When Innovation Becomes Gimmickry

A market freed from rules, but not from lazy thinking

By Jonathan Lipson | The Cigar Profit | Schedule Exploratory Call

From Survival to Stagnation

We thought regulation was going to be the death of premium cigars. Remember that? The FDA came knocking and 75% of the industry braced for the funeral. We weren’t strategists back then, we were survivors. Some came out swinging, some played like the chains were still on and the rest of us… well, we acted like deer in the headlights, waiting to see if the government could decide what “substantial equivalence” even meant.

Innovation in the Premium Cigar Industry hasn’t disappeared - it’s hiding.

Here’s the truth: we survived. Not because we were brilliant, but because the bureaucracy collapsed under its own weight. While the rules were written in pencil and lawsuits dragged on, we kept rolling tobacco and hoping the hammer wouldn’t drop. Looking back, it wasn’t innovation that saved us, it was inertia.

And maybe that’s why today feels flat. Innovation hasn’t disappeared - it’s hiding. Too many cigars are recycled blends with fresh bands. Accessories dress up in new colors, but cut, light and store the same way they always have. Real risk-taking is rare. Some makers act like we’re still under the FDA’s thumb, afraid to move. Others chase trends and call it vision. The rest? Just rinse, repeat, repackage.

In an industry built on tradition, consumers can be forgiving. What they don’t forgive is when repetition dresses itself up as something new. That’s when the gimmicks creep in  -  humidors with a new varnish, “premiumized” old stock, another line extension  -  distractions in place of real progress.

And consumers notice. A gimmick buys one chance, maybe one sale. Real innovation earns a permanent place in the ritual: the rotation, the pocket, the living room. Everything else ends up on discount tables or shoved in drawers. Which is why this story doesn’t start with the FDA or taxation. Regulation didn’t kill innovation. It only buried its confidence. The question now is whether tradition is protection, or just a shield against risk.

Tradition vs. Risk Appetite

I’ve hidden behind tradition too. We all have. It’s safer to say “this is how it’s always been” than to admit you don’t want to take the swing. The old guard has mastered that move. Heritage becomes the shield. Vertically integrated giants wave history like a flag - but what it really covers is apathy. Same formats, same blends, same tired language. They’re not protecting history. They’re protecting themselves from risk.

The younger generation doesn’t want that armor. They want to break the mold. Some succeed - but most confuse volume with velocity. Another band, another tweaked blend, slapped on the same toro, robusto or gordo. That’s not innovation. That’s reruns dressed up as prime time.

Independents don’t get the luxury of hiding. They either push forward or disappear. And yes, some real breakthroughs have come from that lane. But let’s be honest - most of what we’ve seen is just louder boxes, flashier names or “limiteds” no one remembers once the hype dies.

Consumers don’t measure bravery by the size of a press release. They measure it by what happens when the cutter hits, when the flame touches, when the smoke rolls. If it feels the same as last year - or the last five - you didn’t innovate. You recycled. And recycling doesn’t build loyalty. It builds fatigue.

And fatigue is the cost of hiding behind tradition. It’s also the door opener for anyone willing to risk differently.

Defining Real Innovation

Let’s stop pretending a new SKU is innovation. A redrawn vista on the same box isn’t innovation either. Real innovation is when a smoker cuts, lights, draws - and realizes they’re in new territory. Not a regurgitation. Not a gimmick. Something that didn’t exist before.

Glow-in-the-dark packaging? That’s a parlor trick. A new logo icon with gold embossing? That’s just new clothes on the same old frame. Tricks like that move units once, then end up in discount bins or giveaways. Real innovation reshapes the ritual itself. It changes the draw, the burn, the flavor journey. It delivers something the smoker didn’t know they wanted until it hit their hand.

That can mean tobaccos never before used in premiums, or combinations that produce flavors the palate hasn’t learned to expect. It can mean a vitola that forces a new rhythm - changing how long the cigar smokes, how heat builds, how the smoke hangs in the mouth. And it doesn’t stop at the cigar. Packaging that actually protects freshness, travel-ready cases that matter to the guy on the move, accessories that work better instead of just looking gaudier - that’s innovation. The consumer doesn’t need another oversized cutter or an ashtray with neon paint. They need tools that enhance the moment.

Innovation solves problems the smoker feels. It doesn’t chase applause at a trade show. When the cigar evolves - or the experience around it becomes easier, clearer, more consistent - that’s when consumers lean in. That’s when loyalty forms.

And loyalty is the real scorecard. Everything else? Noise in a louder package.

The Gimmick Cycle

The gimmick cycle doesn’t start in the fields or the factories - it starts in the boardroom. A committee decides they “need” something new for PCA or the next press release. Not better. Not meaningful. Just different enough to wave around as proof of activity.

Retailers take the bait. They stock it. The media hypes it. The humidor clogs with déjà vu. And consumers - who already know the difference between novelty and substance - buy once, then never return. The gimmick gets exposed fast, and the shelf tax lingers long after the launch party.

Here’s the dirty truth: gimmicks always turn on the people who push them. Retailers stop trusting the sell sheets. Consumers stop giving the brand the benefit of the doubt. And the company that leans on gimmicks too long wakes up with a reputation problem. They’re not seen as innovative anymore. They’re seen as desperate.

The worst part? The cycle sustains itself because no one wants to show up empty-handed. But showing up with gap-fill is worse. It burns capital and conditions the market to tune you out. Once the label of “gimmick brand” sticks, everything you do afterward gets dismissed before it even lands. That’s the real cost - it doesn’t just kill a product, it kills credibility.

And once credibility dies, rebuilding it costs more than any factory run or ad campaign can buy.

Case Study: When Drops Stopped Dropping

I’ve been in this business a long time. I’ve seen brands crash, rise, reinvent and crash again. There’s no shortage of stories I could pull from. But one sticks with me - not because it was the first, and not because it’ll be the last - but because it showed how a brand built its entire ethos on a model that couldn’t sustain.

They leaned into drops like it was religion. At the start, it was electric. Retailers scrambled for allocations, consumers bragged about scoring boxes and every release felt like an event. Scarcity worked because it felt earned - nobody knew when or where the next one would land. That unpredictability rewired behavior.

But then the machine took over. Surprise turned into schedule. And the second scarcity becomes predictable, it isn’t scarcity - it’s exposure. Countdown clocks kept rolling, but the magic calcified.

Autoship sealed the fate. Retailers didn’t order - boxes just appeared. Consumers didn’t chase - shipments chased them. That’s not demand, that’s obligation. And every forced yes drained the value of yes.

The fallout wasn’t explosive, it was erosion. Each unwanted case told retailers they weren’t partners, they were storage. Each “limited” that arrived right on time told consumers exclusivity was fake. The brand that once had people sprinting became the brand they could afford to ignore.

And it didn’t happen in a vacuum. Plenty of others tried their hand at “timely” or “special” drops, unwarranted or otherwise, and every one that missed chipped away at the consumer’s belief in the model. The whole cycle dulled the edge, until what was once a market-shaping move turned into background noise.

Here’s the brutal truth: consumers stopped saying “I need it now.” They started saying “I can wait.” And in this business, “I can wait” is the most expensive sentence you’ll ever hear.

Drops began as a bet that rewired the market. They ended as a script that trained the market not to believe. Innovation turned into gimmickry the moment risk disappeared. Once it’s a script, the story’s over.

The Collaboration Craze

I’ll admit it - I’ve been on both sides of collaborations. I’ve sat in those meetings where the idea felt electric: two brands coming together to make something neither could have pulled off alone. The first time I saw it done right, it was magic. Retailers leaned in, consumers lined up and the anticipation felt earned. That was innovation because it created a spark bigger than the cigar itself.

But this industry doesn’t know when to stop. The moment one collaboration worked, everybody wanted their turn. Partnerships started getting forced. Blends were rushed to hit trade show calendars. Logos got mashed together without chemistry or story to back them up. And when the product didn’t deliver, no amount of hype could cover the cracks.

To complicate it further, a wave of “endorsed” projects started cropping up. A brand owner partners with a factory they don’t usually work with, puts the factory’s name in lights and markets it as something new. Except it isn’t. Nine times out of ten, the cigar still smokes like the brand’s own portfolio because the brief was written to hit their house profile, not the factory’s. Interesting, maybe - but innovative? Not really. It’s more “look at me and what my brand can do” than a real merging of talents. A true collaboration should leave fingerprints from both sides. Too often these endorsed releases don’t leave any at all.

Now, to be honest, sometimes these projects land. Every once in a while, the endorsement feels authentic, the cigar has its own voice and the market rewards it. But those moments are rare. More often, the play falls flat - and the customer doesn’t separate the attempt from the result. Whether it was a half-baked partnership or an endorsed project with no new DNA, the effect was the same: the shine wore off.

Consumers caught on quick. Two names on a band stopped meaning “unique.” It meant generic dressed up as special. Retailers felt it too. The first round might move, but reorders slowed to a crawl. Excitement flipped into suspicion. Instead of asking “what’s inside?” the market started asking “why should I care?”

And it didn’t stop at cigars. The craze spilled into accessories. Suddenly you had brands with $9 average price points commissioning co-branded lighters that retailed for $500. Or cutters that cost more than the box of cigars they were meant to accompany. On paper it looked like “luxury positioning.” In reality, it just looked mismatched. The consumer didn’t see synergy - they saw desperation.

Here's the kicker: when collaborations - or their watered-down cousins - don’t align, they don’t just flop, they confuse the customer. And confusion kills credibility faster than a bad review. The very word “collaboration” went from exciting to suspicious, and once that switch flips in the market’s head, even the good ones have to fight uphill to earn belief.

The truth is simple. A collaboration isn’t innovation just because the press release says so. It only works if the cigar - or the accessory - actually justifies the partnership. Without that, it’s stagecraft. And stagecraft empties humidors and clogs up retailer shelves with overpriced merchandise no one asked for.

The lesson isn’t that collaborations are dead. They still have power when they’re rare, purposeful and rooted in trust. But careless ones - and the “endorsed” projects that pretend to be collaborations - don’t just fail, they train the market not to believe you. And once belief is gone, there isn’t a co-branded cutter in the world that can buy it back.

Why Gimmickry Is Dangerous

The 80/20 rule is the operating law. Eighty percent of sales should come from core, twenty from innovation. That applies to cigars and to accessories. Core keeps the lights on and earns trust. Innovation earns the right to expand the circle. Get that order wrong and everything else starts to wobble.

Here is where cigars slip. The calendar calls, so the blend appears. Trade show pressure rises, so a line extension fills the slot. Limiteds crowd the shelf, core loses face time, velocity slows. Retailers carry the weight in cash and space. Consumers learn the pattern and wait it out. When the 20 starts steering the ship, the 80 stops doing its job.

Accessories miss in a different way. Most so-called “new” is not new at all. Same cutter, new color. Same lighter, fresh artwork. Same ashtray, different deboss. The mechanism doesn’t change, the ritual doesn’t improve, yet it’s sold as innovation. Pointing at a Pantone book isn’t product strategy, it’s an art project. It moves a few units, then teaches customers to ignore the next announcement.

The channel keeps the score. First orders may land, reorders don’t. Shelf turns stretch. Core facings lose slots to novelties that won’t earn their keep. Consumers shift from curiosity to caution. Your next release walks in with a credibility tax you created yourself.

Inside the house the cost compounds. Leaf and factory time get pulled to hit dates, not standards. Pallets of ashtrays with last year’s finish fuel MUDA. QC chases deadlines. Marketing teams spend budget dollars on graphics, not function. Leadership time goes to defending the calendar, not strengthening the core. Margins thin quietly while everyone looks busy.

This is why gimmickry is dangerous. It flips the 80/20 and rewrites your identity. The 20 is supposed to strengthen the 80, not cannibalize it. If a release can’t do that, it isn’t innovation, it’s a withdrawal from your trust account.

So ask the only question that matters before the next “new” leaves the dock: will this 20 make the 80 stronger, will it turn faster, store better, smoke better and - most importantly - create incremental sales instead of replacing dollars?

If the answer isn’t a clear ‘yes’, the next section tells you what real innovation has to look

like.

Innovation With Teeth

So ask yourself: are you innovating, or are you running sleight of hand so no one notices the cracks? Because the retailer across the counter and the consumer across the table see it faster than you think. They couldn’t care less about the press release - they judge the product the second it hits their hand.

Retailers don’t spend time thinking about how excited your marketing team is. If it doesn’t turn their shelf with more efficiency, more velocity, it’s dead weight. Consumers aren’t impressed with another fancy box if the cigar inside tastes like the last four you sold them. Nobody’s enthralled with a cutter sporting gold-plated screws if it cuts exactly like the one already in their pocket. They don’t pay attention to a lighter in a gloss finish when the flame still sputters the same. Those aren’t innovations. Those are distractions. And distractions don’t build brands - they erode them.

The trap is simple: the short game always feels smart, right up until it blows back. You dress up a trick to grab attention, and it works - for a minute. But every time you do it, you’re teaching the market that you don’t trust your own core. You’re training your customer to stop expecting substance. And once you forget the customer in that chase, they forget you twice as fast.

Innovation with teeth doesn’t scream for attention - it earns it. It shows up in a cigar that forces a new rhythm, that shifts how long the smoke lasts, how the heat builds, how the palate reacts. It shows up in packaging that protects as much as it promotes. It shows up in tools that elevate the ritual instead of dressing it up - cutters that cut better, lighters that light with precision, humidors that actually seal, not just decorate a shelf. That’s what the retailer can sell with conviction. That’s what the consumer remembers, repurchases and talks about.

The brands that last aren’t the ones juggling tricks. They’re the ones building trust. They’re the ones who say “no” to the constant demand for “new” until they have something that matters. And when they finally put it in the market, it sticks - because it solves a problem, improves the experience and grows out of a core the market already believes in.

That’s innovation with teeth. Everything else is just camouflage. And camouflage doesn’t hold shelf space - it blends into the abyss.

The Balanced Litmus Test

Here’s the filter. Forget the hype. Forget the headline. Ask yourself one question: does this make cigars easier to buy, easier to sell, easier to store or more enjoyable to smoke? The same light falls on accessories too. A cutter with an additional silkscreen that cuts no better than the last one isn’t progress - it’s a disguise. A lighter sporting a matte finish on the same chassis that sparks the same flame isn’t advancement - it’s a costume. A bulkier humidor that doesn’t preserve better isn’t a breakthrough - it’s furniture. If it doesn’t improve the experience for the retailer selling it or the consumer using it, it’s not innovation - it’s a trick.

And tricks always turn. Retailers don’t want deadweight clogging their shelves. Consumers don’t want another gadget for the drawer. What they want - what they’ll reward - is product that earns its place in the ritual. Innovation that serves them builds trust. Gimmicks that serve only you burn it down.

So here’s the call: stop chasing the short game. Stop masking a weak core with “premium” packaging and shinier drops. Build from your anchor. Deliver products retailers want to stock and consumers want to repeat. That’s how you get remembered. That’s how you hold ground in a crowded market.

Because innovation isn’t about proving you’re busy - it’s about proving you’re necessary. That’s where The Cigar Profit comes in: to help makers, retailers and builders cut through the noise, find the leverage and win the long game. If you’re ready to stop pulling tricks and start building trust, let’s talk. Schedule an exploratory call today.