In Lee, the film about photographer Lee Miller, one scene stops you cold. She bathes in Hitler’s abandoned apartment. But just before that, the camera lingers on a silver tray—engraved with Hitler’s initials and the eagle emblem.

That detail hit us. In our world—promotional branding—it’s clear how even the smallest item can whisper power. Take a cup from that tray and you’re reminded, subtly but relentlessly, who rules. Swap out the emblem for a Fortune 500 logo, and the same tray could sit in a boardroom, reinforcing a different kind of authority. The object doesn’t change. The message does.

Miller later used that very tray at her post-war dinner parties. Drinks and hors d’oeuvres served on what was once a symbol of tyranny. Repurposing it was an act of defiance—a way to strip the object of its original meaning. Boy London echoed this decades later, turning stark iconography into a badge of rebellion, a fearless fashion statement.

That’s the power of branding. When pushed to the extreme, it becomes promoganda—promotion fused with propaganda.