Welcome back to Fetch!
In this month’s issue, I have a confession to make: I have fallen victim to Gap propaganda. See, up until recently, I had never willingly picked up clothes there on a regular basis. I went to a high school that required a uniform, so I would pick up a collared shirt here and there, but that was about it. In my mind, Gap made two things: their iconic hoodies, and clothes that suggested the general idea of a person. Blue jeans, white t-shirts, and other staples, all available at a variety of price points at their sibling locations if you sign up for their wonderful card. I wasn’t knocking it, but I sure wasn’t trying it either.
And then, a milkshake brought all the boys to the yard, and my closet would never be the same again. Between Katseye and Young Miko, it seemed as though Gap was out to get me personally. So, I went to a store during a weekend home, and as I traversed through the aisles, I was shocked. Babydoll tops? Strawberries? GINGHAM? Every brand tries its absolute hardest to understand the generation I’m reluctantly a part of, but why was Gap… actually succeeding? Why did I go back the next weekend chasing that high? How did Gap become… cool again?
There are a few factors behind the Gap explosion. Collaborations with huge Gen Z celebrities and brands like Summer Fridays play a role in the “cool” factor, but the resurgence is built on something deeper: an intoxicating combination of a signature aesthetic and some serious nostalgia bait. The Gap identity is simple, classic, and reliable: they’ve been a mid-priced option for decades, a household name in the realm of back-to-school shopping. This simplicity is best exemplified in their now-iconic commercials, with the big empty room and the incredibly talented dancers, the focus placed solely on the face of the campaign dressed head-to-toe in the latest style that’s both desirable and accessible.
And of course, nostalgia is the Chemical X of marketing: from khakis to long and lean jeans, Gap dominated the 90’s and 2000’s, the two decades that Gen Z yearns for the most because they just missed them. By capitalizing on this nostalgia by re-releasing old styles and setting commercials to classic throwback songs, Gap succeeds in blending the old with the new, selling their classic hoodie alongside the ever-desirable bag charm. While my mom was picking through the stack of linen pants and the clearance rack, I was picking up wide-leg jeans and trying not to freak out over the giant poster of Young Miko (you know the one).
And I thought to myself: this is how they get you.
When Gap was first founded in 1969, it adapted its name to fulfill a noble goal: to address the generational “Gap” between young hippies and their parents, selling quality jeans and other basics in San Francisco. As their clientele grew older, they grew with them, incorporating dress shirts and khakis into the Gap identity. Then came the supermodel era, and then the period that I’m most familiar with, which I lovingly referred to as “back-to-school essentials.” And with other stores under their label offering items at varying price points (Old Navy, Gap, and Banana Republic), their clothes were truly for everyone – even moms and daughters with opposite styles.
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