It’s one thing to feature diversity in your campaign. It’s another thing entirely to understand the culture you’re actively engaging. One is inclusion as marketing aesthetic; the other is inclusion as ethos, built from the inside out. Polo Ralph Lauren’s Oak Bluffs collection and American Eagle’s Sydney Sweeney jeans campaign serve as two sides of that coin; one an expertly executed exercise in cultural fluency, the other a cautionary tale in what happens when a brand reads the room (very) wrong and still barrels forward.
Let’s start with the win. Ralph Lauren’s Oak Bluffs collection dropped in late July like a love letter to Black heritage and leisure, an offering that didn’t just center Black presence, it honored it. Conceived by Polo Creative Director James M. Jeters and rooted in the history of Oak Bluffs, Martha’s Vineyard’s historic Black enclave, the campaign felt nothing like a marketing stunt and more like a cultural document. Collaborations with Morehouse and Spelman alumni, local historians, and institutions like The Cottagers Inc. gave it the kind of layered credibility you can’t fake. It should be noted that Jeters is the brand’s first Black creative director.
The clothes were preppy, clean, and undeniably RL, but the details told deeper stories—embroidered HBCU mascots, varsity jackets with roots, a color palette that evoked summers spent on Sea View Avenue, not just any coastline. Ralph Lauren didn’t borrow the aesthetic of Black excellence; it partnered with it. The result was a capsule collection that felt archival, intimate, and deeply lived-in, meant to be heirlooms to be passed down.
It resonated across the board. While the brand didn’t publish campaign-specific sales figures, industry reports noted Ralph Lauren stock reaching all-time highs shortly after the launch, part of a broader uptick tied to the brand’s ongoing investment in storytelling and community-rooted drops. Media coverage was glowing. And not just from the predictable fashion glossies. Black media, culture critics, and everyday consumers praised the campaign for how it held space for Black joy without flattening it or pandering to it.
There’s a specific kind of cultural power in being seen not as a trend, but as a tradition. And Ralph Lauren leaned into that with reverence and restraint, allowing Oak Bluffs residents, HBCU alums, and real families to carry the narrative. No white saviorism. No celebrity mouthpieces. Just intergenerational legacy rendered in knitwear and cotton twill.
Now swing to the opposite end of the spectrum, and you land on American Eagle’s now-infamous Sydney Sweeney “Great Jeans” campaign—an attempt at cheeky wordplay that lost control of the wheel and quickly veered into a ditch of cultural disaster. The campaign also launched in July and, at first glance, looked like standard Gen Z bait: a hyper-polished starlet, a wink to her body and conventional beauty, a clever pun on genes and jeans. But context is everything, and this campaign missed it completely.
The backlash was fast and furious, particularly among younger millennials and Gen Z audiences. “My genes are blue,” the campaign’s tagline, struck a nerve. Critics pointed to its unsettling echoes of eugenics rhetoric, particularly when paired with Sweeney’s very Aryan-coded image—blonde, blue-eyed, and framed as aspirational Americana. TikTok lit up with critiques, parodies (including an infamous takedown by rapper Doja Cat), and threads unpacking how the campaign unintentionally evoked white supremacist subtext. Even without malicious intent, the visual language did damage. When a campaign evokes that kind of imagery, even accidentally, it’s not just a bad ad. It’s a cultural red flag.
Like another unfortunate summer campaign, the Kendall Jenner/Pepsi collaboration from 2020, one wonders why no one at the American Eagle decision-making table flagged this concept in concern over how this messaging might be received, even if not intended. Perhaps because there were no people of color sitting at the table?
What made it worse was the brand’s silence. At the time of this writing, there was no statement. No clarification. No acknowledgment, other than to post a carousel of images of a biracial model, perhaps hoping to snuff out the firestorm. The over 2600 comments (and counting) on that post are proof that people are not letting them off the hook so easily. American Eagle watched the backlash roll in and simply kept quiet, hoping it would pass. But this is not the audience that lets things slide. Gen Z, in particular, expects brands not only to know better but to respond better. Cultural missteps without accountability are remembered and memed.
What’s striking in comparing these two campaigns is how proximity to culture is the real differentiator. Ralph Lauren invited community members to shape the campaign from its inception. American Eagle pushed out a tagline that likely passed through a boardroom echo chamber with no one willing, or able, to ask the right questions. It’s not enough to aim for viral. Virality without cultural fluency is a liability. In an era where symbolism moves fast and context travels even faster, brands just can’t afford to wing it.
There’s also a question of power. The Oak Bluffs campaign was generative; it gave back to the community it depicted. Proceeds and attention supported organizations preserving Black history, and the campaign was accompanied by a documentary elevating real voices. Contrast that with American Eagle’s rollout, which centered a single actress and offered no broader cultural context beyond a pun and a pretty face. It didn’t create space for anyone else in the narrative, just consumption without consciousness. Nothing wrong with that on its face– maybe they were aiming for a more retro vibe, as in the infamous Brooke Shields Calvin Klein ad, but even that faced its own backlash when it debuted in 1980, even if for different reasons.
What these two campaigns reveal, in razor-sharp relief, is how generational values are reshaping what brand credibility looks like. Gen Z doesn’t just want representation; they want representation with intention. They expect brands to do the cultural homework, to consider who’s being referenced, who’s being left out, and who’s being empowered in the process. It’s why Ralph Lauren’s celebration of Black summer traditions felt like a revelation, while American Eagle’s denim drop felt like a relic.
And here’s the thing about backlash: sometimes, it’s the only way a brand learns. But the real lesson isn’t just about crisis management. It’s about preemptive cultural literacy. It’s about putting real people in the room, people who understand history, language, aesthetics, and how they all land differently depending on who’s watching. If your marketing team can’t see a potential landmine in a line like “My genes are blue,” you need new eyes in the room.
Brands no longer operate in a vacuum. Every campaign is a conversation, every image a signal, every tagline a code. Ralph Lauren treated that responsibility with care, and it paid off. American Eagle fumbled the assignment and tried to ghost the fallout. One brand expanded its legacy by listening; the other burned cultural capital trying to be clever. Or something.
In 2025, culture isn’t a backdrop; it’s the whole terrain that brands are navigating. If you’re not mapping it carefully, you’re going to get lost in the wilderness. Worse, you’ll be exposed. The good news? The blueprint is out there. Just ask the folks in Oak Bluffs.
