Are we praising curves—or packaging them for profit? A critical take.
In the golden age of influencer marketing and brand authenticity, American Eagle’s latest campaign featuring Sydney Sweeney was supposed to be a slam dunk. A pop culture darling with undeniable charisma and sex appeal, Sweeney was cast as the face—and body—of the denim brand’s newest line.However, what was supposed to be creative wordplay swiftly descended into a social media tempest when the campaign tagline, "Great Jeans," started making the rounds along with pictures of the actress posing sensuously in tight-fitting denim.
The reaction was quick and polarized. Several admirers praised the advertisement for showcasing Sydney's inherent curves and self-assurance, claiming that she embodies the new generation of unabashedly feminine, body-positive role models. Others weren’t buying it. Critics accused American Eagle of leaning into outdated tropes—sexualizing a woman’s body under the thin veil of marketing irony and exploiting Sydney’s physicality more than her talent or personality.
So, what went wrong? Or perhaps more aptly—what does this incident tell us about where we are in the ongoing conversation about women, fashion, and the way brands still rely on bodies to sell products?
First, let’s talk about the tagline. The pun "Great Jeans" is as old as time itself. It plays on the homophonic relationship between “jeans” and “genes,” insinuating that the subject not only wears the denim well but is genetically blessed. It’s meant to be cheeky, confident, even a little empowering. But in the current cultural climate—where conversations around female objectification, internalized beauty standards, and the monetization of body image are louder than ever—such simplicity doesn’t fly under the radar.
What might have read as fun and flirty in 2005 now feels tone-deaf, especially when deployed by a global brand that should, by now, be deeply familiar with the nuance required in campaigns involving female celebrity. The issue isn’t just that Sydney Sweeney is attractive or that she wore the jeans well—it’s the way the campaign hinged almost entirely on the allure of her figure rather than on what she represents: talent, ambition, and versatility.
For decades, fashion has struggled to strike a balance between celebrating the female form and commodifying it. Every few years, we have this same conversation—whether it’s over Victoria’s Secret’s “Angels,” Calvin Klein’s stripped-down campaigns, or the latest viral TikTok trend. American Eagle, known for a more inclusive and body-diverse approach in recent years, seemed to regress with this campaign, and fans noticed.
Sydney herself has not commented publicly on the controversy, but that silence speaks volumes too.The role of the silent muse—beautiful, obedient, and unperturbed—is frequently required of women in her position. When things go wrong, the brand takes the brunt of the PR backlash, and the celebrity is forced to choose between criticizing the ad and coming across as unappreciative or disloyal, or defending it and risking coming off as tone deaf.
This dilemma illustrates the limits of body talk in fashion today. We say we want representation. We say we want honesty, natural beauty, unfiltered flaws. And yet, the moment a celebrity’s body becomes the centerpiece of a campaign—even under the guise of empowerment—we recoil if it doesn’t come with sufficient context, consent, or commentary.
Part of this comes down to fatigue. We’re tired of seeing “confidence” marketed through a narrow aesthetic. We’re exhausted by campaigns that pretend to be revolutionary when they’re simply repackaging age-old beauty ideals. And we’re suspicious of slogans that try to wink at us while selling the same old fantasy.
But perhaps most importantly, we’re in an era where consumers want *more*. More transparency. More respect. More nuance. We want campaigns that don’t just admire a woman’s shape but also elevate her voice. We want fashion brands to ditch the lazy puns and actually engage with the shifting tides of culture.
In the end, American Eagle’s “Great Jeans” moment isn’t a catastrophic failure—it’s a reminder. A reminder that clever isn’t always clever enough. That admiration without depth rings hollow. And that even in the world of denim, where fit is everything, it’s time for the messaging to fit, too.
Fashion has always walked a fine line between admiration and exploitation.
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