The Blueberry Problem: Why Most Objects Don't Deserve Your Pocket

A blueberry is a perfect object.

The size is exactly right for what it does. The skin is exactly thick enough. The flavour is concentrated because there's no wasted volume. Nothing about a blueberry is accidental — it arrived at its current form through a long process of refinement that had nothing to do with aesthetics and produced something aesthetically perfect anyway.

This is what good design looks like. Not decoration. Rightness.

Most objects fail the blueberry test

Pick up something from your desk or your pocket and ask: is anything here unnecessary?

Usually, yes. A handle slightly too long. A feature nobody uses. A size that serves manufacturing convenience more than the person using it. Most objects carry a little extra — extra length, extra mechanism, extra complexity — that wasn't strictly required.

It's not always noticeable. But it's there. And over time, in the objects you reach for most, it starts to matter.

The discipline of under 17

Carry Zuko's first rule — under 17cm — is a design discipline before it's anything else.

It means: if it doesn't need to be there, it isn't. The blade length serves the function. The handle serves the blade. The overall proportion serves the carry. Nothing is added because it looks impressive or signals quality — everything earns its presence.

This kind of restraint is harder than it sounds. The instinct in product design is to add. More length, more features, more options. Removing things requires conviction.

No folding: commitment to simplicity

The second rule removes a category of complexity entirely. No pivot. No mechanism. No parts that move when they shouldn't.

Simple objects are honest objects. When something is reduced to its essentials, there's nowhere to hide. The design either works or it doesn't. The proportions are right or they aren't.

Carry Zuko chose that harder standard.

Built with soul: what care looks like

The third rule is the one that can't be measured.

Soul is what's left when you remove everything that was done for cost or convenience or trend. It's the finish that was chosen because it ages well, not because it photographs well. It's the geometry that fits a hand, not a render. It's the weight that feels right at six months, not just day one.

You recognise it the same way you recognise a good blueberry. Not by analysis. By feel.

Objects worth carrying

Not everything needs to be perfect. Most things shouldn't try to be.

But the small objects that live closest to you — in your pocket, on your desk, in your hand every morning — those are worth choosing with care.

Under 17. No folding. Built with soul.