We find ourselves in an era where individual identities are increasingly shaped by the brands we embrace, the music we enjoy, the movies we watch, and the games we play. Our consumption choices are integral to our sense of self, leading to a heightened willingness to invest in experiences and products that hold significant economic potential. Take "Swiftonomics," for example—cities and even countries, like Singapore, have recognized that passionate fan bases can dramatically boost local economies, with studies showing that such events can rival the economic impact of hosting a Super Bowl. Not to mention the impact on the brands both officially and unofficially affiliated with Taylor Swift - the NFL hit a new peak of viewership since she has been attending games. Meanwhile, exclusive experiences like the Wayne Enterprise Experiences cater to ultra-wealthy fans eager to immerse themselves in their favorite narratives, such as Batman and Bruce Wayne, often paying a premium to embody the essence of the character or lifestyle. This intense willingness to spend underscores the immense value in engaging with microtribes—those niche communities that not only share common interests but also wield the economic power to transform local markets (more on these microtribes later in our newsletter). We’ve waxed poetic on how certain IPs and licenses scratch that nostalgic or of-the-moment itch and have the power to generate cross-pollinated excitement, but the secret sauce lies within operational optimization (read: staying nimble and quick) and keeping a finger on the cultural pulse (luckily, we can help you with this one).
TikTok is a time machine. Teens “discover” things like cargo pants and Kate Bush as if they’re the first to encounter them. Welcome to the Recency Illusion, where decades-old products, concepts, or personalities suddenly feel novel to a new audience. So, what’s old is new again when a new generation gets ahold of it. Take Stüssy, a brand that dominated the 90s mall scene, recently resurrected from retail purgatory and is now beloved by Gen ZAs. What was once a teen staple is the latest “it” brand—all without Stüssy lifting a finger. Now, let’s talk music for a minute. Stranger Things propelled Kate Bush’s 1985 banger “Running Up That Hill” back into the limelight as if it just dropped on Spotify. What does this all mean? The Recency Illusion is more than mind play. It’s an opportunity for brands to tap into something powerful—intergenerational connection by way of nostalgia. Think of the re-release of historical American Girl characters, where parents and their kids bond over dolls that, in some cases, outdate the internet itself. The sweet spot? Positioning yourself in a way that feels nostalgic to one group but fresh to another. Nostalgia creates an emotional connection (the good stuff), and novelty keeps it feeling relevant. And while using nostalgia as a strategy is nothing new (wink), what people are nostalgic for is constantly updating.
The morning reading ritual is restored, among other papered practices (read on). A visible return to unfiltered (we didn’t say unbiased) content, rather than an all-day digital peppering of pieces prescribed for you, is centering consumers back on the good old periodical, from the Sunday Times crossword puzzle to the book clubs we’ve been going on about. What we wouldn’t give to lug that September Issue on a plane again.
On top of our hit parade is the L.L. Bean x abbode collaboration for customized Boat & Totes. The partnership brought out the best in both brands, but more importantly, it was true to the personality of each business. Plus, the juice was worth the squeeze for all. Loyal customers waited in line for an original L.L. Bean Boat & Tote personalized for ultimate self-expression; the brand saw a legitimate revenue stream, and abbode got the exposure and recognition it deserves.
Has Burning Man hit its cultural peak? Last year’s washout was a harbinger of waning interest, and the festival did not sell out as expected this year. A bout of capitalistic concern prompted the organization to do something unthinkable. The Burner powers that be took to TikTok to promote the event. A bold move, and one that clashes with Burning Man's Decommodification principle, sparked debate among long-time burners and forced others to sit this one out. In another unconventional move, the BM org pushed prominent camps like Mayan Warrior and Maxa to release their music lineups earlier than usual in hopes of drumming up excitement, a tactic traditionally frowned upon for attracting “DJ chasers” rather than true Burners. Despite this fundamental change in the lead-up to this year's TTITD (That Thing In The Desert), the irreverent Burner spirit persisted with events like the “Golden Hour Influencer Photobombing Bike Tour” and the Firm Globe theme camp, which hilariously satirizes corporate culture by pretending to be a real "technology information and internet" company working from The Playa, complete with a mock LinkedIn page. Burning Man’s pivot to commercial tactics shows the risk of straying from the core values of a strongly established proposition. A business, regardless of the type, will not win all the time.
Some big-name influencers are making small-time moves. What do we mean by that? We're noticing that prominent players pinpoint particular audiences rather than the greater masses. Here, celebrities are seemingly courting other celebrities or anointed personalities, creating a more insulated community. The most understandable illustration, "nepo babies" is becoming a tool for parents to one-up each other; the new coming-out ball, if you will. But to what end? Vogue World also had us asking, "Who is this for?" Does the extravagant event have any impact on the public, or is it simply dinner and a show for the in-crowd to enjoy? These questions open up broader queries about influencer marketing at large. How can we pivot from ostentatiously aspirational to actually authentic?
While Covid is years behind us, we’re still feeling the effects of the stay-at-home order. Travel bugs bit. First it was “I need to make up for lost time;” now, with the world burning, it’s more “what if I run out of time?” An excursion always scratches the itch, and Salone is centrally located in Europe. Milan, the ideal jumping-off point for further travel, be it business or pleasure, serves as elevated industry event location. Gucci’s Salone presence capitalized on the sightseeing sentiment to dress the tram system in head-to-toe Gucci and move people around the city.
Despite technically earning higher incomes than previous generations, Millennials are struggling to afford necessities like housing due to the rising cost of living and imprudent lifestyle choices. Disruptor brands like Quince and Blackbird are catering to the have-your-cake-and-eat-it-too mentality. Quince delivers at-cost fashion from name-brand factories, while Blackbirdallows users to earn airline-like points, status, and perks for dining out at buzzy restaurants.
Shaming Millennials for being basic, Gen Z made individuality and off-beat aesthetics their battle cry. Now older and set in their ways, Millennials lean into this basic-dom happily. Note comedy podcast and YouTube show The Toast proudly sticking to its Millennial aesthetic roots with classic pale pink and banana leaf wallpaper, plus tentacle brands like canned Aperol Spritzand a book club. In fashion, interest in classics and familiar comforts boosts the appeal of straight-down-the-fairway brands like J.Crew and Abercrombie—think: Taylor Swift’s average-as-best style as aspiration.
463 Seventh Avenue, Suite 1102
New York, NY 10018
hello@collerdavis.com
© 2025 Henry Doneger Associates, inc.