

Protecting a brand’s identity is more than slapping a logo on a product. When trademark due diligence is overlooked, the consequences can be steep—both financially and reputationally. In this blog, we dive into some real‐world examples of trademark blunders and the hard‐earned lessons they teach.
In the 1970s, Beatles’ label Apple Corps sued Apple Computer for using the “Apple” name. Early settlements in 1981 and 1991 tried to carve out distinct fields—music versus computing—but the lines soon blurred when Apple launched the iTunes Store in 2003.
By 2006, a UK court awarded Apple Corps £1 (about $2 USD) plus legal costs, which escalated to roughly $13 million in fees. The conflict ended only when both sides agreed in 2007 to drop all disputes and define clear rights for each brand.
When Burger King decided to expand into Australia back in 1971, the fast-food giant faced an unexpected roadblock. The name “Burger King” was already trademarked by a small local takeaway joint in Adelaide. Without the ability to use its global brand name, the U.S. company had to get creative.
Enter Hungry Jack’s. The Australian franchisee, Jack Cowin of Competitive Foods, rebranded the chain under this new identity—a name that would eventually become a household staple Down Under.
For decades, Hungry Jack’s thrived. But by the 1990s, Burger King’s U.S. headquarters wanted to reclaim its original name and began opening restaurants in Australia under the Burger King banner. This sparked a messy corporate and legal conflict between Burger King and Cowin’s Competitive Foods.
The dispute came to a head in 2001, when an Australian court ruled that Burger King had breached its franchise agreement. The judgment allowed Hungry Jack’s to continue holding exclusive rights, effectively blocking the American parent company from rebranding its Australian operations.
Today, if you order a Whopper in Sydney or Melbourne, you’ll be doing it at Hungry Jack’s—a reminder that trademarks aren’t just legal technicalities. They can shape the very identity of a brand in an entire market.
Few brands have cultivated as strong an image as Harley-Davidson. For decades, the motorcycle manufacturer embraced the rugged, free-spirited culture of riders who lovingly referred to their bikes as “hogs.” The term became so deeply tied to the brand that Harley even leaned into it, sponsoring the Harley Owners Group (H.O.G.), a community of enthusiasts that helped build loyalty worldwide.
But Harley wanted more than just cultural association—it wanted exclusive legal control. In the 1980s and 1990s, the company sought to trademark the word “Hog” for use on motorcycles and related merchandise. The idea was simple: if Harley owned the mark, no one else could profit from selling motorcycles or gear under the same term.
Unfortunately for Harley, the trademark application ran into a fundamental issue: genericness. Over time, “hog” had entered common language as a generic term for large, heavy motorcycles—used by fans, the press, and even competitors. By the time Harley tried to lock it down legally, the word no longer pointed uniquely to the Harley-Davidson brand.
In 1999, a U.S. appeals board ruled against Harley-Davidson. The panel determined that “Hog” had become generic and could not be monopolised by one company. The ruling was a blow to Harley’s IP ambitions, stripping the brand of control over one of its most recognisable cultural associations.
The consequences went beyond legal fees. Harley had to watch as countless third parties—merchandisers, event organisers, and rival brands—continued using “hog” without restriction. While Harley still benefits from its H.O.G. community, it missed the chance to own and monetise a word that organically built much of its mystique.
When it comes to brand recognition, few names are as globally powerful as Starbucks. The coffee giant has built an empire around its distinctive name, green siren logo, and ubiquitous café presence. But with such reach comes constant vigilance—Starbucks aggressively polices its marks to prevent dilution or imitation.
In the early 2000s, Starbucks set its sights on a small New Hampshire coffee roaster, Black Bear Micro Roastery, which sold a blend under the name “Charbucks.” The choice of name was meant as tongue-in-cheek commentary, poking fun at the common perception that Starbucks coffee is over-roasted, or “charred.”
Starbucks, however, didn’t see the humor. The company sued, arguing that Charbucks would tarnish its reputation and cause consumer confusion. The case dragged on for years through multiple rounds of litigation. But in the end, the courts sided with Black Bear: Charbucks was deemed a parody and not likely to confuse consumers into thinking the product was affiliated with Starbucks.
The result? Starbucks walked away with no damages, substantial legal bills, and criticism for coming across as a corporate bully targeting a small roaster. While the company is still seen as a brand-protection powerhouse, this case became a reminder that not every fight is worth pursuing.
Trademarks don’t just protect logos—they protect the distinctiveness of names, even down to a single letter. This lesson hit home for PepsiCo, one of the world’s biggest beverage companies.
In the 1930s, Pepsi attempted to market a product under the name “Peppsi.” At first glance, it might have seemed like a clever brand variation. But the similarity to Pepsi-Cola was too close for comfort—especially in an era where brand confusion could directly sway consumer loyalty.
The resemblance caused confusion among customers, regulators, and distributors. Ultimately, Pepsi had to abandon the Peppsi experiment before it grew into a bigger problem. Though not a billion-dollar mistake, it became a cautionary tale of how even slight deviations in branding can weaken a company’s identity and open the door to disputes.
This principle continues to shape trademark law today. Courts consistently look at “likelihood of confusion”—whether an ordinary consumer might mistakenly believe two marks come from the same source. In Pepsi’s case, being only “one letter off” blurred the line too much, and the company wisely cut its losses.
Can you trademark the shape of a chocolate bar? That was the question at the heart of a long-running battle between confectionery rivals Nestlé and Cadbury.
Nestlé attempted to register the four-finger shape of its iconic KitKat bar as a trademark in the United Kingdom, arguing that the design was distinctive enough to serve as a brand identifier. If successful, this would have given Nestlé an edge in protecting one of its most recognizable products from copycats.
Cadbury, however, fought back. They argued that the shape was not unique to Nestlé and that consumers associated KitKats more with their red packaging and brand name than with the bar’s physical form. After years of litigation, the courts agreed with Cadbury: the shape was considered functional rather than distinctive, and therefore could not qualify for trademark protection.
The decision was a setback for Nestlé, which hoped to extend its monopoly beyond traditional branding and into product design. For Cadbury, it was a sweet victory—ensuring competitors could continue producing chocolate bars with similar shapes.
Sometimes, even three little letters can spark a global legal battle. That’s exactly what happened when the World Wildlife Fund and the World Wrestling Federation both laid claim to the acronym WWF.
The World Wildlife Fund, founded in 1961, had long used the WWF initials alongside its famous panda logo to promote conservation efforts. Meanwhile, the World Wrestling Federation, which adopted the WWF name in the late 1970s, rose to international fame with superstars like Hulk Hogan, The Rock, and “Stone Cold” Steve Austin.
As wrestling’s popularity exploded in the 1990s, the overlap became a serious problem. The World Wildlife Fund argued that the wrestling promotion’s aggressive marketing and global reach created confusion and diluted their established brand. After years of disputes, a legal settlement limited the wrestling company’s use of “WWF.” But when violations of the agreement continued, the courts stepped in.
In 2002, a court order forced the wrestling federation to officially rebrand as World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE). The abrupt change was a marketing headache—requiring new logos, merchandise redesigns, and fan re-education. Yet WWE ultimately embraced the new identity, even turning the situation into a slogan: “Get the F Out.”
A misstep in trademark strategy can cost more than money—it can erode brand trust. By learning from these cautionary tales, businesses can build robust trademark portfolios that stand the test of time.