A good design works. It ticks the boxes, solves the problem, and meets the brief. But great design? Great design leaves a mark. It doesn’t just function, it resonates. It earns trust. It creates loyalty. It makes someone feel like this product was made for them.

You know it when you feel it. Like the weight of a hotel room key card that’s just slightly heavier than you expected, enough to feel premium. Or the way your fingers naturally rest on the indentation of a PlayStation controller. Or when Apple’s haptics pulse just right under your thumb, giving you a tactile nod that something has been acknowledged.

Great design is often invisible, not because it’s minimal, but because it feels inevitable. Like of course it would work that way. Anything else would feel clumsy, bolted on, or simply off. That sensation, when design feels natural, is the result of thousands of micro-decisions that respect the user's time, attention, and intuition.

Good design gives you what you asked for.
Great design gives you what you didn’t know you needed.
Good design follows best practices.
Great design questions them.
Good design prioritises user stories.
Great design considers human stories, the emotion, the intention, the subtle moments that build trust and delight.

Take Spotify's volume slider. A good one would let you drag to set the level. But Spotify's feels more tuned, the rate of change is just right, the delay between drag and response is imperceptible, and it remembers your setting across sessions. It doesn’t just respond; it understands. It’s a tiny detail, yet it reflects a deep understanding of what a seamless audio experience should feel like. Most people won’t notice it. And that’s the point.

Great design doesn’t shout for attention. It earns it quietly. Think about Netflix’s skip intro button. It’s not flashy. It’s not animated. But it appears exactly when it should, knows when you want it, and disappears when you don’t. It respects the user’s intent without ever asking them to explain it.

In digital products, it’s the difference between a modal that appears instantly versus one that unfolds with a subtle blur and bounce. It’s the care behind a microinteraction, the spacing of a label, the delay in an animation timed to match how fast a human reads. These details don’t just make the product feel smoother, they make it feel alive. Designed by someone who cared.

Great design comes from care. Not just skill. Not just process. But someone, somewhere, giving a damn about the details. Someone who walked through every edge case, felt the friction, and chose to sand it down. Someone who didn’t stop at "does it work?", they kept going until it felt right.

It’s not louder. It’s not flashier. It’s more considered. And in that consideration, you feel something. Something human. Something intentional. That feeling is rare, and people remember it.

That’s what separates good from great.