When Did Brand Collaborations Start to Taste Like Watered-Down Coffee?
I was standing in line for a flat white when I saw it. A bottle-green hoodie, plastered with a cereal brand’s logo, on someone who looked like they'd never touched sugar. And that’s when it hit me. Brand collaborations, once the mischievous, inventive darlings of marketing, have become duller than a mittens-only rugby match.
Let’s rewind. In 2016, Vetements shoved DHL into the pages of Vogue. That was a bold move. It felt like fashion and branding locked eyes across the room and cracked a grin. It wasn’t just surprising, it said something. Fast-forward to now, collaborations feel like shoe polish: different labels, same bland shine. Everyone wants a collab. Few ask why.
The weird problem is, the audience is two clicks ahead. When Whittaker's joins with some K-Beauty brand or an energy drink turns up in French restaurant merch, we get it. What we don’t get is the point. There’s a difference between playful subversion and slapping logos together like ham on lamingtons. If the collaboration doesn't add story or spark curiosity, what are we left with? Just more stuff. And increasingly, stuff with less soul.
Here’s a hope. That 2024 becomes the year of the slow collab. Build tension. Cultivate craving. Let design speak, not scream. There’s still magic in a well-played crossover. But what we need now isn’t quantity, it’s wit and weirdness. Put the ping back in the ping-pong of brand meet brand. And maybe leave the cereal for the bowl.
Let’s rewind. In 2016, Vetements shoved DHL into the pages of Vogue. That was a bold move. It felt like fashion and branding locked eyes across the room and cracked a grin. It wasn’t just surprising, it said something. Fast-forward to now, collaborations feel like shoe polish: different labels, same bland shine. Everyone wants a collab. Few ask why.
The weird problem is, the audience is two clicks ahead. When Whittaker's joins with some K-Beauty brand or an energy drink turns up in French restaurant merch, we get it. What we don’t get is the point. There’s a difference between playful subversion and slapping logos together like ham on lamingtons. If the collaboration doesn't add story or spark curiosity, what are we left with? Just more stuff. And increasingly, stuff with less soul.
Here’s a hope. That 2024 becomes the year of the slow collab. Build tension. Cultivate craving. Let design speak, not scream. There’s still magic in a well-played crossover. But what we need now isn’t quantity, it’s wit and weirdness. Put the ping back in the ping-pong of brand meet brand. And maybe leave the cereal for the bowl.