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Advertisers have long toggled between two equally potent impulses: reflecting social change and relying on tried-and-true formulas. In the early 1980s, Calvin Klein sparked outrage (and blockbuster sales) with a 15-year-old purring, “Nothing comes between me and my Calvins.â€� This, seen through today’s lens, seem impossible to air, yet the underlying playbook, pairing a buzzy celebrity with a hint of transgression, still delivers attention. Calvin Klein recently papered Times Square with photos of “The Bear’s” in nothing but briefs. Different decades and gender, same strategy: a recognizable face, and some headlines.

Which brings us to the paradox. Over the past decade, marketing departments have invested heavily in diversity, equity and inclusion. Casts are broader, skin tones richer, body shapes more varied than ever before. This shift was genuine and, when executed thoughtfully, long overdue. At the same time, the human brain remains a storytelling machine wired to notice sexual cues, celebrity and controversy. So brands keep one eye on changing social norms and another on the timeless triggers that move product off shelves.

Two things can be true at once: meaningful strides in representation and a well-worn playbook that still leans on aspirational bodies.

For mainstream audiences, the real question is not whether advertisers should court controversy (they will) or celebrate diversity (they must). The question is what happens when those impulses collide. American Eagle, like any retailer, ultimately answers to its ledger. If Sweeney’s spot drives traffic and converts browsers to buyers, investors will continue to cheer, no matter how many angry posts it provokes. And the MAGA ecosystem will double down on praising Sweeney as the definition of “.�

Some Gen Z women dismiss it as cringe, and many diversity and inclusion advocates are outraged; others see it, laugh, and still add the jeans to their online carts. Meanwhile, the backlash may be the best free media American Eagle has had in years. Outrage garners clicks, and clicks beget curiosity. In the attention economy, even detractors can become unwitting amplifiers.

What we can say with confidence is that advertising’s mirror has grown more complex. It reflects, refracts and rebounds instantly. Brands must now anticipate not one audience reaction but dozens, each filtered through political beliefs, lived experience and online echo chambers.

Ogilvy was half right: ads still hold up a glass to who we are. Sometimes it flatters, sometimes it distorts, and sometimes it persuades us to part with $89 for a pair Syd’s Pick blue jeans that promise, however fleetingly, to fit both our bodies, our beliefs and aspirations. Until they no longer do.