How clothes reflect an era’s zeitgeist
Actor Sydney Sweeney in American Eagle’s 2025 “Sydney Sweeney has Great Genes” ad campaign. (Screenshot / American Eagle)
Before appearing on Sydney Sweeney in the viral American Eagle jean/gene double entendre ad, denim was once synonymous with the working class. Images of stained, deep indigo trousers on blue-collar workers came to mind prior to the double denim—also known as the ‘Canadian tuxedo,’ as featured on Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake at the 2001 American Music Awards. Today, denim’s origins and demographic ties are largely obscure. Instead, it has become a recurring staple in North American closets. All in all, denim’s newfound association with the mainstream mirrors other materials or styles. The move from staples among the ostracised to everyday pieces highlights the link between clothes and our zeitgeist.
A brief look into denim’s origin strengthens that link. Denim’s introduction to North America as a working-class staple coincided with the Gilded Age, a time of industrial production and wealth disparity. Such a gap between the rich and poor calls for class identifiers—during that era, clothes became those identifiers. By the 1900s, denim became a staple for blue-collar workers and cowboys. This link to cowboys aided denim’s propagation into the mainstream and denim’s connotation with Americana. The Americana style, as the name implies, encompasses aesthetics essential to the American identity. Rugged cowboys, country music, apple pies, and blonde women posing next to an American flag are some things that encapsulate Americana. The callbacks to cowboys as integral to the Americana aesthetic include denim by virtue of its pre-established connection. These symbols were imprinted onto denim because of the era. The early 1900s were categorised by two world wars, which encouraged and bred nationalism, the idea that one’s nation should take precedence over others. Regardless of previous meanings, by the 1960s, jeans had shifted from a class signifier to a political symbol.
The 1960s in the United States were marked by political turmoil. Social movements against the US-Vietnam War draft and for granting civil liberties to marginalised groups were prevalent. In one of those social movements, denim became a notable political symbol. During the 1965 Voting Rights protests, Black demonstrators donned their blue denim uniforms as they advocated for their civil liberties, as a reference to African Americans’ history as involuntary labourers. To suburban Americans, denim gained its rebellious status through James Dean’s movie /Rebel Without a Cause/. In the film, Dean, dressed in a plain white tee, a red jacket, and blue jeans, seeks meaning within suburbia. Dean’s fight resonated with viewers who were in similar circumstances. Denim’s shift from a nationalist symbol to a revolutionary one highlights how fashion reflects politics, status, and class.
Nowadays, denim’s revolutionary history has largely been forgotten. Instead, it has become a part of the average North American’s daily wardrobe. According to Civic Science, 57 percent of US adults wear jeans regularly, likely due to mass consumerism: wide access to items that were once difficult to find can lead to lost symbolism, despite historical ties to ostracised groups. In its increased access, jeans have lost their significance.
Ever since the creation of ready-to-wear attire, consumers have been able to purchase large quantities of clothing. According to the University of North Carolina, the average consumer in 2024 buys 60 percent more clothing than they did seventeen years ago. The increased buying, alongside incessant social media algorithms, means consumers spend less time curating “personal styles.”
This phenomenon has, according to the New York Post, been dubbed by Gen Z as “Generation Zero style.” The pejorative title originated from a picture of a group of Gen Z girls wearing identical shirts and blue jeans. Part of the reason the article gives for this homogeneity is the desire to imitate wealthy and stylish celebrities like Hailey Bieber, who is often pictured wearing blue jeans. Denim has served as a class signifier historically as well, likely because mimicking the rich was more difficult. Where people once relied on curated glimpses into trendsetters’ lives, social media has now made others’ styles instantly accessible. Each factor accumulates to create the phenomenon of young people dressing the same and clothing losing its revolutionary meaning.
But how does this explain the Sydney Sweeney advert? That ad exists because most have forgotten denim’s working-class history. An item of clothing once symbolising resistance by marginalised groups was worn by a wealthy woman in an ad accused of parroting eugenics-related dog whistles. This advertisement’s release would imply the zeitgeist is conformist and fraternising with the far right. However, the current backlash towards the ad shows that most consumers reject far-right ideologies. Additionally, as people reject mass consumerism, opting to be environmentally conscious, they are forced to build wardrobes over time. In doing so, they ascribe meaning to the clothes they purchase, thereby constructing unique and solid identities attached to ideologies. These changes, although subtle, could alter the fast-paced and arguably vapid culture to one that acknowledges and celebrates the time and effort needed to craft style and its politics. And perhaps then, clothes can regain their revolutionary meaning.