Parade Underwear and Socially Conscious Self-Commodification
The company’s progressive branding makes social media influencing permissible to those who may otherwise be ideologically opposed to the practice.
Parade Underwear, an increasingly popular lingerie company that launched in 2019, has seamlessly capitalized on Gen Z’s infatuation with influencers by affording ordinary women the opportunity to experience a brief, knock-off version of Instagram fame. Contributing to the slow but sure normalization of the previously-condemned practice of “selling out,” Parade has employed an extensive ambassador program to promote its products through social media that has achieved great success due to the company’s well-calculated branding strategy.
Whereas the monetization of online identity has traditionally been reserved for celebrities, Parade relies on the aspirations of those lacking the coveted blue checkmark. A majority of the Parade ambassadors on my Instagram feed had between one and two thousand followers at the time of posting and, to my knowledge, have no interest in pursuing careers in social media influencing.
I, and presumably most of you, have become irritated with the increasing prevalence of advertisements on Instagram. In 2012 — the year I created my account — my feed was comprised strictly of my friends’ photos, undisrupted by ads and branded content. Now, not only am I bombarded with unsolicited sponsored advertisements that are tailored to my tastes to the point of frightening accuracy, but my peers have begun to monetize their own posts as well.
Parade has successfully co-opted staunch critics of consumerism to its ambassador program and customer-base by emphasizing their commitment to sustainability and hiring a diverse group of models. Such tactics can insulate the most craven capitalists from criticism by those who preach anti-capitalism. Admittedly, body-type diversity is the reason I switched from Victoria’s Secret to Aerie; and I have justified over-spending at Reformation because of the company’s claims to sustainable, ethical production.
Along with its “Shop” tab and shopping cart icon — both of which are standard elements of the homepages of online commerce sites — Parade’s website features a tab that reads “Our Manifesto,” in which founder and CEO Cami Téllez trumpets the company’s environmentally-friendly and body-positive ethos. It is no coincidence that Téllez uses rhetoric reminiscent of communist literature in describing her for-profit endeavor. Unsurprisingly, this Marxism-meets-high-end-underwear marketing strategy has worked wonders for Parade. It is difficult to imagine members of the social media niche I belong to — an echo-chamber of Gen Z and Millennial liberals and leftists, that is — rallying behind a brand that doesn’t appeal to my age group’s sense of social consciousness.
As it turns out, buying from Parade may truly be one of the most ethical ways to shop for underwear right now. Considering that most people are uncomfortable with the idea of wearing second-hand underwear, buying a pair that is “free from harmful chemicals that pollute your skin and our waters” might be the next best thing. But despite the company’s eager embrace of social issues, it is important to remember that — like all other businesses that exist under capitalism — Parade is ultimately focused on profit above all else.
This isn’t an attempt to bash Parade for its strategic utilization of progressive concepts, or its ambassadors for buying into the program. Who in their right mind would refuse free underwear from a trendy, up-and-coming brand that preaches sustainability and features a diverse range of body types? Not only that, but there are indirect benefits as well, including the sense of validation that comes from a company wanting you as the face of their brand, and an excuse to post a semi-nude photo (not that anyone needs an excuse, but it’s a lot easier build up the courage to pose in your underwear and justify the risqué post when you have one). As for the company itself, Téllez and her team are spot-on in their ability to identify the unique appeal of self-commodification when it is done to promote a supposedly ethical brand.
Parade is not a pioneer of sustainability or body-positivity. Rather, Parade frames fighting for these social causes as their primary purpose, and the consumption of their products as an act of social justice. Ultimately, however, the company functions as any private business does by appealing to the interests of a customer-base from which it sees the potential to generate revenue. It is true that Parade occupies a progressive niche in the market for underwear. However, when progressive ideas weren’t popular enough to function as the underpinnings of a multi-million dollar company’s marketing campaign, we had no choice but to throw our money at Victoria’s Secret. In today’s hyper-political climate, in which progressive ideas are disseminated through social media with unprecedented ease, progressivism is more profitable than ever.
Thus, I am caught between two somewhat conflicting, but not necessarily mutually exclusive, thoughts: First, it’s a hopeful sign that the free market has begun to adjust to Gen Z’s passion for environmental consciousness and growing acceptance of various body-types. And second, Parade’s embrace of these values is, at its core, a hollow response to market trends, making the business unworthy of its progressive acclaim.
