July 2025

Great Jeans, or Great Blunder? American Eagle’s risky Business with Sydney Sweeney After watching many brands and their efforts to try to capture our attention, I’ve learned one thing: marketing is rarely boring. But every now and then, a campaign comes along that makes you spill your morning coffee. The American Eagle “Sydney Sweeney Has Great Jeans” campaign, was precisely that kind of moment. It was a whirlwind of celebrity power, clever wordplay, and, well, a whole lot of controversy. So, let’s pull back the curtain, shall we? We’ll look at what American Eagle was trying to achieve, what actually happened, and whether this was a calculated gamble that paid off, or a genuine misstep that left everyone scratching their heads. The Stage Was Set: A Brand in Need of a Buzz American Eagle, a brand synonymous with denim for generations, found itself in a bit of a bind. Heading into 2025, they reported a 5% year-over-year revenue dip in Q1, even pulling their 2025 guidance due to broader economic jitters. Not exactly a party. They needed a spark, a jolt, something to make people “reconsider and reengage” with the brand. Craig Brommers, American Eagle’s Chief Marketing Officer, saw the back-to-school season as their “Super Bowl”. This wasn’t just about selling jeans; it was about re-establishing American Eagle as the denim destination for Gen Z, a generation that, let’s be honest, doesn’t just buy clothes, they buy into values and experiences. The goal? To “cut through in culture”. And boy, did they cut through. Their big idea? Go all-in on one celebrity. A bold move, considering their past campaigns featured a roster of stars. But for Brommers, Sydney Sweeney was “the biggest get in the history of our brand”. Why Sweeney? She’s a rare talent, able to be “the face of a dual-gender brand” , sitting right “at the intersection of fashion, fame and digital culture”. She was, in his words, “that sweet spot”, not too young, not too mature. She even designed her own “Sydney Jean” with a butterfly motif, with proceeds going to Crisis Text Line, a mental health support service. A nice touch, right? A little bit of good karma mixed in with the marketing. The Campaign: A Masterclass in Modern Reach American Eagle didn’t just dip a toe in the water; they cannonballed. They unleashed a multi-channel blitz that was, frankly, impressive: The whole idea was to make it feel “personal”. Sweeney’s long-time stylist, Molly Dickson, curated the denim looks. Sweeney herself had even organically mentioned American Eagle in other campaigns, adding a layer of authenticity. It was all about her “girl next door charm and main character energy, paired with her ability to not take herself too seriously”. So far, so good, right? A big star, a massive media spend, and a cause marketing tie-in. What could possibly go wrong? The Firestorm: When “Cheeky” Becomes “Controversial” Ah, the best-laid plans. The campaign’s tagline, “Sydney Sweeney Has Great Jeans,” was meant to be a playful pun on “great genes”. A video even showed Sweeney crossing out “genes” and writing “jeans” on a billboard. In another clip, Sweeney’s voiceover explicitly stated, “Genes are passed down from parents to offspring, often determining traits like hair color, personality and even eye color. My genes are blue”. And that’s when the internet collectively gasped, then roared. Critics quickly pointed out that “great genes” carries some serious historical baggage. It’s a phrase “long associated with white supremacist ideals, used to promote whiteness, thinness, and eurocentric beauty standards”. When paired with Sydney Sweeney, a “blue-eyed, blonde-haired woman often labelled the embodiment of ‘classic American beauty’”, the message, for many, started to “resemble eugenic messaging”. Eugenics, for those who might need a refresher, is a discredited theory that aimed to “improve the genetic quality of the human population,” historically popular among white supremacists who believed in the “genetic superiority of Nordic, Germanic, and Anglo-Saxon peoples”. Suddenly, a seemingly innocent pun felt… loaded. Social media, particularly TikTok and X (formerly Twitter), erupted. People posted detailed “explainers,” drawing parallels to language used in Nazi Germany. Comments flew: “NAZI propaganda,” “fascist,” and questions like, “They could’ve gotten a beautiful Black woman to do this ad, but they picked a yt [white] woman instead…”. The backlash “slammed the ad for a lack of diversity and poor messaging”. Now, some folks, like TV host Megyn Kelly, jumped to the campaign’s defense, calling the accusations “absurd” and blaming the “lunatic left”. They argued it was clearly a reference to Sweeney’s body and the product, not her racial makeup. Others simply dismissed it as an “overexaggeration”. But here’s the kicker: through all this, neither Sydney Sweeney nor American Eagle issued a public statement addressing the uproar. Their Instagram post for the campaign remained live, though comments seemed to be heavily moderated. Silence, in this case, spoke volumes. The Numbers Game: Did It Work? Despite the firestorm, or perhaps because of it, the campaign delivered some eye-popping financial results. Beyond the stock market, the campaign certainly generated buzz. The main campaign video on American Eagle’s Instagram page racked up over 1.1 million views. Analysts noted the strategy “helped reconnect with Gen Z and revived the brand’s market buzz”. So, financially, it was a win. But at what cost? While the campaign “did boost business,” it came with the explicit acknowledgment that “social goodwill may have taken a hit”. Experts warned of “longer-term reputational risks,” especially with Gen Z and millennial consumers, who increasingly prefer socially conscious brands. Calculated Controversy or Tone-Deaf Blunder? My Take. This is where it gets interesting, isn’t it? Was American Eagle genuinely oblivious to the historical weight of “great genes,” or was this a calculated risk, a deliberate attempt to “push buttons” and “break through the noise” in a crowded market? From my vantage point, having seen countless campaigns rise and fall, I lean towards a calculated risk that perhaps misjudged the depth of the cultural nerve it would strike. Allen Adamson, a seasoned advertising expert,

Snickers, Hunger, and the power of saying what everyone feels. What one candy bar taught us about human behavior, global marketing, and why a bit of wit can go a long way You’ve probably been there, snapping at someone for no good reason, only to later realize you were “Hangry”. Maybe it was that moment in a meeting, or snapping at a friend over something trivial, and then realizing your empty stomach was the real culprit. It’s a universal experience. That sudden switch from calm to cranky, the foggy thinking, the irritability. We’ve all felt it, but few brands ever acknowledged it so openly, so cleverly, and so memorably as Snickers did. When they launched “You’re Not You When You’re Hungry” back in 2010, it was more than just a slogan. It was a mirror reflecting something everyone knows but rarely talks about in ads, the way hunger messes with your personality. This campaign didn’t just sell candy bars. It turned a simple truth into a global phenomenon that redefined how we think about hunger, humor, and brand storytelling. A Chocolate bar in crisis Snickers has been around since 1930. For decades, it carved out a strong niche as a hearty, filling snack. It had mass-market appeal, yes, but by the late 2000s, that edge was fading. Sales were dipping. In the U.S., household penetration had slowed. Globally, the messaging was disjointed. Different markets were running different types of ads with inconsistent tones. Creatively, the brand felt like it had hit a wall. The longstanding image of Snickers as “the bar for manly men” wasn’t cutting through the noise anymore. Mars, the parent company, realized they didn’t need to change the product. They needed to reset the story. So they looked for something new, something everyone could get behind. They found it in a question so obvious it had been hiding in plain sight: What happens when people get hungry? They turn into monsters. Or babies. Or Betty White. The simple insight that sparked a global shift The beauty of the “You’re Not You When You’re Hungry” campaign is how obvious it is. But sometimes, the most powerful ideas are the ones that feel like common sense after someone else says them. Hunger changes people. We all know that. But Snickers was the first brand to really say it out loud, and then dramatize it in the most ridiculous, entertaining way possible. The premise? When you’re hungry, you’re not yourself. Have a Snickers and snap out of it. The campaign launched during the 2010 Super Bowl with a now-legendary commercial. Betty White, playing football, gets tackled hard. “Mike, you’re playing like Betty White out there.” One bite of Snickers later, Mike returns to form. The ad struck gold. It was absurd. It was funny. But more importantly, it was true. Because the core idea was so intuitive, it spread like wildfire. What Happened Next Was Kind of Insane If this had been a one-off gag, it would’ve been a great Super Bowl moment. But this thing snowballed. Let’s pause on that: 18,000%. That’s not buzz. That’s chaos. And they didn’t touch the recipe. No new ingredients. No limited edition gimmicks. Just smart marketing that people actually wanted to watch and talk about. How they pulled it off and why it worked so well 1. The Truth Everyone Recognizes Instantly This was never a campaign built on data points or obscure insights. It was built on real human behavior. We all get irritable when we’re hungry. But framing that change in personality as literally becoming someone else was the magic move. Snickers took that truth and turned it into a joke everyone’s in on. 2. Humor Without Humiliation So many ads try to be funny by punching down or forcing it. Snickers made fun of people’s worst moods but always with a wink. Joe Pesci throwing a tantrum at a party. Mr. Bean messing up a ninja mission. Robin Williams as a spaced-out football coach. It was ridiculous but not cruel. That’s the line, and Snickers walked it perfectly. 3. The Genius of the Fluent Device They didn’t just make funny commercials. They created a format, one they could use over and over without it getting stale. The setup was always the same. Someone’s acting weird. Someone else offers them a Snickers. Suddenly, they’re back to normal. It’s comforting. You see the format, and you know what’s coming, but you still want to see how they’ll pull it off this time. This gave Snickers something that’s hard to build: consistency and flexibility. 4. Global Strategy, Local Flavor One of the smartest things they did was localize the idea without breaking the core. In the UK, it was Mr. Bean. In India, MS Dhoni. In Australia, they created the “Hungerithm,” adjusting prices based on online mood. They respected cultural context but stayed true to the format. That’s how you scale an idea without losing its soul. 5. No Feature Dumping, No Wasted Words Snickers didn’t waste a second describing the ingredients. No talk of nougat. No caramel close-ups. No lines about satisfying cravings. Instead, they owned a moment—the feeling of being off your game. That moment now belongs to Snickers. And that’s a kind of positioning money usually can’t buy. They Even Made It Social Organically You didn’t need a hashtag to remember this campaign. But they still played smart. Every move added depth, not noise. Eight lessons I took with me 1. Build Around a Human Truth If your campaign can’t be explained in one sentence, you’re probably doing too much. This one? “You’re not you when you’re hungry.” That’s it. 2. Make People Laugh, Not Cringe Humor isn’t about being edgy. It’s about being relatable. The Snickers jokes landed because we’ve all been that person. 3. Create a Format, Not Just an Ad A great format outlives a single execution. It becomes a reusable asset. The Snickers formula didn’t get old; it got anticipated. 4. Avoid the Obvious Stuff

When flying mustaches make more sense than playing it safe: Breaking the rules to build a Brand Let’s get one thing straight: this campaign should not have worked. On paper, it sounds completely unhinged. A man at a Super Bowl party runs out of Pringles. He blows into an empty can like it’s a medieval war horn. In response, facial hair detaches from the faces of celebrities and flies (yes, flies!) across the country to deliver snacks. I’ve worked in marketing for nearly two decades, and I’ve seen everything. But this? This was a whole new flavor of weird… And it was brilliant! Because against every rule we’re taught, The Call of the Mustaches didn’t just stand out, it sold. The ad landed among the top 1% of Super Bowl campaigns in 2025. It drove an 8.4% spike in unit sales. It sparked conversations online and off. And most importantly, it did what few ads manage to do: it made people care. Not about the flavor. Not about the price. But about the brand. So, let’s talk about why… Because if you’re in marketing, or building a brand, launching a startup, or just trying to get attention in a crowded room, there’s something here for you. Something about risk. About weirdness. About knowing when to throw out the playbook and just fly the mustache. Playing It Safe Doesn’t Sell Let me start with a confession: I’ve written my share of safe campaigns. Neatly structured taglines. Clean visuals. Feature-led messaging that ticks all the boxes. The kind that gets polite nods in client meetings and lands in-market with a gentle thud. We do this because it’s comfortable. Because weird feels risky. Because we’re taught marketing is about clarity and consistency, and those things matter. Pringles didn’t play it safe. They went surreal. They picked absurdity over logic, storytelling over specs, and joy over convention. And it worked. The ad wasn’t just about chips. It was about that moment when a party grinds to a halt because the snacks run out. The minor panic. The awkward silence. The fantasy of a flying mustache saving the day. It turned a relatable moment into brand theatre. And the weirdest part? It didn’t just entertain. It moved product. Why Now? Context Matters At the time, Pringles wasn’t exactly winning the snack aisle. Their dollar share was hovering at 3.4%, well behind Lay’s (13%) and Cheetos (6.7%). Mr. P, their iconic mascot, had faded into near-background noise. Competitors were launching new flavors every quarter, building hype with Gen Z influencers, and making snack food cultural. Pringles needed to shake things up. But they didn’t try to outshout the competition. They sang a stranger tune. They went inward, found their quirkiest asset, the mustache, and built the entire campaign around that. FCB New York pitched something wild, and Pringles said yes. That choice, to bet on a wild creative idea rather than tweak another version of “now crispier than ever,” made all the difference. And it paid off with interest. The Campaign: Anatomy of a Mustache Takeover Airing in the second quarter of Super Bowl LIX (prime placement, at $7–8M per 30 seconds), the ad featured Adam Brody discovering an empty can of Pringles. He blows into it like a horn. Cue chaos: mustaches detach from famous faces and fly across the country. The mustaches zoom to stores, attach themselves to fresh Pringles cans, and fly back to the party. It’s absurd. And delightful. Online, a longer 1:13 version pushed the weirdness further. Campy music. Extra celebrity moments. The jingle? A parody of the 1960s Batman theme: “Na na na na… mustache!” Weeks before the Super Bowl, redesigned cans featuring mustache silhouettes hinted at the campaign. Fans were encouraged to guess which celebrities would feature. It created curiosity and engagement before the main event. Food creators like Meredith Hayden and Vic Blends were brought into the mix. The campaign wasn’t confined to TV. It lived across social, in-store, YouTube, TikTok, and influencer content. The team even integrated “mustache transformations” and branded makeovers to generate real-world moments that made their way online. To land the joke (and the sale) Pringles dropped two new flavors as part of the campaign: Loaded Potato Skins and Miller Lite Beer Can Chicken. The flavors were visible in the ads and immediately available in stores. Returning fan-favorite 7-Layer Dip was also reintroduced. This wasn’t just storytelling. It was storytelling with a SKU. Why It Worked: A Deeper Look Most brands would keep the mascot static. Pringles made Mr. P’s mustache the star. It moved. It took action. It carried meaning. Too often, brand assets sit idle. Pringles showed how to make a symbol do something. There’s a difference between weird for weird’s sake and weird that comes from a real insight. Running out of snacks mid-party is a real tension. The mustache? That’s how Pringles solved it, in their universe. Weirdness with logic is memorable. Weirdness without it is noise. This wasn’t just gag humor. It had references (Batman theme). It had sentiment (Andy Reid’s farewell glance). It had moments that stuck. It was written with layers, not punchlines. Celebrities weren’t just tacked on. They made sense. Offerman, Harden, Reid, all iconic mustaches. No square pegs. Just the right faces for the story. People knew something was coming. The payoff was worth it. Teasers didn’t spoil the surprise; they built the appetite. And more importantly, they made people part of the game. Too many campaigns treat the Super Bowl like the finish line. Pringles treated it like the beginning. That gave the whole effort longer legs. And legs matter when your mascot flies. The Numbers Don’t Lie Let’s ground all this in data: For a snack brand that was fourth in line for shelf space? That’s serious movement. What It Means for the Rest of Us You don’t need a Super Bowl budget to apply the thinking behind this campaign. The tactics may be high-end, but the strategy is universal: 8 Lessons