Vermont's logo looks like it was made in five seconds... so why do I love it? My first reaction to Vermont's new tourism wordmark by DNCO was suspicion. Initially, this loose, looping scrawl looked like something I could have knocked out on a napkin while waiting for my coffee. Not the output of a nine-month process involving a global place branding agency.

Admittedly – as fellow Creative Bloq writer Joe Foley pointed out in his news story – on closer inspection, the letterforms carry real intent. A winding road in the 'e', mountain peaks in the 'm', a moon over the hills in the 'o'. Yet even once I'd clocked all that, I still couldn't shake the feeling that it all looked like it had been dashed off in the time it takes to sip of coffee.

However, over the last few days, I've kept coming back to it. And I've grown to, at first, like it and now absolutely love it. Why the turnaround? Well I think it's made me reflect on what tourism branding is supposed to do to us.

Most state and city logos aim for polish: crisp vector shapes, confident symmetry, the visual equivalent of a firm handshake. Vermont's does the opposite. It wobbles. The baseline dips and rises like it's been drawn by someone leaning on a fence post. And once I'd looked at it a few times, that started to work its magic on me.

There's a reason hand-lettered signage works on roadside farm stands. It signals that a human being made this, because they had something to sell you, and no time to overthink it. Vermont's logo borrows that shorthand wholesale. It's not trying to look considered. It's trying to look like it came from someone who cares more about the maple syrup than the kerning.