Date My Brand: Levi’s
Confessions of a denim loyalist
If brand love were a love language, mine would be denim. And not just any denim—Levi’s.
Here’s why I’m still committed after all these years: Levi’s just gets me. It knows when I’m ready to move on from my skinny jeans phase, when I need a little structure, or when it’s time to loosen up—literally. It’s the kind of relationship where you don’t need to explain your references. You just show up in a pair of classic 501s, and it says everything.
I've been in this relationship for almost two decades—personally, professionally, obsessively. And the spark? Still there. Sure I’ve created campaigns for other denim brands, worn their samples, flirted with shinier offers and higher thread counts. But I always come home to Levi’s.
Because when you’ve been iconic for 170 years, you don’t chase cool. You create it.
The Secret to Our Long-Term Fit
Levi’s has mastered the ultimate relationship skill: staying relevant without losing the thread. It’s not performative. It’s intuitive. The brand equivalent of that friend who knows your coffee order and exactly when to send you a playlist. Or in my case, when to tell me it’s time to retire my 711 Skinny Fit and embrace the Wide-Leg Denim Jumpsuit—with zero judgment, just better options.
I spent nearly a decade inside Levi’s Plaza in San Francisco, and it wasn’t just a workplace—it was an immersive brand experience. Racks of future collections rolling through the halls. Showrooms with styles we wouldn’t see in stores for another two years. The Eureka Innovation lab, where denim tech, sustainability and magic are woven together by experts with indigo-stained hands. The Levi’s Archive—a time machine of cultural history. And the crown jewel: the samples closet. Rivalled only by the mystical one at Vogue.
At Levi’s, people didn’t wear denim to fit in. They wore it because they couldn’t imagine putting on anything else. The denim wasn’t merch—it was identity. Pride. A little bit of rebellion. And a lot of love.
That love ran so deep, I became professionally conditioned to check out butts and ID the Batwing stitching. I could spot a knock-off from across Battery Street (and did, frequently). I even had a line for it: “I love you from the waist down.” My colleagues found it amusing. My friends found it useful for vintage shopping. I found it… scientifically accurate.
Not inappropriate. Just accurate.
Why the Brand’s Soul Never Fades
From Brando and Dean to Hailey and Harry, Levi’s hasn’t just been in culture—it is culture. It outfitted 19th-century miners, became the rebel uniform of the ’50s, scaled the Berlin Wall in the ’80s, and has been stitched into every stage dive and protest since. Talk about range.
Remember the original Laundrette ad in the '80s? The one that made stripping in public look chic, not criminal? When Levi's remade it in 2025 with Beyoncé, Same slow seduction. But now, it's not just about sex appeal—it's about power, play, and owning the moment. Only Levi's could pull that off. Again. With Beyoncé. While making it look effortless.
And the product names? They aren't just SKUs—they're moods with attitude. I've lived in most of them, and let me tell you, they deliver on their promises.
The Wedgie. The Ribcage. The Mile High Super Skinny. These aren't just styles—they're personalities with very specific job descriptions. The Wedgie for when you want your butt to look amazing (which is always, obviously). The Ribcage for when you need that vintage cool-girl vibe but with modern fit tech (AKA the denim girdle). The Mile High for when you're feeling skinny jeans nostalgic but want the updated, "I actually fit in these" experience thanks to genius stretch. It's like having a wardrobe full of reliable friends who each have their own superpower.
One Platform, Endless Love Stories
In the 2000s, Levi’s was that art school hipster boyfriend in too-tight black jeans, defintely in a band, spending way too long discussing politics in a smoky indie cafe. The brand’s Go Forth platform with black and white photography and moody vibe that was genuinely poetic. (Seriously, go back and watch those films.)
But it didn’t get stuck in that aesthetic.
During my time there, Live in Levi’s launched—a simple but brilliant truth: you wear jeans, but you live in Levi’s. It wasn’t just a campaign. It was a declaration. One that built brand equity, not just buzz.
And it worked. Because it wasn’t about selling denim—it was about celebrating what happens in it.
Scaling the Berlin Wall. Crowd surfing at festivals. Falling in love. Breaking up. Everyday moments made extraordinary, just because they happened in Levi’s.
That platform transformed Levi’s from cool niche to cultural mainstay—multi-generational, joyful, unapologetically inclusive. It became the boyfriend the whole family loves—cool enough for your friends, solid enough for your parents, and somehow always knows what to wear.
Why Collabs Can Be the Perfect Match
Levi’s also knows how to mix it up and keep the relationship fresh—surprising you with unexpected partners to try on for size. These collabs are like limited-time flings: playful, exciting, and 100% consensual.
Some of them shouldn’t work—but totally do. I’ve bought pieces from most of these drops, not because I needed them, but because they genuinely made me smile. And in a world where brand partnerships often feel like awkward blind dates, that’s saying something.
Lego. Star Wars. Studio Ghibli. Ganni. Pokémon. New Balance.
The Star Wars collection? It made my inner nerd weep with joy. I can throw on the same classic Boyfriend Trucker I’ve had since uni—or the one with Luke, Leia, and the Millennium Falcon screen-printed on the back—and both feel equally legit. Equally me.
That’s the Levi’s magic: never stuck, never static, never trying too hard. It grows with you, surprises you, but never loses the core DNA that made you fall in love in the first place.
It’s the brand equivalent of someone who keeps things interesting—without ever giving you trust issues.
Values that Don’t Go Out of Style
In 2025, while other brands zigzag after algorithms and quarterly wins, Levi’s doubled down on the fundamentals: fit, quality, authenticity. While most companies were quietly backing away from values-led work (looking at you, corporate America), Levi’s shareholders voted to protect theirs.
Because when you’re this embedded in culture, you can’t fake values. You either show up—or shut up.
And Levi’s showed up. With receipts.
And people noticed. Not because they’re nostalgic for a past they didn’t live through—but because they recognise something real in a world full of brand cosplay. They feel the confidence. The clarity. The consistency.
That’s the kind of brand relationship that lasts. That survives algorithm, trend, political and social changes. That means something.
My Forever Fit
I’m not saying I judge people by their jeans…OK, I absolutely do.
And when someone’s wearing Levi’s? I clock it immediately. The stitching. The fit. The confidence. The Red Tab passes the vibe check every time.
Because we speak the same language—one stitched with authenticity, style, and that quiet assurance of knowing you look good without trying too hard.
I have a pair of 501s from 2015 so perfectly broken in, they’re basically part of my DNA. They’ve survived wine spills, long-haul flights, heartbreaks, promotions, and probably more wash cycles than recommended. They tell my story better than my LinkedIn profile—and they look better doing it.
That’s what Levi’s delivers. Every time.
Whether you’re 16 or 86, slipping into a pair of perfectly broken-in Levi’s feels like coming home to yourself. It’s the sartorial equivalent of a Sunday morning: familiar, relaxed, quietly joyful, and exactly where you want to be.
And that’s why I’m still here. Still loyal. Still in love.
Because some relationships do last.
Some brands are worth the commitment.
And ad platform or personal proclamation, this much is true—I wear jeans. But I live in Levi’s.