When the Apple falls a touch far from the tree

For a company that has built its reputation on being innovative, thinking differently and staying ahead of its competition, Apple has been remarkably late to the foldable phone.

While competitors have spent years experimenting with folding screens, Apple has largely stuck to the formula that made the iPhone such a success: refine, simplify, perfect.

In the Steve Jobs and Jony Ive era, design seemed to reign over performance. Simplification over experimentation. Function over gimmick. As an ex-Apple employee, I remember the philosophy well: “Good enough isn’t.” It was one of the key lines of our employee ethos. Everything had to earn its place, and design was rarely something that came second.

Until, perhaps, now.

Author

Category

Thunk

Posted

Length

5 minutes

iPhone Duo: Matter over design

The arrival of Apple Vision Pro a few years ago was an early sign of a potential change in direction. Apple's attempt to establish itself in spatial computing was an ambitious, expensive and arguably imperfect first generation of a completely new product category. Whether you saw it as a genuine step into Apple's next chapter or simply a company proving it could still play in the future, it represented something different from the Apple we had become accustomed to.

Now, in 2026, the launch of the iPhone Duo this October feels significant not simply because Apple has finally entered the foldable market, but because it raises an interesting question about one of Apple's most defining principles: design.

For years, Apple seemed to operate on the belief that technology should serve design. Products became thinner, simpler and more intuitive. Under Jony Ive in particular, the physical object was a huge part of the experience. The technology was almost secondary to how beautifully and naturally it fitted into our lives.

But what happens when technology starts demanding more from the design?

A foldable phone is, by definition, a compromise. It has hinges, moving parts, a crease, different proportions and a form factor that is fundamentally more complicated than the conventional slab of glass we've become accustomed to.

It asks designers to solve problems that simply didn't exist before.

And yet, that's the point.

Perhaps Apple's definition of great design has had to evolve from:

“How can we make this sleek, beautiful and inherently Apple?”

to:

“How can we make increasingly complicated technology feel simple, without staying behind?”

That feels like a significant shift.

Because Apple isn't changing simply for the sake of change. It's responding to an evolving competitive landscape and consumers who increasingly expect their devices to do more.

And this is where it gets particularly interesting from an advertising perspective. 

When what worked yesterday hurts your tomorrow

Apple has always been exceptionally good at taking technological innovation and turning it into something people actually want, often before they even know they need it.

The iPod didn't invent portable digital music. The iPhone didn't invent the touchscreen smartphone. Apple simply had an extraordinary ability to take existing or emerging technology and make it feel desirable, intuitive and, eventually, inevitable.

Could the same thing happen with foldable phones?

If history is anything to go by, Apple may not need to invent the next big thing. It just needs to make us wonder how we ever lived without it.

And perhaps that's why the change matters beyond the product itself and how we communicate it.

Apple isn't just changing the phone. It's not even changing something that doesn't already exist; Samsung, Google and others have been making foldables for years.

It could be changing our perception of what a foldable phone is, and that is something brands and advertisers should pay attention to.

Because as advertisers, creatives, we often talk about consistency as though it's the ultimate goal. Protect the brand. Protect the distinctive assets. Protect what people recognise.

But there comes a point where protecting what worked yesterday can prevent you from responding to what people want tomorrow.

And perhaps the most interesting change isn't actually the product. It's the fact that Apple can change so much while making the change feel strangely familiar.

Think about the way Apple launches an iPhone.

In October 2001, Steve Jobs introduced the original iPod, putting “1,000 songs in your pocket” and a new proposition for portable music firmly into the cultural conversation.

In September 2017, Tim Cook introduced the iPhone X at the newly opened Steve Jobs Theater, marking a major departure from the familiar iPhone design and celebrating a decade of iPhone. Almost ten years later, in September 2026, Apple's new CEO John Ternus introduced the iPhone Duo: a radically different form factor, entering a category Apple had watched competitors develop for years.

Different product. Different technology. Different competitive landscape. Different CEO.

And yet, remarkably, the ritual remains.

The keynote. The product films. The obsessive focus on the details. The carefully controlled language. The sense that what you're seeing isn't simply a new product, but a glimpse of what's next.

Ch-ch-ch-chaaaange

Evolution can happen without losing recognition. Innovation without losing identity. Change without making your audience feel like they've been left behind.

The most powerful brands don't necessarily resist change or chase it. They know how to evolve without losing the things that made people believe in them in the first place.

And if Apple can make foldable phones feel inevitable, perhaps it will prove that the most powerful form of innovation isn't inventing something new.

It's changing our expectations of what already exists.