You give someone a branded mugs on it. It seems like a simple thing. A sign of affection. A throw-in. But then you see it weeks later. On a desk. In the kitchen. In the hands of someone who forgot your name yet still drinks from your cup. That’s not good luck. That’s branding that will last.

It doesn’t need fireworks. No need for a hashtag. It merely needs to feel good in your hand. To be able to live through the dishwashing. So it doesn’t appear like it was printed with an inkjet that was running out of ink.

I gave one to a guy at a trade show. He didn’t ask any questions. Did not get a brochure. I just took the mug and left. He emailed three months later. “He kept using the cup,” he said. “I thought I should finally look at your site.” That’s not a coincidence. That’s exposure every day. Not a word. Unstoppable.

Quality of printing? Very big. You lost if the logo appears like a ghost. People pay attention. They don’t say it. But they can feel it. Like a poor haircut. It’s there. It’s not right.

Choose high resolution. Sharp lines. The ink bonded into the surface instead of sitting on top like dust. Printing by sublimation. Glaze that can withstand high temperatures. The kind that makes fun of dishwashers. Let’s be honest: no one washes swag by hand unless they want to show it off.

The difference in color is what matters. Navy on black? Not visible. Like a ninja. Use white on dark. Red on cream. Make it stand out. Make it easy to read when someone is half asleep and squinting at 7:03 a.m.

Weight? 11 ounces. The sweet spot. Works with most coffee makers. Doesn’t spill. It doesn’t feel like you’re carrying soup. More isn’t better. It’s awkward.

What shape is the handle? Don’t look away from it. One I got last year had a handle that looked like a bent paperclip. It hurts your fingers. I used it once. It now holds pens. That’s too bad. A good handling feels right. Like a strong handshake. Not a bone breaker.

One company made mugs with their logo and a false “Battery Level” gauge on the side. 20% means “I need coffee.” 100% means “May start a cult.” People really liked it. Took pictures. Gave it to others. The sign? Little. Clean. In the corner. There was no need to yell.

Durability is important. It’s gone if it chips after two drops. People want things that last. Something that doesn’t feel weak. Something that clinks with certainty.

I observed a woman at a train station with a mug from a company that went out of business in 2020. “I don’t even know if they are real,” she remarked. “But this cup? Just right. The business is gone. The mug is still operating.

Funny is better than formal. “This could be tea.” Don’t make any assumptions. “I’m not fighting. I’m just telling you why I’m right. Put your brand on it—subtle and clean—and all of a sudden, it’s not swag. It’s character.

These things are safe with people. They gently put them in boxes. They take them to cottages. One person sent his branded mug to his sister who lives in another country. “Don’t trust mugs from other countries,” he advised.

Your ad goes away in a few seconds. Your post on social media glides away. But a cup? It stays. Sips with them. Gets them up. Lasts longer than half of their partnerships.

That’s not advertising. That’s daily infiltration. Be quiet. Unforgiving. True.