Brimhold began as an argument about marketing. Every flask on the shelf was being sold on its finish — a new colourway each season, the same steel underneath. The thermal figure, the only thing that decides whether your coffee is still coffee at two in the afternoon, sat in six-point type on the back of the box.
So the figure went on the front. Twelve hours above 60°C with the lid closed, measured at the lid rather than in a brief, because the lid is where a vacuum flask actually fails. Twenty-four hours still iced. No plastic anywhere in the wall, which costs them a cheaper liner and a lower price point.
The catalogue is deliberately boring: three sizes, two finishes, no seasonal drops. Brimhold is betting that someone who has been let down by a lukewarm flask at eleven in the morning buys on the specification and never looks at the colour again.