In my previous article, I wrote about how clients speak in symptoms, not diagnoses. When I talk to a prospective client, I hear emotions, frustrations, and gut-level hunches that something isn’t quite right. Over time, I started noticing patterns—five phrases that, when decoded, reveal their development.
This framework isn’t theoretical. It’s diagnostic. And like all good diagnostics, it’s only valuable if it can be used in the real world. So let’s test it. Enter: Oita Hello Kitty Airport.
Yes, that’s a real place now!
Earlier this month, Oita Prefecture in Japan renamed its regional airport for six months in partnership with Sanrio, the company behind Hello Kitty. The stated goal? To attract international tourists who typically overlook Oita in favor of Tokyo or Kyoto. With the Osaka World Expo on the horizon and Japan experiencing record-breaking inbound tourism, the move was designed to divert overflow traffic to this quieter, lesser-known destination.
It’s a bold tactic. A loud one. And on the surface, it might seem like a good idea. But let’s pause and ask a deeper question:
What does this decision reveal about Oita Airport’s brand maturity?
Let’s start with the client quote that started it all:
“We hope to encourage more tourists, particularly those who typically visit high-traffic destinations like Tokyo and Kyoto, to travel to Oita instead.”
The Oita Airport serves mainly domestic flights and remains a bit of a hidden gem on the international front, often seen as a convenient stopover rather than a sought-after destination. From what we understand, its identity is still taking shape in the hearts of the Japanese, and it tends to be largely unrecognized by foreign travelers.
So, as it pertains to brand diagnostics, Oita Airport is an Infant brand: Not in its operations, not in its history, but in its identity.
The fifty-year-old airport works. It even has decent traffic. But it is rather unknown. Such a brand’s main strategy must address the question: “What makes us symbolically different?”
Travellers using the Oita Airport need a story, an aesthetic, a tone, and a ritual to remember once they’ve left.
So, on the surface, the Hello Kitty campaign seems to be trying to address that problem.
However, it’s a form of borrowed branding—an attempt to manufacture emotion by outsourcing identity. Hello Kitty is beloved, global, and deeply associated with Japanese “kawaii” culture. But here, she’s being used as a shortcut for what the airport itself cannot yet say.
And that’s the risk.
For a lesser-known brand to grow, it must first define who it is and how it is different than the others. Without that, the Hello Kitty airport will get talked about. But what will people remember? Hello Kitty. Not Oita. That’s the problem.
What would I have done instead?
I would have advised the Oita Airport authority to go inward before going outward. Building a brand from Oita’s own symbolic raw materials such as the hot springs, the quiet, the slowness, the seasonal rhythm of Kyushu, and the feeling of arriving somewhere restorative instead of just less crowded could have worked better in the long run.
While I understand the time-sensitive opportunity at hand, Oita Airport was better off prioritizing clarity before scale, essence before aesthetic, identity before attention.
Right now, the Oita Airport will be talked about. But please keep in mind that the Hello Kitty campaign will fade by October. The real question is: What will be left behind once the costume comes off?
If your brand is struggling with similar questions—who you are, where you are in your development, and what should come next—I’m always happy to talk.
After all, brand strategy isn’t about theory. It’s about helping people see clearly.