Sydney Sweeney’s Jeans Ad Ignites Culture War—Trump Cheers, Critics Fume

Paul Riverbank, 2/10/2026Sydney Sweeney’s American Eagle campaign turned a cheeky denim pun into a cultural flashpoint, igniting debate and record sales—underscoring how, in 2024, even playful ads can become national talking points at the intersection of celebrity, identity, and commerce.

Here’s how it started: a playful bit of wordplay—"Sydney Sweeney Has Great Jeans"—landed on the internet. Predictable? Maybe at first. But if there’s anything the last few years have proved, it’s that nothing stays simple for long in the world of viral marketing. The ad, equal parts deadpan and wink, let Sweeney muse about inherited traits with a punchline landing on the color of her jeans. Blue, if you missed it.

Most people watched, smirked, maybe texted a friend. But the internet, being what it is in 2024, spun different stories. Critics scoured the campaign. The joke—tying genetics to jeans, literally—provoked unease for some, veering (as debates do these days) into everything from body image anxieties to historical red flags. Looking back, perhaps any slogan with genetic undertones was destined to take on more weight than a simple denim endorsement.

American Eagle’s response? They didn’t try to rewrite the narrative. Jay Schottenstein, steering the ship as CEO and Chairman, stuck to his guns. “It’s about jeans,” he said, echoing the company’s official statements. Their numbers gave him room to be blunt—over 44 billion campaign impressions, record-smashing sales, the kind of metrics that would give pause to even the most skeptical boardroom.

Still, this wasn’t just a boardroom matter. What fueled the fire further was an unprompted shout-out from Donald Trump—Sweeney’s Republican registration, leaked into the conversation, gave the presidential hopeful a chance to praise her “hottest” ad. If that felt like a detour into the political, the campaign itself remained stubbornly apolitical. Schottenstein, with a known record supporting inclusivity, issued a line: "Her jeans. Her story. We’ll keep celebrating AE jeans however people wear them." Notably, neither the company nor Sweeney herself lent the campaign any explicit political coloring.

Despite the periodic uproar—a swirl of social media friction and thinkpiece speculation—the sales kept climbing. Far from retreating, AE doubled down: NFL star Travis Kelce joined the lineup, as did a high-profile partnership with Lamine Yamal. The message was clear. In a digital moment where even a pun can spiral into a referendum on culture, identity, and taste, American Eagle decided to ride the wave, not duck beneath it.

If the last year’s denim saga proved anything, it’s that there’s no such thing as “just an ad” anymore. Every campaign, intentionally or not, tiptoes along new lines—between honest fun and deep commentary, between harmless slogans and possible controversy. In American Eagle’s case, the jeans—and let’s not forget, the jeans are, in the end, what all the fuss was for—continue to fly off shelves. Fabric and wordplay, it turns out, make for potent business.

The clamor inside the New York Stock Exchange felt electric—camera flashes ricocheted off the marble as Sydney Sweeney, best known for her breakout moments in “Euphoria,” slipped into the spotlight. She wasn’t there for another ceremonial ribbon-cutting, nor to suffer through polite applause from uninterested financiers. Instead, she was the human catalyst behind a runaway denim campaign that’s now as controversial as it is successful.Here’s how it started: a playful bit of wordplay—"Sydney Sweeney Has Great Jeans"—landed on the internet. Predictable? Maybe at first. But if there’s anything the last few years have proved, it’s that nothing stays simple for long in the world of viral marketing. The ad, equal parts deadpan and wink, let Sweeney muse about inherited traits with a punchline landing on the color of her jeans. Blue, if you missed it.Most people watched, smirked, maybe texted a friend. But the internet, being what it is in 2024, spun different stories. Critics scoured the campaign. The joke—tying genetics to jeans, literally—provoked unease for some, veering (as debates do these days) into everything from body image anxieties to historical red flags. Looking back, perhaps any slogan with genetic undertones was destined to take on more weight than a simple denim endorsement.American Eagle’s response? They didn’t try to rewrite the narrative. Jay Schottenstein, steering the ship as CEO and Chairman, stuck to his guns. “It’s about jeans,” he said, echoing the company’s official statements. Their numbers gave him room to be blunt—over 44 billion campaign impressions, record-smashing sales, the kind of metrics that would give pause to even the most skeptical boardroom.Still, this wasn’t just a boardroom matter. What fueled the fire further was an unprompted shout-out from Donald Trump—Sweeney’s Republican registration, leaked into the conversation, gave the presidential hopeful a chance to praise her “hottest” ad. If that felt like a detour into the political, the campaign itself remained stubbornly apolitical. Schottenstein, with a known record supporting inclusivity, issued a line: "Her jeans. Her story. We’ll keep celebrating AE jeans however people wear them." Notably, neither the company nor Sweeney herself lent the campaign any explicit political coloring.Despite the periodic uproar—a swirl of social media friction and thinkpiece speculation—the sales kept climbing. Far from retreating, AE doubled down: NFL star Travis Kelce joined the lineup, as did a high-profile partnership with Lamine Yamal. The message was clear. In a digital moment where even a pun can spiral into a referendum on culture, identity, and taste, American Eagle decided to ride the wave, not duck beneath it.If the last year’s denim saga proved anything, it’s that there’s no such thing as “just an ad” anymore. Every campaign, intentionally or not, tiptoes along new lines—between honest fun and deep commentary, between harmless slogans and possible controversy. In American Eagle’s case, the jeans—and let’s not forget, the jeans are, in the end, what all the fuss was for—continue to fly off shelves. Fabric and wordplay, it turns out, make for potent business.