The Only Thing That Matters Now Is TASTE

We are living in the weirdest era in the history of software.

A developer — solo, broke, sleep-deprived — can open a chat window, describe an app they've been sitting on for three years, and ship a production-ready MVP before the weekend ends.

No team. No runway. Just vibes, tokens, and a decent prompt.

This changes everything. And most people haven't fully processed how much.

Because here's the thing — when shipping becomes easy, everyone ships.

The flood gates don't open slowly. They just… open.

And when everyone ships, you get what you'd expect: an ocean of apps competing for the same shrinking attention of the same finite number of humans.

There are only so many people on this planet. Only so many hours in a day. Only so many apps someone is willing to actually install, learn, and keep.

That number is not growing at the same speed as the apps being built.

So what separates the app that does $10M ARR from the one that quietly dies at $300 MRR?

It's not the idea. Most good ideas are obvious — someone else has had them already.

It's not the tech stack. Nobody cares if you're on Next.js or Remix or whatever is trending this month.

It's TASTE.

Taste is that thing Steve Jobs had that most CEOs, most developers, most product managers — most people — simply don't.

It's not about making something pretty. It's about knowing exactly when something feels off.

It's that itch you can't ignore when the button is 2px too low. When the copy sounds like a legal disclaimer. When the onboarding makes you feel stupid instead of capable.

Most people ship and move on. People with taste ship, stare at it, and fix the thing nobody asked them to fix.

Look at any competitive category — health apps, beauty, creativity tools, finance trackers.

Go download five of them in the same category. I dare you.

You won't be able to tell me what's different about each of them. Same features. Same promises. Same 4.2-star reviews with 600 ratings.

But one of them will feel right. Immediately. Without you being able to explain why.

That's the one making the money.

Okay. Now for the uncomfortable part.

The title of this post says taste is the only thing that matters. And I mostly believe that.

But I've seen too much to say it's the complete truth.

Marketing is the other thing.

Maybe even the more important thing — and I hate saying that.

I've used products that were genuinely bad. Slow, confusing, solving problems nobody had.

And they were everywhere. Ads. Influencers. Newsletter placements. TikTok reviews. And Memes, oh yes, MEMES.

And people used them. And some of those products made real money.

Meanwhile, a beautifully crafted app with zero distribution sat at 200 downloads with a 5-star average and a founder who couldn't figure out why nobody cared.

The brutal reality: a bad product with great marketing beats a great product with no marketing.

Every time.

This isn't cynical — it's just how attention works. You can't buy something you've never heard of. You can't fall in love with an app you never downloaded.

So where does that leave us?

In a world where everyone can now build, the winners will be the ones who can do two things that have nothing to do with writing code:

1. Feel what's wrong before users can articulate it.

2. Make enough noise that the right people actually show up.

Taste without reach is a private gallery.

Reach without taste is a billboard for something nobody wants to remember.

You need both. But if you can only pick one to obsess over first —

pick taste.

Because bad marketing for a great product can always be fixed with money.

Bad taste, once it ships? That's a rebrand. And rebrands are funerals with confetti.

Build something that feels like it was made by a person who gave a damn.

Then go tell people about it, loudly and repeatedly.

That's the whole game now.


First published on Medium, 11 April 2026.

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