Most studios will tell you they’re different. Then they open Framer and drag the same pre-built section kit onto the canvas, swap the stock photos, and call it custom. Spare us.

We’re the ones who still prototype interactions at 60 fps until the cursor feels like an extension of thought. The ones who argue for forty-five minutes about whether a hover lift should be 8 px or 12 px at different breakpoints. The ones who would rather delay a launch than ship a variant that feels like every other Framer site in the wild. That’s the difference. Not a template marketplace badge. Just pathology.

Taste Isn’t Subjective Here

Half the Framer Community feed looks like the same glassmorphic cards floating over grainy gradients with a compulsory smooth-scroll component. Groundbreaking.

We judge work the way watchmakers judge balance wheels: by how cleanly it runs under real pressure. A landing page that converts 46% better than the old site isn’t beautiful because it has tasteful negative space. It’s beautiful because it quietly prints money. The aesthetics are just evidence we read the room.

Last month we shipped a configurator for a high-end audio brand. The brief was “make it feel premium.” Most studios would have layered on VHS noise overlays and bloom effects until the GPU begged for mercy. We used dead-simple stacked sections, surgically precise scroll triggers, and a custom cursor that only appears when you’re within 100 px of something interactive. Sales jumped 2.3× in the first month. Turns out premium feels like confidence, not lens flare.

Strategy That Doesn’t Hide Behind “Discovery Workshops”

We still do the research—heatmaps, session recordings, interviews with the actual customers—but we don’t package it into a 120-slide presentation nobody reads. The deliverable is a Framer file where the strategy is already baked into the structure: which sections load first on 3G, where the CTA lives on mobile, why the pricing table is deliberately ugly if it converts better. No separate deck required.

On a fintech dashboard we finished last quarter, everyone was fixated on making the onboarding “fun.” We discovered users were dropping off because the document upload felt like 2012. We built a drag-and-drop zone with live OCR feedback and a progress ring that actually matches the bank’s brand colors. Completion rate went from 41% to 89%. Nobody in the initial workshop mentioned uploads. That’s what real strategy looks like—finding the silent killer and murdering it before anyone notices.

We Treat Framer Like Code, Not Canva

Most agencies treat Framer like a faster way to make mockups. We treat it like a production environment that just happens to have a visual editor. Custom React components when the built-in constraints start lying to us. Code overrides that live in component properties instead of scattered across the project. Proper CMS collections that don’t collapse when you have more than fifty entries.

A recent e-commerce relaunch: the previous studio had delivered a Framer site pulling 180 MB of unused Lottie files because “they looked cool in the prototype.” We rebuilt it with native Framer animations, smart preloading, and a custom cart that updates without jumping layout. Lighthouse 100 across the board, load under one second on 4G, and the client’s head of growth stopped threatening to move to Shopify. Small victories.

Dead Trends We Happily Bury

Glassmorphism in 2025—still. Forced horizontal scrolling sections that make everyone swipe the wrong way on mobile. AI-generated “hand-drawn” squiggles that all look like they were sketched by the same nervous robot. Chat widgets that greet you with “Hey there 👋” and then immediately fail to understand anything.

We’ve walked away from five-figure projects because the moodboard was essentially “make it look like the competitor but in Framer.” We already have weekends, thanks.

The Boring Parts That Actually Matter

Performance budgets enforced like tax law. Proper heading hierarchy because screen readers exist and lawsuits are expensive. Breakpoints that reflect real devices, not just “mobile / desktop” toggle switches. Variant discipline so the next designer doesn’t inherit 47 versions of the same button.

These aren’t sexy. They’re the reason the site doesn’t implode when you finally run real traffic instead of Dribbble likes.

Clients Who Stay for Years, Not Projects

We still host and iterate sites we launched in early Framer Motion days. Not because anyone’s locked in—because every quarter the data shows the damn thing still converts, still loads instantly, and the next agency’s pitch still looks like a 2024 template with darker colors.

One SaaS company has come back to us four times in six years. Each time the product outgrew the old architecture and they knew we’d treat the migration like rewriting the constitution, not slapping a new coat of paint.

The Kind of Projects We Turn Down (And the Ones We Chase)

We’ll pass on another seed-stage startup that needs to look like Arc tomorrow and will pivot to crypto in nine months. We’ll fight for the third-generation manufacturing business that’s quietly dominant in its niche and finally wants a digital presence that doesn’t embarrass the founder.

Try making spec sheets for industrial pumps feel intuitive. Then come talk to us about craft.

So Yeah, We’re Better

Not because we have the most components in the store. Because every morning the team opens Framer files and still cares whether an easing curve feels eager or polite. Because we measure success in revenue, retention, and the quiet knowledge that something we shipped is still fast, still elegant, still converting years later.

If that kind of quiet obsession sounds like what you’ve been missing, let’s talk. We’re not hard to reach. We’re the ones still adjusting scroll-snap thresholds at midnight because they weren’t quite perfect.