Founded by Dominika Leveau and Chim Sonne-Schmidt in 2021, textile brand Tameko feels thoroughly ‘Scandi’ in aesthetics and ethos – it’s all clean lines, a singularly restrained stance on beauty. It’s form following function.

Tameko embodies that very contemporary take on the luxury sensibility that never shouts about its status. It doesn’t need to: luxe quietly but confidently oozes from every pore of Tameko’s products, largely focusing on bed (pillowcases, sheets, throws, duvet covers); kitchen textiles (napkins, table cloths, etc.); and home, i.e. curtains and cushions.

For proud maximalists (and frequently skint proud maximalists) like me, it can be hard to see what all the fuss is about with such ruggedly minimal-looking brands: everything is plain, neutral, understated, uncompromisingly r e s t r a i n e d and eye-wateringly expensive.

It’s so, overwhelmingly tasteful: hand-dyed beiges and browns and creams and terracottas; broad, textural warps and wefts; earthy organics; craftsman-hand-wrought; smug in its rugged materiality.

The spaces Tameko is built for are the polar opposite of the kind of bedrooms – ones that likely sport a Furby, a disco ball and the sorts of flammable pink faux-satin ‘Vinted-Primark x motel honeymoon suite x 80s brothel’ bedspread sets that give you static shocks.

In short, as with all made-to-last, origin story-telling metropolitan liberal elite-baiting brands, Tameko is the antithesis of ‘tut and gubbins’. It is diametrically opposed to all that’s  ‘cheap and cheerful’ – deliberately, in part (no one said neutrals and cotton were meant to be jolly) with duvet covers sometimes setting you back over £400 (or 3545 Danish Kroner). But in the defence of those hefty price tags, unlike, say, car boot-sale faux-fur leopard print throws or sequinned cushions emblazoned with Nicolas Cage’s face, Tameko’s products are built to last (but do so best when rotated with ‘at least’ three other bed linen sets, or so its product copy advises).

Personal preference aside, there’s no denying how aesthetically pleasing and undeniably classy Tameko’s whole vibe is. You could argue that the products speak for themselves, but in the cutthroat 21st century retail landscape, we all know that reliance on blankets/curtains alone does not a successful brand make. That’s why Tameko recently brought in London-based DutchScot to revamp everything from the strategy to its visual identity, copywriting, tone of voice, print, packaging, art direction, and digital channels.

With a range like Tameko’s, it can’t be easy to strike a balance between under-designing to the point of blandly forgettable and overdoing it to the point that you overshadow the serene stars of the show – the products. But DutchScot has delivered a masterclass in wringing maximal visual tactility, storytelling, and genuine differentiation from minimalist principles.

Typography is at the heart of the design concept, drawing on a rather unusual, largely overlooked corner of the modern art landscape – typewriter art. As the name suggests, this refers to art created using a typewriter, with artists forming images through the interplay of letterforms, numerals and other characters with negative spacing. Apparently the first typewriter artist to find fame was Flora Fanny Stacey with her painstakingly anatomically accurate 1898 butterfly drawing. The medium was also famously beloved by some Bauhaus school luminaries including Josef Albers, and perhaps most recognisably is frequently used in writing (drawing?) concrete poetry.

No idea where or how DutchScot arrived at the idea of merging the much-forgotten mechanical medium with hip Danish homeware, but the whole thing works brilliantly. It feels genuinely ‘surprise and delight’: sure, you can likely take a decent stab at what Tameko’s wares might look like without any prior brand knowledge (brownish, earthy, heavy, plain) but you just couldn’t second guess this sort of typographic identity approach. Both in concept and in execution across the various Tameko touchpoints, it’s brilliantly original in idea and with a skillful execution that makes the company stand out head and shoulders from even its closest Scandi competitors.

Since the whole identity centres on the typewriter art concept, it only uses a single typeface across all applications – a bespoke version of Cast foundry’s Xanti Typewriter. It’s a great choice for a few reasons: firstly, the monospaced type family’s geometric construction is based on the logo designed in the mid-1930s for Olivetti typewriters. Secondly, that logo was designed by Swiss designer Xanti Schawinsky, an alumnus of the Bauhaus and a pioneer of what’s now known as Swiss Style (that distinctly mid-century, slick graphic modernism).

And back again we come to form following function. ‘We were asked to create a brand that complements the minimalistic nature of the collection but has depth and a personality of its own’, the studio explains, adding that the typographic identity looks to emulate the fabrics themselves. ‘Our “textiles” [words/letters] wrap around boxes, crease, fold and even tumble like fabric’, DutchScot continues.

The studio brought in copywriter Nick Asbury to work on the verbal side of the brand – a wise move, since the words themselves are so integral to not just the tone of voice, but the overarching visual brand. Words become images, and vice versa; letters become patterns; patterning leans on letterforms; pictures are built of letters and letters form words.

Its layering forms subtle complexities that make the identity both superbly simple and totally beguiling. This is undeniably brand-designers’ brand design. But it doesn’t feel exclusionary or sneering – you just have to like things that look good to ‘get it’.

If Tameko is about longevity and classic design; now, so too is its branding. Each and every element serves to echo, augment, or subtly highlight the integral properties of its products and raison d’etre: the identity is textured and fluid; modern but indebted to tradition; equal parts practical and beautiful; form emerging from function.

Reinforcing Tameko’s focus on its products’ materiality is a suite of imagery created in collaboration with photographer Irina Boersma and stylist Merete Vyff. In a nice contrast to the geometric typographic stance, the images feel slightly ethereal – they’re soft, elegant, tactile, the tiniest bit surreal in their crops and art direction.

DutchScot describes the brand as ‘graphic yet delicate’, and says it ‘sees beauty in the humble and everyday’. We’d argue that this identity doesn’t just see and reflect beauty, it actively does the legwork to seek it out from humdrum situations, then succinctly articulates it, before quietly, proudly presenting it back for us to enjoy, as if we’d spotted banality’s beautiful moments all by ourselves.

Minimal needn’t mean boring, after all: DutchScot’s creativity has flourished within the limitations of a strictly monochrome colour palette, singular concept, and single font. It feels fun, off kilter, and thoroughly watertight.

This project is a reminder that great design doesn’t need to shout – sometimes it whispers, but in a voice that won’t be ignored (even by the most devout maximalists). Great design sometimes folds or billows, but it’s never static: it moves and morphs physically and kinetically, shifts across meanings, touchpoints, cultural contexts. It breathes, it blinks, and it’s alive.