The Supreme Scheme

For three years, my Thursday morning routine remained the same: Wake up, take a shower, get dressed, eat breakfast, and then sit on my phone with angst. My hands would break out into a cold sweat, anxiously waiting to click the refresh button right at 8 A.M. Like thousands around the world, I had become a slave to the clothing brand Supreme. With  "drops" of new, highly-desirable clothing every Thursday at 8 A.M., thousands sit on Supreme's web store in hopes of being able to purchase just one item before the weekly inventory sells out in a matter of minutes, if not seconds. It was only just recently that I finally broke away from this terrible habit. Now that I am no longer obsessed with Supreme, I've decided to look into how a tiny skate shop in New York grew into the marketing monster that it is today.

Through social media, and skating magazines, Supreme delivers slick marketing that is viewed by millions. All the brand has to do is post a simple image of a model wearing its clothing, and people will immediately begin anticipating the release of the advertised items. Celebrities, rappers in particularly, will post images of themselves wearing the brand, which adds star-power-endorsement to Supreme's already efficient marketing techniques.

Supreme's most successful angle has been its utilization of the time pressure technique. When the brand releases its items right at 8 A.M., thousands rush to add items to their cart, and check out as fast as they can in hopes of claiming a highly-coveted piece for themselves. The problem with this rush is that many purchase things off of pure impulse. Some Thursdays Supreme will only release ugly and impractical clothing, but people purchase it anyways due to the adrenaline rush and focus on simply checking out and paying. Supreme's clothing is overpriced ($50 for average cotton t-shirts, and $140 for hoodies), but people are too focused on buying the item in the limited amount of time that they have, and fail to as themselves if they really need or can afford the stuff they're buying. My wallet fell victim to this panicked rush plenty of times, and this is one of the reasons why I decided to stop purchasing Supreme.

Supreme preys on teens' and young adults' needs for autonomy and attention. The brand has reached the point of standing out in public, and being easily recognized by some. To wear flashy, expensive, and rare clothing makes the wearer feel like a stand-alone individual. Freshman I went through the flashy Supreme phase when I would come school wearing big headbands, and bright clothes that didn't match. Through the media, Supreme had convinced me that I needed to stand out, and that the only way to get attention was through wearing the brand.

For many, buying from Supreme is not only part of their Thursday routines, but also one of the addictions that they struggle with as consumers. For three years, I wasted a lot of the money that I earned on clothing that I didn't need. Seeing this year's freshman class dressing and almost worshipping Supreme the way that I used to provides a fresh perspective to how others must have viewed me last year. I recently gave away and sold my Supreme clothing, and feel no different without the items hanging in my closet. Supreme is a brand that has built such a strong, almost cult-like following, that continues to drink the hard earned money of thousands world-wide. At least now I understand the brand's slick marketing, and have overcome any need to purchase from it. My wallet and I can take a breath of fresh air.