Does youth marketing require youthful creators?

A few days ago, the friends at Adlatina asked me that question, and it stayed with me—resonating like those phrases that don't bother you because of what they say, but because of what they assume. Not because the question isn't valid, but because it reveals something about how we think as an industry: we tend to imagine "the youth" as an exotic species that only someone of their own age can interpret.

But understanding someone you are not—whether they are 17 or 70—has never been a data point on an ID card. It is an exercise in emotional availability. It is to keep looking, to keep asking, to keep doubting your own certainties. What ages us isn't birthdays; it’s when we stop listening. When I was 25, I worked for audiences in their 40s and 50s, and I never felt age was a limit: studying "the other" is part of the craft. Sometimes, not matching in age is an advantage: it forces you to look differently, to take nothing for granted.

Because in the end, it’s not a matter of youth, but of something more fragile and harder to sustain: curiosity. Curiosity is a muscle: if you don’t work it, it atrophies. It’s not inherited, it can’t be bought, and it doesn't maintain itself. One day you stop listening, you stop asking, you stop looking with the discomfort of someone who doesn't yet know. And at that point, even at 25, you begin to age.

On the other hand, when you work with people of different ages, something happens that no manual can teach: someone looks at an idea from an unexpected angle, someone brings an experience you didn't know you needed, someone asks a question that disarms you. From that mix—not from "pure youth"—truth emerges. It’s not age that matters, it’s the friction: between generations, genders, and ways of being in the world.

Clients don't look for young teams. They look for relevance. And relevance doesn't answer to biology: it’s capricious, restless, a bit wild. More like desire than demographics. That’s why it can appear in someone who is 25 or 55. Relevance doesn’t ask for permission.

When I think of the people who influenced me most, I never remember their age. I remember their way of listening without feeling threatened, their ability to ask uncomfortable questions, and their way of trusting collective intelligence over their own ego.

In the end, to survive in this industry, you don't need a fountain of youth. I believe you need curiosity to avoid repeating yourself, humility to accept that you never have the full picture, the courage to go against the grain when everyone else is in line, and a tender honesty: the kind that is uncomfortable, but doesn't hurt.

Staying relevant is not an age. It is a movement. A way of continuing to look at yourself—and others—without the pretension of knowing it all.