The room was plain. Blank. A minimalist artwork, somewhere between John Lennon’s Imagine video and a dystopian hospital: antiseptic, bright and oh so clean. He looked equally clean. His team had decided that cut of the T-shirt and jeans and the right sort of shoes – all a blank shade now all packed into his equally plain suitcase. The other contestants were arriving. All different but all the same, plain canvases. He reached for a coffee cup and imagined the algorithms whirring, selling the cup’s real estate. Countless personalised, targeted logos. A cup of many colours. Just like his chest.