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Tuesday · Session 10

In Zero Gravity

Entering a category before it has conventions.

Indies @ Cannes 2026 · Cannes, France
In Zero Gravity Watch the session

The setup

Every few years a category shows up with no conventions attached to it. No benchmarks. No rate card. No agreed definition of what good work looks like, and no case studies to point a nervous client toward. Social had that window. Influencer had it. Retail media had it. In each case the same thing happened: independents watched from the edge until the category grew a playbook, and by the time the playbook existed, someone else had set the pricing and owned the relationships.

Commercial spaceflight is in that window now. Tickets are being sold to stations that have not launched. A performing arts company is training on parabolic flights — aircraft that fly repeated arcs, each arc buying 20 to 30 seconds of weightlessness — so it can stage work in orbit. Brands are circling, and most of what they have done so far is send a product up and film it.

This session was the clearest look all week at what it feels like to sell into a category that has no shape yet. Two people who are doing it described the entry price, the partner structures they invented because none existed, and the part they cannot answer.

For an agency principal who will never touch a space brand, that is the whole value. The category is a case study. The problem is one you will meet again.

Who was on stage, and why they're worth listening to

Kyle O'Brien Moderator
Editorial Director + Partner, Indie Agency News
Moderating, and pushing harder than the topic invites. His central question was whether any of this is a repeatable platform or a purchase of a fleeting moment.
Ugo Bonnet
CEO, Spaceflight Institute
A training and research company built around human spaceflight. He is the supply side of this conversation. His organization exists on a bet that the next decade needs a much wider population of trained people in orbit than the astronaut corps can supply, and he can name the industries, the stations, the dates, and the cost curve behind that bet. He is also the only person in the session who talks about the physical reality of the product.
Florencia Franceschetti
Managing Director, TogetherWith
Miami office, leading communications and partnerships for Paraboles, described on stage as the first performance imagined and created for microgravity. Her background is PR and media tours, which turns out to be the most useful qualification in the room. She is the one being asked for a price, and the one who has to explain a category to a prospect before she can sell anything inside it.

Part One — Selling a category before you sell the work

Florencia's first job in any conversation is not persuasion. It is orientation. She said so plainly when Kyle asked how she protects the integrity of the ecosystem while inviting partners into it.

"It's been challenging as an agency, because first we need to explain what's going on. And you'll be surprised, there are many, many companies that have interest in space."

That gap between broad interest and zero literacy is the shape of every pre-convention category. Demand exists. Vocabulary does not. Her illustration was a conversation with another agency that had already worked in the sector without recognizing it as a sector.

"I asked, have you guys done anything in the space industry? They're like, oh, we sent a delivery to space."

One-offs, in other words. A stunt, filed and forgotten, with no second act designed into it. That is what a category looks like before it has conventions: activity without accumulation.

Ugo's contribution is the reason the category is about to acquire conventions whether the creative industry participates or not. The International Space Station is being retired and replaced by commercial stations, and he named them: Vast, Axiom, Starlab, among others. Government agencies are shifting their attention outward. What is left behind in low Earth orbit is commercial capacity, and commercial capacity needs customers.

He put a number on how many.

"It's exactly seventy-four industries that have been identified as potential users who could benefit from the commercial space stations. Within these industries you have the scientific ones, pharma, biotech, advanced materials, and so on. But also a lot of others such as marketing, media, creative industry."

74 is the sort of figure that sounds like inventory because it is. It is a list of categories somebody has already segmented, which means someone is already building a sales process against it. Marketing and media appear on that list. They are not the reason the stations are being built, and they are on the list anyway.

Ugo's second point is the one that determines whether any of this arrives on schedule, and it is a cost argument rather than a technology argument. He credits Falcon 9 with cutting the price of reaching orbit by a factor of 10, and expects Starship to cut it by another 10. His arithmetic across the two: a hundredfold reduction inside 20 years.

That curve is why he refuses to let the room treat orbit as distant.

"Today space can be seen as way too much far away, because when you think about it, it's only like 400 kilometres. So the space station is really near from here."

He made the comparison sharper for the audience in front of him: from Cannes, most of the United States is farther away than the space station is. The distance problem is a familiarity problem wearing a costume.

Part Two — Pricing access to something scarce

Kyle asked the question most moderators skip, and asked it twice.

"So what's the price of entry? I mean, you got to be specific."

Florencia answered without hedging.

"It's obviously over six figures to start. But there are many ways that we're looking for partners, because it cannot only be a monetary partner. It can also be a cultural partner or a resource."

Read that structure carefully, because it is transferable to any scarce-access proposition an independent agency might own: a proprietary event, a research panel, a first-look relationship, a physical space. She has three currencies, not one. Cash. Cultural credibility. And in-kind resource, which in her case includes the company that operates the flights sponsoring the flights themselves.

The named cultural partners she cited include a microgravity research center carrying Stephen Hawking's name, a Miami art-house cinema, and an academic space initiative. Those partners are not paying six figures. They are supplying legitimacy, which in a category with no conventions is the scarcer commodity.

The commercial partnerships split into two types in her telling. One is functional: equipment that has never been tested in the absence of gravity, and companies that want to know how it behaves.

"It's a great opportunity to sell equipment. We have partnerships with camera companies, and there are many commercial industries that are trying, garments and makeup. Makeup acts very differently in microgravity."

The other type is where she draws her line, and the line is a refusal of the easiest money in the category.

"It's not that we are a billboard. We just do product placements, and that's it. That's not the approach we're taking. We're taking long-lasting cultural creation projects from a narrative standpoint, and those take more time. That's the truth, but those are the most meaningful for us."

"Those take more time. That's the truth." That admission is the most agency-relevant sentence in the session. She is telling a room of people who sell on timelines that her model is slower than the alternative and that she will not pretend otherwise. Every independent with a premium proposition has to make that trade in front of a client at some point, and most of them soften it. She did not.

She also opened the door wider than the category usually allows.

"We're looking also to open the conversation to other agencies that maybe have clients that would be interested in exploring the space of space, and together work on something to bring to the table."

In a mature category that would be poaching risk. In a pre-convention category it is how the convention gets built, because nobody has enough demand yet to be territorial about it.

There is a concrete number attached to all of this. Florencia said Paraboles is chartering parabolic flights, with a flight in November, and that seats start around $100,000, training included. That is the current entry point to the physical experience, and it is roughly the same order of magnitude as the partnership floor. Ugo's ladder above it runs: parabolic flight, then suborbital flights from Blue Origin or Virgin Galactic offering about four minutes of weightlessness, then commercial space stations. He put the first station operational in 2027, with private activity opening around 2029 or 2030.

Ugo was the only person in the room willing to describe what the top of that ladder does to a body, and he did it while arguing for the training his own company sells.

"You will be sick for the first four or five days. And if you go there for a week and you are sick for five days, you will not enjoy it, and you will not have anything to tell to your friends."

The commercial point underneath that transfers to any category nobody has mapped yet. What a client is buying is the story afterward, and the thing standing between the money and the story is a preparation cost nobody has put in the budget.

Which means a brand committing today is buying a three-to-five-year option, not a campaign.

The uncomfortable truth

Two people in that room pushed on the same nerve, and neither got a satisfying answer.

Kyle asked what question an agency or brand leader should take back to their innovation pipeline to know whether they are building a permanent, repeatable platform or buying a fleeting moment, and framed it around the risk of looking gimmicky. An audience member came at it from the other side, asking whether commercialization would push the category toward trend-jacking rather than creativity.

Florencia's answer to both was brand fit.

"Do you want to just jump on something that is trendy right now for a one-off thing, or is it something that you can really align with as a brand? If it's a brand that's more into adventure and pushing limits and aspirations, then that's the kind of brand and consumer that will make sense to partner with on this project."

That is a sound answer and it is not a measurement. Archetype alignment tells you whether a client should be interested. It does not tell you what the six figures returns, because there is no benchmark to return against. In a category with 74 identified industries and one launched station, nobody can hand you a comparable.

The most honest version of the ROI argument came from Ugo, and it is structural rather than financial. Under the old arrangement, a project got one flight, maybe two, at enormous cost, which made return on investment close to impossible to demonstrate even for science. Commercial stations change the frequency. A project can fly repeatedly. Repetition is what makes measurement possible at all.

So the uncomfortable truth for an agency reading this is not that space is speculative. It is the sequence. Repeatability is the thing that would justify the spend, and repeatability arrives in 2029 or 2030, while the invoice arrives now. Any principal recommending this to a client is recommending they buy in during the window where the price is lowest and the proof is absent, and those are the same window by definition. That is the actual trade in every emerging category, stated more plainly here than it usually is because the timelines are measured in years and printed on rockets.

The second uncomfortable item is quieter. Florencia's partner list includes the operator of the flights as a sponsor of the flights. That is standard practice for a category being built rather than served, and it is worth naming: in a pre-convention market, your supply chain and your sponsor base are frequently the same people, and the independence of your proposition is something you have to actively maintain rather than assume.

What you can use

Pick one category with no conventions yet and write down its entry price. Not space, unless space is yours. Whatever it is in your market. If you cannot name a number, you are not close enough to it to have an opinion, and the number will be set by whoever is. Then decide, as a leadership team, whether you are willing to buy in during the window where the price is low and the proof is absent, because those are the same window. If the answer is no, take emerging categories out of the growth plan.
Build a three-currency partner structure for your scarcest asset. Cash, credibility, resource. Florencia's floor is six figures, and her partner list includes institutions paying nothing. Work out what your equivalent of a cultural partner is, and what they supply that money cannot — then ask who supplies your legitimacy, and whether you are paying them or they are paying you. When you are asked to price access to something scarce and have no comparable, name a floor and widen the currencies in the same breath:
Audit your last three innovation projects for second acts. Sending something up once and filming it is the default failure mode in every emerging category. Which of your three was designed to be repeated, and which was designed to be posted? A one-off is not a small version of a platform; it is a different product with different economics. And because repetition is what makes measurement possible at all, price the second run into the first proposal — that is the argument that moves a client from taste to arithmetic.
Say the slow part out loud in your next pitch. When a client is weighing your slower, more expensive model against the fast version, borrow Florencia's admission: "Those take more time. That's the truth." Most agencies bury the timeline cost of the better model. Naming it converts a weakness into a filter.
Write the AI answer for your own discipline in one sentence. When a client asks why a human is required when a model is cheaper, Florencia reaches for the one part of the job with no synthetic substitute: "You cannot take ChatGPT to a media tour." Her supporting example is the Artemis II astronauts, who came back to Earth and went everywhere because there was a person to put in front of an audience. Find the equivalent single physical fact about your craft that a model cannot perform, and stop making the abstract version of the argument.
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