There’s a misguided notion making the rounds in every corner office and on every social strategy team call these days: the belief that if a brand simply proclaims its “authenticity,” then subcultures will embrace them with arms wide open.
Time and time again, we watch brands hover around the edges of a vibrant subculture like vultures, convinced that they can buy their way in with a borrowed aesthetic, a co-branded capsule collection, or a single hashtag. It’s an ugly truth, but the fact is, Most of these attempts fail, and they fail spectacularly.
Why?
Because the very word “authentic” has become marketing shorthand for “trying too hard.” Authenticity isn’t something a brand can claim; it’s something a community bestows as a response to consistent activity over enough time and without alterior motives. And the reason subcultures hold so much sway, whether we’re talking about streetwear, indie music scenes, or the growing web3 audiences, is that they’ve built their identities painstakingly, piece by piece, often as a reaction against the mainstream.
They can sniff out a corporate appropriation faster than you can say the truth to yourself in the mirror, “We’re just trying to be cool.”
We can point to the recent spate of collaborations between streetwear labels and corporate giants for merch that end up viral for a day and then wasted fabric weeks later.
Many of these feel tone-deaf because the big brand’s contribution is transparently superficial, just slapping their logo on a hoodie or trending product and calling it a day.
Or look at how hospitality brands co-opt local food movements. Throwing a farm-to-table dinner party as a publicity stunt doesn’t endear you to hardcore gastronomes who’ve been attending secret pop-ups long before you caught wind of the trend.
The data is clear, consumers, especially younger audiences, are getting savvier.
According to a recent marketing study, 63% of Gen Z and Millennial consumers are more likely to trust peer recommendations than a brand’s self-professed narrative. These groups navigate social media ecosystems where subcultures thrive organically, and they know when a brand is just jumping on a bandwagon. Every relevant metric, from vanity metrics and brand sentiment, to revenue and quarterly earnings, confirm what we’ve all should know by now:
Trying to reap the benefits of a subculture while LARPING as that subculture is a losing strategy.
So, how does a brand do better?
First, acknowledge that your brand’s place in a subculture is not guaranteed. They do not owe you space, nor do they owe you attention. Instead of barging in with your hand out, listen. Actually listen. Spend real time in the community, whether that’s going through the process of minting an NFT and joining in a discord community, goin general admission to concerts and festivals without an entourage, joining a niche subreddit and adding value rather than hawking products, or investing in genuine long-term relationships with tastemakers who aren’t “influencers” but who clearly are the cultural architects themselves.
Second, offer something of real value to the community, not what you perceive as valuable based on what your needs and wants are. Instead of just parroting what you’ve learned from “social listening,” ask what the community needs that it can’t get or have been in need of support for. Maybe it’s resources, tools, or mentorship for emerging artists. Maybe it’s long-term support of creative spaces or funding experiential events that spotlight local talent. This is about building relationship. Show up consistently, and not just around a product launch. Investment here is measured in years, not weeks.
Third, divorce yourself from the illusion of control. Subcultures shape their own stories. If you do your job right, you’ll earn a place in their narrative, not as a leading character, but as a part of the supporting cast that’s needed to elevate the entire performance.
In the end, authenticity is a track record.
It’s the verifiable proof that your brand’s presence isn’t a fleeting campaign but an enduring commitment to something and someone bigger than any bottomline, award, or performance metric.
When you shed the façade of being “authentic” for marketing’s sake and embrace genuine collaboration with subcultures, you won’t just gain credibility; you’ll forge a relationship that outlasts trend cycles.
That’s what the big win for a brand is at the end of the day anyway.
It’s not in having to constantly tell people how authentic you are or performing collaborations and stunts to prove it.
It’s in never having to say you’re authentic at all.
Because you just are.