Anita helps parents screen nannies and babysitters through a CareFit Report™ — an assessment of caregiving style, experience, and fit. That puts it in the same trust-critical territory as healthcare and childcare products: the person landing on this page isn't comparison-shopping software features, they're making a decision about who takes care of their child. Get the tone wrong and the product feels like a background-check tool. Get it right, and it feels like a second opinion from someone who understands what's actually at stake.

That's the problem a landing page in this space actually has to solve — and it's a different problem than most SaaS or marketplace landing pages are built to solve.

Most products adjacent to this space, background-check platforms, marketplace review tools, default to the visual language of evaluation: dashboards, scorecards, red/green pass indicators. That language is efficient, but it's the wrong emotional register here. Nobody wants to feel like they're running a background check on someone who might be alone with their child for eight hours a day.

The real design problem wasn't "how do we present an assessment clearly." It was "how do we present rigor without the aesthetics of interrogation." That distinction shaped every decision on this page, from how information is sequenced, to how much visual weight is given to data versus narrative, to a hard rule I carried through the entire design: no scores, no pass/fail indicators, no clinical framing, anywhere in the interface. This is the same instinct that governs good healthcare UX, earn trust through clarity and restraint, not through the appearance of authority.

I explored three distinct structural directions in Figma before committing to one — not three color variations of the same layout, but three genuinely different approaches to alignment, visual decoration, and section pacing. Testing structure first, before applying any polish, meant the client was choosing a foundation, not a mood board.

Before any screen was finalized, I built the shared design system first: color, typography (Fraunces for display, Lexend for body), and a full mapping of the design tokens to the client's actual Tailwind/Next.js implementation. This is a step a lot of designers skip, and it's the reason handoffs to engineering usually generate rework — spacing values that don't map cleanly, type scales that need "adjusting" once in code. Here, design and engineering were working from the same source of truth from day one, which meant zero translation loss going into development.

The hero illustration was treated with the same care as the copy: a custom flat line-art piece built around a "Meeting Point" concept — parent and caregiver rendered with equal visual weight, converging around the child — reinforcing partnership rather than evaluation, visually, before a single word of copy is read.

UI design for the landing page is complete, with development now underway in Next.js. What this project demonstrates is the ability to take a product in a genuinely sensitive category and translate its emotional stakes into concrete design decisions — not just "make it feel trustworthy," but specific, defensible choices about layout, hierarchy, and system architecture that hold up under real user emotion and real engineering constraints