Case studies

A shop selling hunting cameras and outdoor equipment. It sold, but in fits and starts: a good month said nothing about the next one. In 2024, before paid ads, the shop made 151,630 RON from 155 orders — real demand, but nothing that made it repeat.

• We took over paid growth end to end: ads, creative and measurement
• We positioned the Alpha camera as a cheap entry product, and bundles to grow the basket
• We moved reporting onto store revenue, not the platform number

Prospecting films moved out of the studio and into the field, with the product in use. We added the missing middle of the funnel — what the camera does, shown, not described. The offer became a repeatable format, not an ad built from scratch every time. Product comparisons are led by the person who actually uses them.

In February 2026 the conversion budget dropped by about 93%. Store revenue dropped by 67% in the same month, and orders by 69%. When the ads restarted in April, revenue climbed back by 64%. That's what separates sales that come from campaigns from the ones that would have happened anyway.

A contemporary pizzeria near Herăstrău. The goal is the booking, not delivery, and bookings are few to start with — fifteen a week, across all channels. At volumes that small, a weak ad doesn't cost a little more: it costs several times more.

• We built the booking campaigns around three occasions: confession, dialogue, hero product
• We limited carousels to one per batch — they cost 492 RON per result versus 317 RON for video
• We set a frequency cap and swapped creative before we hit it

Every batch starts from the occasion when someone thinks about the restaurant, not from the product. The pieces are filmed on location, with the people who cook, then cut short for the feed. When frequency goes past 4.5, the batch comes out and the next one goes in.

Between 56 and 888 RON per booking is a sixteen-fold difference — same account, same budget, same audience. What changes between them is the creative. That's why we produce it in-house, and why we change it often.

A network of after-school centres. The audience is parents, the goal is enrolments, and the decision is slow — nobody hands over their kid after one ad. Ads that ask for the enrolment from the first frame have nothing to win here.

• We moved the offer from direct enrolment to a free first lesson
• We built interview ads around real stories of actual students, not around benefits
• We cut everything in creator style, for feed attention

Every piece has a single idea and a single next step. The interview starts from a concrete result for a specific child and lets the parent recognise themselves in the story. The static ad picks up the same idea, for retargeting.

A parent doesn't buy a subscription from an ad, but they'll accept a free hour. The small offer moves the decision from the ad into the centre, where the teacher carries it forward.

Insurance and pensions — a category nobody searches for on their own initiative, and one everyone explains the same way: a man in a shirt, facing the camera, explaining what a policy is.

• We dropped the talking head and switched to stop-motion
• We built repeatable series, not standalone pieces
• We translated every product into a life situation, not a definition

The history of insurance was built frame by frame, with paper moved by hand — 389 frames and around a hundred hours. The rest of the series uses the same visual language, so it's recognisable from the second frame.

A subject nobody searches for needs a visual reason to make someone stop. Once the format is recognisable, every new piece starts from the attention earned by the one before it.

A coworking space in Bucharest, known more as a community than as an office. The audience the community attracted wasn't the audience renting offices.

• We split content into two roles: community, which builds followers, and space showcase, which brings visits
• We set a pace of twelve films a month
• We gave each role its own next step

Filming happens on location, in Romanian, with English subtitles burned into the frame, under a minute. Community pieces ask for a follow or a comment; space pieces point to booking a tour.

A channel that only entertains builds followers and sells nothing. One that only showcases the space doesn't attract anyone. Separating the two roles lets each piece do one thing well.

An admissions prep centre. The audience is students and their parents, and the real question isn't “what courses do you offer”, it's “what can I do with this degree”.

• We built four recurring series instead of standalone pieces
• We started from the questions students actually ask, not from the centre's offer
• We covered six subjects with the same format

Every series has a fixed formula — “How to prepare for…”, “What you can do with this degree…”, concepts explained briefly, true or false. A specialist explains one single thing, in under a minute.

It's cheaper to produce one series than ten separate ideas — and easier to follow. A student who's seen one episode knows what to expect from the next.

A founder brand, built on a person with an audience already formed. The risk here isn't visibility, it's consistency: without templates, every shoot starts from zero and the voice gets lost.

• We set four format templates she can repeat any time
• We filmed in series, not piece by piece
• We kept her voice, not a brand voice

The transformation is built on a clean reveal, where the contrast does all the explaining. Her philosophy lives in the editorial portrait. The first-person story is filmed live, direct to camera. The guide sounds like advice from a friend.

A founder brand is consumed like a relationship, not a campaign. The templates keep the pace without demanding a new idea every week.