This whole scene got me thinking: How did we get here? How did we go from buying a product to actually getting excited about wearing it, like it was concert merch or band swag?
I am not a fashionable guy. Where some fashion brands pay good money to have celebrities wear their products, most major fashion brands pay me not to wear their clothes, and some have even put a restraining order out on me so that I am not allowed within 500 feet of their shorts. It’s okay; my tastes are simple, a few black tees and a clown suit, and I’m ready to go.
But seriously, I have never been one to deck my body with brand wear. I don't have clothes with fancy labels, and that’s okay with me. But I found myself in a curious place recently, and it made me think about brands and the new wave of marketing.
I was standing in Taco Bell, which’s not the strange place, believe me, I have frequented the business often, in fact, I was once pulled over by the cops under suspicion of drunk driving, and when I did the test, they discovered that my blood alcohol was 0%, but my blood taco sauce level 0.30%. I knew Taco Bell, and I was there to give my treasonous body exactly what it deserved.
As I was checking out, paying for my huge sack of “food,” I noticed a display case with a handwritten sign reading “merch.” Hats. T-shirts, koozies, and the like, all with the Taco Bell logo. Some had that dog on them, and others were adorned with cartoon images of tacos, burritos, and whatever fair was on offer. I picked up a T-shirt, and immediately, the young person behind the counter said: “Rad choice, dude, that’s a classic.” I made a mental note to have my name legally changed to ‘dude’ because I so adored the way it slipped from the pimple-encrusted mouth of this lad. “A classic?” I said, “A classic what?”
He went on to tell me that the T-shirt was in the classic original Taco Bell colors and that I would show my love of Taco Bell to the world by wearing it. “Doesn’t the fact that my gut hangs down and obscures my fly, plus my pre-diabetic body shape and the fact that I was out of breath opening my car door show the world my love for Taco Bell?” He had no reply, just stood there blank-faced, and then asked if I wanted the T-shirt. When I told him no, I didn’t need anyone knowing that I was a Taco Bell fan, he replied, “Well, you could wear it ironically?”
I … I have no idea what that meant or how I would pull it off. Suffice it to say, I didn’t buy the T-shirt; however, a small gathering of teenagers entered and ran to the “merch” display and became thrilled. One of them picked up the “classic” Taco Bell T-shirt and turned to the rest of them, “This is awesome,” he assured them,” we should all get one, and we can wear them on Saturday!”
I had no idea what was happening on Saturday, but this group was going to attend Saturday’s event, all decked out in their vintage Taco Bell T-shirts. The scene felt like I was watching something more than just a fast food visit; it was as if these teens were preparing for a gathering, the kind where you wear your concert merchandise proudly. This wasn't just a food run to a fast food joint that sells things I term PCTF - Pretty Close To Food- which is exactly what it feels like. It was as if they were getting ready for an event that transcended the meal itself, almost like going to a Neil Diamond concert, only the merch was Taco Bell, and the "tour" was a pop-up event, not a live performance.
This whole scene got me thinking: How did we get here? How did we go from buying a product to actually getting excited about wearing it, like it was concert merch or band swag? For these teens, it wasn’t just a T-shirt—it was a ticket to something bigger. It was part of a larger shift—a trend I like to call the concertification of branding, where our purchases extend beyond the product and begin to feel more like joining a fan club.
The Rise of Concertification in Branding
In the past, brands sold products, and consumers bought them for their utility. Simple, right? But over the years, a subtle yet powerful shift has occurred. Brands have moved beyond the product itself and into the realm of experience. Companies today, from Taco Bell to Liquid Death, are selling more than just goods; they're offering lifestyles, attitudes, and, yes, merch—lots of it.
This shift is what I like to call the concertification of branding. Simply put, concertification refers to the transformation of a brand from just a product or service into a full-fledged experience, complete with the type of fanfare, excitement, and exclusive merchandise you’d expect at a concert. Just like a rock band builds a following through live shows and branded merch, companies are now doing the same by turning their products into cultural events that consumers want to be a part of.
It wasn’t always this way. Think back to when a T-shirt was just a T-shirt, and a logo was a simple badge of authenticity. But now, branding has become an extension of identity. The rise of concertification is a strategic pivot that’s been in the making for decades.
This shift is rooted in the idea that today’s consumers are no longer just buyers; they’re fans, or at least, they want to feel like they are. It all started when companies began to realize the power of creating a community around their brand. Apple, for instance, doesn’t just sell devices; it sells a culture of innovation, a way of life, and even a sense of exclusivity. When you buy an iPhone, you’re not just buying a phone—you’re buying into a broader cultural movement that promotes style, simplicity, and a tech-driven future.
Similarly, brands like Supreme have mastered the art of selling exclusivity and creating buzz around every drop of their limited-edition merchandise. The idea is simple: scarcity breeds desire. By treating their merchandise like concert tour merch, these brands generate excitement, anticipation, and most importantly, loyalty. Fans become more than just consumers; they’re participants in an ongoing event—an ever-evolving show where the brand is both the star and the backstage pass.
Taco Bell’s move into the concertification game isn’t a random one. The fast food chain has built a reputation for its quirky, meme-worthy social media presence and out-of-the-box stunts, including pop-up shops, collaborations, and yes, that merch line I found myself so curious about. They’ve tapped into the culture of “brand as experience,” where buying a burrito is just the beginning. You’re also buying the chance to be part of something larger—a movement that’s playful, irreverent, and very much in tune with youth culture.
And then there's Liquid Death, a water company that has turned the concept of hydration into an act of rebellion. The brand has embraced its “metal” identity so fully that even the product itself feels like it belongs on a stage, not a grocery store shelf. With their merch line including everything from T-shirts to skateboards, Liquid Death is giving fans a way to wear their love for the brand in the same way they might wear a band tee—loud, bold, and unapologetic.
So, how did we get here? How did branding evolve from simply selling products to creating immersive experiences that blur the lines between fandom and consumerism? The answer lies in the recognition that today’s consumer doesn’t just want a product—they want to be a part of something bigger. And by offering a tangible piece of that culture in the form of merch, brands are solidifying their place as icons, not just vendors. This is the rise of concertification in branding, where the merch is as much a part of the experience as the product itself.
And by offering a tangible piece of that culture in the form of merch, brands are solidifying their place as icons, not just vendors. This is the rise of concertification in branding, where the merch is as much a part of the experience as the product itself.
But this shift goes beyond just the products and the merch. It’s about identity, community, and loyalty—factors that are becoming increasingly central to the way brands are building relationships with consumers. So, how does selling merch actually shape a brand’s identity, and what role does it play in creating a fan base? In the next section, we’ll explore how this trend is transforming brand identity from simple logos to cult-like followings, and why it matters to both brands and their customers.
Brand Identity Reinvented: From Products to Cults
In the past, a brand’s identity was largely tied to its product. If you bought Coca-Cola, you were buying more than just soda—you were buying the taste that’s been a staple for over a century. But as the concept of concertification has evolved, so too has the notion of brand identity. It’s no longer just about the product you’re selling; it’s about creating a culture, a movement, and even a lifestyle that people want to align with. And for brands, this means their identity isn’t static—it’s constantly evolving, influenced by the very people who buy into it.
Today’s brands are more like cults than companies, cultivating rabid, loyal followings who wear their logos like a badge of honor. It’s a phenomenon we see in brands like Apple, Supreme, and now Taco Bell—companies that are redefining what it means to belong to a brand. For these companies, it’s no longer just about a logo or a product but the emotions and experiences that people associate with them. When you buy a product, you’re buying into a culture. You’re saying, "I belong to this," or "This is my tribe."
Apple's cult following is one of the best examples of how brand identity transcends the product itself. Apple isn’t just about phones, tablets, or computers. It’s about the promise of simplicity, innovation, and being part of an exclusive club. The white headphones once became a symbol of Apple's identity—if you were wearing them, you weren’t just listening to music; you were sending a message about who you were. When you bought an Apple product, you weren’t just getting the technology; you were getting the status and belonging that came with it.
Similarly, Supreme has turned what was once a small streetwear brand into a global icon. They’ve perfected the art of scarcity marketing by dropping exclusive, limited-edition items that often sell out in minutes; Supreme has turned every piece of merch into a coveted treasure. Their fans don’t just want the clothes; they want the experience. The limited-run designs and drops create a sense of urgency, making their loyal customers feel like they’re part of something rare, something exclusive. This sense of exclusivity is what gives Supreme its cult-like following, with people willing to line up for hours just to get their hands on the next drop.
Taco Bell’s foray into branded merch is a great example of how this shift in brand identity works on a smaller, more accessible scale. The Taco Bell fanbase isn’t the same as Apple or Supreme, but the concept is similar. Taco Bell’s brand identity is one of fun, irreverence, and nostalgia. When people buy Taco Bell merch, it’s about more than just the food. It’s about showing off your love for the brand and its playful, lighthearted persona. It’s about being a part of something bigger than a meal—it's a statement of your personality, your sense of humor, and your affinity for the quirky and the unexpected.
These examples highlight a shift in how brands are evolving into cultural icons, tapping into our deeper need to belong. With loyalty becoming a currency in today’s consumer landscape, the question becomes: How do brands keep these fanbases engaged and loyal, especially when those fans might not be motivated solely by the product itself? It’s a balancing act of identity, exclusivity, and experience that continues to shape how brands connect with their audience.
Consumer Loyalty Through Fandom
At its core, the concertification of branding isn’t just about selling products—it’s about building relationships. When brands create an identity that consumers can latch onto, they don’t just create customers; they create loyal fans. It’s a shift from transactional exchanges to long-term relationships where loyalty isn’t just earned through great products but through emotional connections.
Consider the way music fans stick with their favorite bands, buying albums, attending shows, and proudly sporting tour shirts. That’s the kind of devotion brands are now striving for. In this world, a T-shirt isn’t just fabric with a logo; it’s a symbol of belonging, an indicator that you’re part of an exclusive club. You’re not just consuming—you’re participating, and you’re showing off your participation to the world.
Take Apple, for example. Apple doesn’t just sell tech products; it sells the feeling of being part of an elite group. The loyalty its customer's display isn't simply a result of product quality, but of the identity, the brand has cultivated. Apple users don’t just enjoy their devices—they defend the brand with an almost cult-like passion. The “I’m a Mac” versus “I’m a PC” rivalry didn’t just sell computers—it created a division, a sense of camaraderie among those who chose Apple. Their loyalty is part of their identity, and they wear it proudly.
This loyalty isn’t just about the products themselves but about the experience they provide. Whether it’s the thrill of being first in line for a new iPhone or the pride of owning a piece of limited-edition merch, these fans are invested in the brand’s identity. It’s a mutual relationship—the brand provides exclusivity and community, and in return, the fans offer their undying loyalty and support.
Taco Bell’s shift toward selling merch plays on this very dynamic. For fans of the fast food chain, the connection goes beyond just food—it’s a part of their identity. Taco Bell has managed to position itself as a brand that isn’t just about the burritos and tacos but about fun, youthful rebellion, and embracing the absurd. By tapping into the collective memory of youth culture, Taco Bell turns its loyal customers into superfans, excited to display their brand pride through T-shirts, hats, and even more outlandish items.
It’s not just about satisfying a craving; it’s about making a statement. And with each piece of branded merch, Taco Bell deepens the bond with its fans, reinforcing their identity as part of the Taco Bell “community.” Fans of the brand aren’t just eating food—they’re participating in a cultural moment. And that sense of ownership over the brand’s identity keeps them coming back, not just for the product, but for the experience, the connection, and the ability to proudly display their fandom.
In the world of brand fandom, the transaction isn’t just for a product—it’s for the emotional connection that comes with it. Brands like Apple, Supreme, and Taco Bell aren’t just selling merchandise; they’re selling identity. And in doing so, they’re turning customers into brand evangelists who wear their loyalty as a badge of honor, reinforcing the cultural and emotional ties that keep them engaged.
In the world of brand fandom, the transaction isn’t just for a product—it’s for the emotional connection that comes with it. Brands like Apple, Supreme, and Taco Bell aren’t just selling merchandise; they’re selling identity. And in doing so, they’re turning customers into brand evangelists who wear their loyalty as a badge of honor, reinforcing the cultural and emotional ties that keep them engaged.
But this emotional investment in a brand goes deeper than just wearing a T-shirt or using a product. It taps into something even more fundamental: the psychology behind why we buy into brands, and why we sometimes find ourselves not just consuming but collecting, displaying, and even defending these brands. Understanding this psychology is key to understanding why people buy brand-related merch, not just as consumers, but as fans and members of a tribe.
The Psychology of Buying Brand-Related Merch
So, why do we buy brand-related merch? At its core, purchasing merch is about more than just acquiring a product—it’s about fulfilling psychological needs that go beyond utility. It’s about status, belonging, and identity. Whether it's a concert tee, a limited-edition hoodie, or even a branded water bottle, the act of buying branded merchandise taps into our deeper emotional drives, making it far more personal than most of us realize.
One of the primary psychological drivers behind the purchase of brand merch is the need for social status. Just like owning a luxury watch or a high-end car signals wealth or success, wearing a brand’s logo can signal something about who we are, what we value, and the groups we belong to. For instance, a Supreme hoodie isn’t just a piece of clothing—it’s a signal to others that you're part of an exclusive club, someone who “gets it.” It’s not just about wearing a logo but about projecting the right image and aligning yourself with the values the brand represents.
The idea of belonging is another powerful motivator. When you wear branded merch, you’re not just displaying a logo—you’re showing that you’re part of a community. It’s the same reason fans wear band T-shirts at concerts or sport team jerseys on game days. It’s a way of publicly demonstrating your loyalty to a brand and aligning yourself with its culture. For brands like Taco Bell, it’s not just about enjoying the food; it’s about embracing the brand's irreverent, fun-loving persona. Those who buy Taco Bell merch are showing that they belong to a unique community that celebrates humor, playfulness, and an unapologetic love of fast food.
But the psychological appeal doesn’t stop there. Identity plays a huge role in why we buy branded merch. Many people wear branded clothing or buy specific products because those items help them express who they are. Our possessions become extensions of our identity—whether it’s the tech we use, the clothes we wear, or the brands we support. When someone buys an Apple product, they aren’t just buying a phone—they’re buying into the identity of innovation, exclusivity, and style. Similarly, when someone sports a Taco Bell tee, they’re embracing an identity of rebellion, youth, and fun.
This connection between identity and consumerism is part of a broader trend toward self-expression. In an increasingly individualistic society, where personal brands are becoming as important as professional ones, we often use the products we buy to express who we are and what we stand for. Branded merchandise provides an easy way to visually broadcast our allegiances and values, creating a sense of pride in our choices.
There’s also the influence of tribalism at play. As humans, we have a deep-seated need to belong to groups—whether it’s a cultural, social, or fandom group. When we buy into a brand, we’re often joining a larger tribe, one that shares certain values, beliefs, or interests. This is especially powerful when it comes to brands that emphasize exclusivity or scarcity, like Supreme or Liquid Death. The feeling of being “in the know” or part of an elite group is a strong motivator for many consumers, pushing them to buy products that reinforce their membership in a coveted tribe.
But what about the irony in some purchases? The concept of buying something "ironically" has become a cultural phenomenon, particularly among younger generations. People will purchase items that they might not traditionally identify with simply because it’s funny, subversive, or unexpected. This, in itself, taps into deeper desires for cultural capital—being in on the joke, knowing what’s “cool” before everyone else, and getting to display that knowledge to the world. It’s a way of saying, "I’m aware, I get it, and I can take part in this cultural moment even if I’m not fully committed."
Whether it’s through social status, identity, or belonging, the psychology behind buying branded merch speaks to our human need for connection and self-expression. When we wear a brand’s logo, it’s about more than just the item itself—it’s about what that item represents in the context of our lives and how it connects us to others. And as brands continue to play into these psychological drives, their merch isn’t just a product—it’s an invitation into a cultural experience.
The psychology behind buying brand-related merch taps into our deepest desires for status, belonging, and identity. Whether it's the need for cultural capital or the drive for self-expression, the act of purchasing branded products is about much more than simply acquiring goods—it’s about joining a larger cultural movement.
This blurred line between consumerism and fandom raises another key question: As brands continue to build these cult-like followings, where does the balance lie between cultivating loyalty and exploiting the very emotions they’ve tapped into? How far can brands push this sense of belonging before it becomes a form of manipulation? And more importantly, how do consumers navigate the shift from simply buying a product to buying into an experience? These questions are at the heart of the fandom versus consumerism debate that’s shaping the future of branding.
Fandom vs. Consumerism: Blurring the Lines
As the lines between fandom and consumerism continue to blur, it’s becoming harder to distinguish where loyalty ends and purchasing begins. The concertification of branding has created a world where buying a product feels like joining a fan club and wearing a brand's logo has become a symbol of your allegiance to a larger cultural movement. But the question is, are we truly fans—or are we just consumers being sold an experience?
On one hand, there's the undeniable appeal of being part of something bigger. We’ve always had a natural desire to belong to groups, whether it's through music, sports, or shared interests. For decades, fans have worn band tees or team jerseys to show their loyalty and membership. But now, brands are tapping into this same tribal instinct, creating "communities" of consumers who feel connected not just to a product but to the very essence of what the brand represents. This is where it gets tricky—what was once fandom has become part of a larger consumer landscape, where companies are marketing not just products but entire identities.
Take Taco Bell’s merch, for instance. Is it just fast food, or is it an identity? When someone buys a Taco Bell T-shirt, they're not just getting a piece of clothing—they’re joining a larger movement. The brand’s irreverent and youthful persona makes consumers feel like they’re part of an exclusive group that celebrates fun, quirky humor, and fast food nostalgia. For many, wearing that merch isn't just about their love of tacos; it’s about showing the world that they align with that carefree, irreverent spirit. But isn’t this still just consumerism dressed up as fandom?
The same can be said for brands like Liquid Death, where the line between fan and consumer is razor-thin. Liquid Death’s entire brand identity revolves around a "rebellious" spirit, using its punk-rock, metal-inspired aesthetic to cultivate a loyal fanbase. People don’t just buy water—they buy into the idea of subverting norms, rejecting the status quo, and having fun while doing it. The brand positions itself as a cultural symbol, offering more than just hydration—it’s offering a lifestyle, an attitude, and a way to feel like you’re part of something that’s “different.” But is this truly fandom, or is it a highly sophisticated form of consumerism disguised by the allure of rebellion?
This concept of "ironic" fandom adds yet another layer to the conversation. The idea of purchasing something ironically, like a Taco Bell shirt or a branded hoodie, speaks to the growing sense that people are acutely aware of being marketed to—and they’re in on the joke. By wearing something ironically, you’re making a statement about not taking yourself too seriously, even as you're still participating in the brand's larger narrative. It’s a cultural paradox: you’re buying into a brand's identity while simultaneously rejecting the idea that you're being sold to. It’s this contradiction that makes the lines between fandom and consumerism even murkier.
The problem arises when brands push this model too far, blurring the lines between loyalty and manipulation. As companies continue to feed on the emotional connections they’ve fostered with fans, the question becomes: How much of this is genuine, and how much is a sophisticated marketing ploy? It’s one thing for a consumer to choose a brand because it aligns with their values, but it’s another when a brand creates an environment where those values are so closely intertwined with the products themselves that it becomes difficult to discern where the brand ends and the consumer begins.
The key to navigating this blurred space lies in understanding that consumers, despite their emotional connection to a brand, still have the agency to choose. While brands may create the illusion of community and fandom, it’s the consumers who decide if they’re part of the fanbase or just buying the latest limited-edition item. But as this trend grows, one thing is clear: the future of branding may well depend on whether companies can walk the fine line between engaging their fans and not crossing over into exploitation.
The complex dynamics between fandom and consumerism reveal just how intricately brands have woven themselves into the fabric of our lives. While brands like Taco Bell and Liquid Death successfully cultivate loyalty and community, they also raise important questions about the balance between genuine connection and consumer manipulation. As this trend grows, we’re left to consider how brands will continue to navigate this fine line.
Ultimately, the concertification of branding isn’t just about creating fans—it’s about creating lasting emotional connections. The real challenge for brands lies in maintaining that balance, ensuring they don’t stray too far into exploitation while still keeping consumers engaged. So, what do brands owe to their fans, and how can they continue to build these unique, fan-driven experiences without crossing the line?
Summing Up: The Future of Merch and Brand Identity
The concertification of branding has blurred the lines between consumerism and fandom, transforming products into symbols of identity, loyalty, and belonging. Brands today are no longer just selling items; they’re selling experiences, emotions, and cultures that people want to align with. From Taco Bell’s playful, irreverent persona to Liquid Death’s rebellious spirit, brands are weaving themselves into the very fabric of our social identities.
But as the lines continue to blur, the question remains: What do brands owe to their fans? It’s one thing to build a community around your product; it’s another to ensure that community is engaged in a genuine, meaningful way without exploiting the very emotional connections you’ve worked so hard to cultivate. Brands must continue to walk a fine line, balancing the need for loyalty with the risk of manipulation.
This is where ThoughtLab’s approach to branding offers valuable insight. ThoughtLab emphasizes the importance of authentic connection, placing brands at the intersection of purpose, consumer relationships, and social impact. Rather than pushing for manipulation through flashy campaigns or exploitative tactics, ThoughtLab advocates for a deeper, more responsible way of building brand loyalty—one that’s rooted in trust, transparency, and a genuine understanding of what consumers need and value. By focusing on purpose and authenticity, brands can avoid crossing that line and instead foster lasting, meaningful connections with their audiences.
As we look toward the future, the challenge for brands will be to stay true to their identities, continuously innovate without compromising their values, and cultivate fan bases that are not just loyal consumers but also passionate, engaged communities. The concertification of branding is here to stay, but how brands handle it will determine whether their loyal fans stay with them for the long haul or simply fade away after the tour ends.
