The pop culture branding explosion

From to Shrek eyeshadow to Squid Game whisky, nothing is left untouched by IP.

Tonight’s the night. To get ready, you pour yourself a glass of Johnnie Walker Squid Game whisky and comb your hair with your Beetlejuice-branded hairbrush. You spritz yourself liberally with your “Dobby™ Is A Free Elf” body spray and apply some Bridgerton lip gloss. It’s a shame the Batman-themed fine dining restaurant you used to love closed down before earning the Michelin star it was after, but at least you have your packet of Minecraft Doritos in your Disney x Gucci bag. Besides, you’re still pretty full from your Beauty and the Beast-themed afternoon tea at the Waldorf Hilton hotel. You check your phone and feel excitement bubble up in your belly. The Swarovski Minion on your shelf glints approvingly. It’s time! You’re off to a Wallace and Gromit rave.

I don’t believe that anyone alive has experienced the above evening, but I’m slightly unnerved by the fact they could. The top ten highest grossing movies of 2024 were all sequels, and it’s no secret that we live in the era of reboots and remakes. But it’s not just movie studios who have realised that existing IP – that is, intellectual property – is easy money. From crisps to luxury handbags to whisky, nothing has remained untouched by popular culture: not restaurants, not bars, not clubs. Anything can now be slapped with IP; everything in the world reduced to a Happy Meal toy.

I don’t mean to insult anyone who uses Shrek eyeshadow or goes to a Mamma Mia! immersive restaurant. (I myself am a pop culture fiend who owns three items of clothing featuring Bart Simpson and, also, a pair of earrings shaped like his head.) No one is especially wrong to like what they like, but I do think we should question how fandom is being exploited for a quick buck. Big businesses don’t have to create movies or club nights or perfumes that are good in and of themselves anymore, because they can just stick a recognisable character on the front. Why bother designing anything new or exciting when a familiar logo will do the job?

In February, Netflix opened its own restaurant in Las Vegas, serving Emily in Paris steak frites and Stranger Things chicken wings alongside Love is Blind cocktails. The Google reviews are damning: with an average rating of 3.2 stars, diners have called the food “bland”, “subpar”, “overpriced” and even labelled one dish “barely edible”. Later this year, the streaming company also plans to open “Netflix houses” in Dallas and Pennsylvania – these “experiential entertainment venues” promise to bring TV shows to life, while also allowing fans to “indulge in retail therapy”, buying uniforms from fictional high schools, jackets worn by their favourite trauma victim and even wine glasses featured on reality TV. We are now living inside a live-action remake. You can eat your Netflix dinner in your Netflix merch before embarking on your Netflix night out.

I fear what we could lose in service of this rabid homogenisation. Will people see the value of a symphony orchestra that isn’t playing the Top Gun: Maverick soundtrack? Will historic tours of London be able to compete with the Paddington Bear afternoon tea bus? Many ideas about “highbrow” and “lowbrow” culture are antiquated, but surely we can’t allow the latter to completely devour the former? At times, IP even renders art meaningless: We have become such uncritical consumers that at TV show satirising the ultra-wealthy can partner with a luxury suitcase brand. The White Lotus x Away suitcases retail for up to $485 (£405) – or they did, before they quickly sold out.

The IP-ification of everything ultimately serves hyper-consumption: you might not need a new hairbrush, but can you be tempted by a nostalgic one featuring Kermit the Frog. You already have ten eyeshadow palettes, but you don’t have one that comes in a House of the Dragon branded egg. There are only so many plain hoodies Primark can sell a year, so thank goodness Greggs agreed to put their logo on the front of some of them. That’s to say nothing of the growing empire of Marks & Spencer’s Percy Pig.

Of course brand licensing isn’t new – some say Beatrix Potter started it, and it exploded in the 1970s, when Mr Men yoghurts, Paddington Bear wastepaper baskets and Star Wars bubble bath became commonplace. But while we once used cute characters to encourage kids to eat their yoghurts and have their baths, they have now become an easy substitute for quality, a fast way to get adults to buy more stuff they don’t need.

I am not inherently against the so-called “kidult” trend – I think all adults need to foster childlike joy in their lives. But you don’t need to buy anything new to do this. It’s amazing how successfully major corporations have convinced us that they are a balm for modern ills, instead of the cause of them. “Adults buying kids’ toys to escape global turmoil,” ran a BBC headline last year – a consumer expert touted the “positive mental health benefits” of collectibles. Might the proliferation of plastic tat – and the ever-increasing resources that it demands – have anything to do with “global turmoil”?

With every astonishingly poor and frankly ugly Disney remake, I wonder: how long this can go on? How long will we gobble up garbage just because its familiar and nostalgic? If that sounds offensive to Disney or Netflix superfans, I invite you to question why insulting a major corporation feels like insulting a person? Out of everyone, fans should demand “better” instead of just “more”. Nor should it be considered snobby to say that we should all seek identities outside of the things we consume.

Nowhere is safe from the intrusion of branding. I’ve seen American schools teach children to read via logo – “A is for Amazon” – and even throw Starbucks-themed activity days. In a perverse way, I look forward to seeing what will emerge next. Pets genetically engineered to look like Pixar characters? Harry Potter paracetamol that will magic your pain away? Squid Game detention facilities? Star Wars therapy? Barbie assisted suicide? Immersive birthing rooms where your midwife is dressed as Mickey Mouse? Selling out is dead and selling is thriving. Creating is a thing of the past – recreating is where the money lies.