Chiliflower

Two spellings, one idea. In Britain the pepper is a chilli; in America it is usually a chili. The name comes with both domains, chilliflower.com and chiliflower.com, so nobody has to wonder which side of the Atlantic they are typing from.

The idea itself is a pairing that ought to clash and doesn't. Chilli means heat: Latin kitchens, a dare at the dinner table, colour that stings a little. A flower means softness and charm. Put them in one word and you have a brand that can be sweet and fierce in the same breath, which is a fair description of a good salsa dancer.

The sketches test it in two very different rooms. First, women's sportswear: crop tops and leggings in brick red, orange, marigold, rose and olive, each with a tiny embroidered chilli on the hip, and a set of washed cotton caps carrying the full emblem, two peppers either side of a white blossom. In a gym, three women stand before a wall stencilled with four words: Disciplina, Fuerza, Orgullo, México. Then night falls. The same mark, redrawn in gold with scrollwork, becomes the sign for a club and dance venue, and in red neon it hangs over a crowded floor where couples are mid-turn.

The lockup carries the word México beneath the name. It is optional. A buyer serving a Colombian, Cuban or Puerto Rican crowd, or any Latin community in any city, can set their own word there and keep everything else.