies, which led to a massive, albeit temporary, media firestorm.
Wait, it goes back further.
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The Los Angeles Times used a version of it in 1985 to describe a renovation project. The core sentiment is always the same: obfuscation. It’s the art of the "rebrand" when what you actually need is a "rebuild."
The Psychology of the Superficial Fix
Why do we do it? Why do smart people spend millions of dollars putting lipstick on a pig instead of just buying a better animal?
Psychologically, humans are suckers for "novelty bias." We see something shiny and new, and for a split second, our brains ignore the fact that the foundations are crumbling. Cognitive dissonance plays a huge role here. If a CEO has invested five years into a failing product, it is physically and emotionally painful to admit it’s a "pig." It’s much easier to hire a boutique design firm to change the logo to a serif font and call it a "pivot."
The "New Look" Trap
Sometimes, this happens because of "Feature Creep."
A company has a core product that doesn't work. Instead of fixing the core engine, they add a voice assistant. Then they add an AI wrapper. Then they add social sharing. Now you have a pig with lipstick, eyeshadow, and a very expensive haircut. But it still doesn't do the one thing it was supposed to do.
Real experts, like those at the Nielsen Norman Group, often talk about "UX theater." This is a subset of the pig-lipstick phenomenon where companies go through the motions of user research and design thinking just to justify a decision that leadership already made. It looks like a professional process. It feels like innovation. But it’s just a mask for a pre-determined, potentially flawed outcome.
Business Disasters and the Lipstick Effect
Look at the "Pivot to Video" craze that hit digital media a few years back.
Major publishers were hemorrhaging money because their written content wasn't monetizing well. Instead of fixing their relationship with readers or diversifying their revenue streams, they all collectively decided that "everyone wants video now." They fired writers, hired expensive video producers, and put a "video-first" lipstick on their dying business models.
The result? Facebook had misreported video metrics, the pivot was a disaster, and many of those outlets aren't even around anymore. The pig didn't become a swan. It just became a very expensive, very confused pig.
The Elizabeth Holmes and Theranos Lesson
We can’t talk about this without mentioning Theranos.
Elizabeth Holmes was the master of the aesthetic. The black turtlenecks (a direct lift from Steve Jobs), the deep voice, the high-profile board members like Henry Kissinger—that was the lipstick. The "pig" was a technology that simply did not work. For years, the world's most sophisticated investors looked at the lipstick and saw a unicorn.
This happens because of "social proof." If enough important people say the pig looks beautiful, you start to doubt your own eyes. You think, maybe I just don't understand fashion. ## How to Spot the Lipstick in the Wild
So, how do you tell if you’re looking at a genuine improvement or a superficial mask? It usually comes down to three things:
- The "Why" is missing. If a company changes its name or its look but can’t explain how the actual experience of using their product has changed, run.
- The "Core" remains untouched. If a restaurant has terrible service and bad food, but they spend $50,000 on a new mural and "mood lighting," that’s lipstick.
- The "Quick Fix" timeline. Real change takes time. If a decades-old problem is "solved" by a weekend rebranding workshop, you’re looking at a snout with some Red #40 on it.
When Lipstick Actually Works (Sort Of)
Is it ever okay to put lipstick on a pig?
Actually, in the world of Minimum Viable Products (MVPs), there's a school of thought that says you should polish the front-end to test a concept before building the back-end. This is sometimes called "The Wizard of Oz" technique.
You make it look like a fully automated, high-tech solution, but behind the curtain, there are humans manually doing the work. In this case, the lipstick isn't meant to deceive forever—it's meant to validate. You’re checking to see if people even like the idea of the animal before you invest in the farm.
But there’s a massive difference between a prototype and a permanent mask. One is a tool for learning; the other is a tool for deception.
The Modern Pivot: From "Lipstick" to "Authenticity"
In 2026, the "lipstick" strategy is getting harder to pull off.
Social media and instant transparency mean that if your product sucks, people will find out within hours. You can't hide behind a high-gloss ad campaign anymore. We’re seeing a shift toward "Radical Transparency." Companies like Patagonia or even smaller D2C brands are finding more success by admitting their "pigs" exist.
They say: "Hey, this part of our supply chain is messy, and we're trying to fix it."
That is the opposite of lipstick. That’s surgery. It’s painful, it’s ugly, and it’s slow, but it actually changes the nature of the beast.
Actionable Steps: De-Pigging Your Strategy
If you suspect your project, business, or personal brand is currently sporting some unnecessary cosmetics, here is how you strip it back:
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- Conduct a "Functional Audit." Strip away the branding. Remove the adjectives. Write down what your project actually does in one sentence. If that sentence doesn't provide value, no amount of design will save it.
- Ask the "Frontline" Truth. Talk to the people who use the product or do the work. They know where the pig is. They’re the ones dealing with it every day while management admires the lipstick.
- Kill the "Buzzword" Budget. If you find yourself using words like "bespoke," "disruptive," or "transformative" to describe a minor update, stop. Use plain English. If it sounds boring in plain English, it probably is boring.
- Invest in the Foundation First. Take the money you would have spent on a "rebranding" and put it into customer service, R&D, or employee training.
- Embrace the Ugly. Sometimes, showing the "pig"—the raw, unpolished reality of your work—builds more trust with an audience than a perfect, plastic facade.
The goal isn't to make the pig look pretty. The goal is to build something that doesn't need a disguise in the first place. Stop buying lipstick. Start buying better bricks.