Sydney Sweeney’s heated American Eagle row says a lot about Gen Z

Sydney Sweeney’s latest campaign for American Eagle looks, on the surface, like a textbook win. The imagery is rich with sun-faded nostalgia, vintage muscle cars, classic denim, and a warm palette. It’s Americana with a high-gloss finish, tailor-made for TikTok’s aesthetic sensibilities. On paper, it follows all the rules of creating one of the best adverts of all time. But the internet had other plans.

Instead of a universal thumbs-up, the Sydney Sweeney American Eagle campaign drew backlash from younger audiences who saw the visuals not as harmless nostalgia but as a glossed-over take on a very loaded cultural legacy. Words like “performative,” “exclusionary,” and “tone-deaf” surfaced across X (Twitter), Reddit, and Instagram. The blowback raises a much larger question: has Gen Z fallen out of love with Americana, or are they simply demanding it grow up?

For a middle-Gen-Xer, I was left scratching my head a little; I grew up on Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen and, for my sins, the double-denim hair-rock of Bon Jovi; we had Back to the Future, The Breakfast Club, and Stand By Me. We celebrated the American dream but critiqued it, and then Nirvana blew it all up with Smells Like Teen Spirit and In Bloom, and we sang even louder from the same songbook.

So I was left scratching my head over the American Eagle whoo-ha. I wouldn't say American Eagle set out to wade into culture war territory. This is a brand built on relaxed Americana; youthful, laid-back authenticity, freedom, and self-expression, not battle lines. Yet in 2025, nothing is neutral, especially not the American flag, vintage muscle cars and pick-up trucks, or a slice of Main Street charm. For Gen Z, these images don’t just signal freedom and youth; they’ve become flashpoints in an ongoing conversation about identity, power, and exclusion.

This sensitivity isn’t new, especially for Sydney Sweeney. In 2022, a birthday party for a family member featuring red MAGA-style hats and Western-themed décor led to an online uproar. Though Sweeney wasn’t directly responsible, and she's never revealed her politics, the optics triggered a collective side-eye from Gen Z, a generation raised on media literacy, Google sleuthing, and a sharp awareness of subtext.

So, why does this matter now?

Gen Z is growing up in an America far different from the one romanticised in Levi’s ads of the ’90s or Bruce Springsteen’s Born in the U.S.A. A 2021 Pew Research study found that only 16% of Gen Z adults reported being “extremely proud” to be American, compared to 42% of Baby Boomers. For them, the flag is just as likely to invoke images of division, of the Capitol riots, immigration bans, book censorship, as it is backyard barbecues.

And yet, Gen Z isn’t anti-nostalgia; quite the opposite. TikTok, design, and art trends lean heavily on retro aesthetics: think VHS filters, disposable cameras, and low-fi country songs repackaged for sad-girl playlists. The aesthetic of Americana is alive and thriving, just not uncritically. According to YPulse’s 2024 Brand Tracker, 72% of Gen Z consumers say it’s important for brands to “stand for something,” and 66% believe brands should “acknowledge social issues.” If you’re going to borrow the visual language of American heritage, you’d better bring the context too.

Some brands do get it right. Levi’s has evolved into a progressive heritage label, spotlighting sustainability, racial equity, and LGBTQ+ stories through inclusive campaigns. Beyoncé’s Cowboy Carter is another masterclass in reimagining Americana. She didn’t reject it, she remixed it. Reclaiming country music through a Black feminist lens. And Gen Z artists can champion Americana but on their terms, such as Lana Del Rey and, obviously, Taylor Swift, who has become the golden ticket for rebranding country music and imagery into something everyone can love.

This is where American Eagle’s campaign stumbles. The visuals are polished, but context is absent. A gorgeous shot of Sydney leaning on a rusty Camaro doesn’t feel like a love letter to America; it feels like a sepia-toned fantasy that ignores who built those roads, who got left behind, and who was never pictured in the first place.

For a generation fluent in Photoshop, deep fakes, and protest signs, brought up under the spectre of 9/11, the rise of social media, climate anxiety, recession, and Covid, a flag isn’t just a flag, a slogan lands differently, and jeans, well… blue double-denim feels loaded.

The future of Americana

But this isn’t all bad news. Gen Z isn’t cancelling Americana, they’re editing it. They want stories that include them and others, not just evoke base nostalgia but scratch below the surface of what's being celebrated. That means the freedom to romanticise dusty diners and old trucks, but also the responsibility to spotlight the people who’ve been left out of those stories for decades.

If American Eagle wants to keep its crown as the denim of youth culture, it doesn’t need to ditch the road trip fantasy, but maybe this time, it picks up a few more passengers along the way. Because Gen Z doesn’t want to burn the flag, they just want it to mean something more meaningful than slavish adoration for one view of the past.