From the Gap to Abercrombie, mall brands have staged their comeback and are going viral | Canada Voices

Two years ago, persuaded by the frenzied online chatter, I ordered a pair of black Giant Fit Chinos from J.Crew. Cut loose from a sturdy cotton twill with sewn cuffs at the hems, the trousers were a new version of a 1990s archival style that was updated by Brendon Babenzien, the cult streetwear designer tapped to sprinkle his skater prep sensibility into the struggling retailer’s men’s offering.

He did, and it worked. “WE HAVE COME TO A COMPLETELY NEW MOMENT IN THE HISTORY OF PANTS,” enthused the fashion writer Rachel Tashjian on X. “The totally enormous ‘giant-fit’ J.Crew chinos, created by the very brand that ushered in the tyranny of way-too-tight men’s pants, are SOLD OUT.” The pants went viral on TikTok and were effusively endorsed by Esquire and GQ, which, by my count, publishes a pro-J.Crew piece every three weeks. In 2022, a brand rep told (who else but) GQ that the chinos were a surprise bestseller. By that point, wide pants had been popular among men’s wear enthusiasts, who scoured thrift stores for vintage Ralph Lauren chinos or designer sale racks for contemporary options under $500. Finally, they could buy them at the mall for the reasonable price of $144.

Still, I had to see for myself. “My chinos have arrived,” I texted a friend. The verdict? “Impeccable fit.”

After a decade of decline, mall brands are making a comeback. J.Crew is opening curated men’s and women’s stores in its native Manhattan. Sales are soaring at Abercrombie, hitting US$2.2-billion last year. With star designer Zac Posen now as creative director, the ever-beleaguered Gap is slowly righting course after years of baffling collaborations, stale marketing and a stubborn commitment to elastane (old habits die hard). They may never return to their former glory, but thanks to smart leadership and fresh creative vision, these stalwarts have once again nailed the alchemy between product and marketing, luring shoppers with quality clothes at affordable prices.

Following stints as chief brand officer at Rebecca Minkoff and Mansur Gavriel, Ana Andjelic – a three-time Forbes Most Entrepreneurial CMO winner – joined Banana Republic in that role in 2021 to help reinvent and reposition the troubled brand. The seasoned strategy executive started by connecting disjointed dots, syncing marketing, design and merchandising to deliver a cohesive brand vision. “The clothing design came from the same place as the brand: imagined worlds,” says Andjelic. “What do you wear when you go to XYZ?” The result was a focused collection of travel-inspired pieces communicated through compelling imagery and brand campaigns –and a TikTok viral tote bag. Between 2021 and 2022, sales grew 24 per cent. “I think that’s a that’s a highlight of my career,” says Andjelic. (She left BR in September of 2022 to join Esprit as global chief brand officer.)

Perhaps the most surprising – and successful – comeback of all is Abercrombie. A decade ago, a mountain of troubling allegations ended the brand’s authoritarian reign as the racist Regina George of retail. Suddenly, billboards of shirtless white teens playing tackle football at the country club felt as jarringly anachronistic as a Gen Z queen bee trying to enforce the social hierarchy and dress codes George dictated in the movie Mean Girls – especially when the brand’s CEO faced allegations of every flavour of discrimination and, most recently, sex crimes.

Even at mall brands, “you need to invest in creativity,” says the journalist Lauren Sherman, who writes Line Sheet, Puck’s fashion newsletter. “It’s not just about money. It’s about giving a creative person an opportunity to take risks.”

At Abercrombie, those people are CEO Fran Horowitz, chief product officer Corey Robinson and chief marketing officer Carey Collins Krug. Under their savvy, unproblematic leadership, the brand shed its provocative WASPy all-American image for one that’s more inclusive and approachably cool. “Today’s Abercrombie has replaced that fantasy with a humble practicality, offering a reasonably priced uniform for the TikTok-adjacent life where every outfit is familiar but unidentifiable, minimalist but just trendy enough,” reports Chantal Fernandez in The Cut in a wide-ranging feature on Abercrombie’s resurrection.

Abercrombie’s pants have almost become cult items – and TikTok-viral hits – among style-conscious millennial and Gen Z shoppers. The brand’s range of well-made, size-inclusive denim styles are best-sellers for women, while wide-leg pants do big business on the men’s side. Most styles are priced at $98, give or take $10 on either side. The rebrand has earned back the trust – and dollars – of consumers, and won back the press.

Kate Black, the author of Big Mall, a book chronicling the social history of malls and shopping, is one such fan of Abercrombie’s vast array of denim styles, which includes cuts for extra tall customers and the best-selling Curve Love fit, designed to reduce the waist gap. Solving real women’s problems with good design makes Abercrombie “a practical place to shop,” Black says. But she admits that, for her, wearing Abercrombie at 30 and seeing these mall brands recapture their cool satisfies “a sense of wish fulfillment, like I’m achieving this latent dream that I had from when I was a teenager” about feeling included by a brand – an institution, really – built on exclusion.

But Black theorizes that there’s a more fundamental reason why we’re shopping at the altars of our teenagehood – perhaps it’s as much about what the brand’s represent as the experience of the mall itself. Black sees the mall as “our last town square” where despite the forces pulling us apart (like our phones or social media or political polarization), “most will have this core social experience that we can’t help but be drawn to.”

Still, fashion is fickle and consumers are capricious; even the hottest brands eventually cool. Take Banana Republic, for example. In May, the CEO departed about eight months after the brand released an ill-fated home collection and reported flat second-quarter sales. For any brand to maintain momentum in the market, Andjelic says that “you need to shock the culture for a minute, it’s an important part to hit to ignite that spark. But if you want to cause a fire, you need unrelenting focus and discipline quarter after quarter.”

J.Crew, however, is causing a fire, in large part thanks to CEO Libby Wadle, who took the top job after 16 years at the brand. Wadle had the insight to hire Babenzien on the men’s side and Olympia Gayot – who worked under Jenna Lyons during her vaunted tenure at the brand – to lead the women’s collections. (When Lyons joined the cast of The Real Housewives of New York, her famous wardrobe drew the jealousy and ire of her fellow housewives.) Wadle “instinctively knows what J.Crew is and is not,” notes Andjelic, “and that’s incredibly important.”

J.Crew has restored its position as a beacon of modern American prep, ditching the sequin-festooned, capital-F fashion pieces shoppers didn’t actually want to buy – at least not from J.Crew. As a private company that doesn’t disclose much financial data, it’s hard to track how J.Crew’s buzz translates to sales. Last year, I popped into the store in a Florida mall to see Babenzien’s collection in person, only to step into a sartorial time warp to 2014 – no giant chinos here. Meanwhile, the brand is opening dedicated men’s and women’s stores in downtown Manhattan that will stock pieces from the collections that will appeal to downtown Manhattanites and those who aspire to dress like them, such as giant fit chinos, oversized Oxford shirts and smart cable-knit sweaters.

This merchandising strategy suggests that J.Crew believes that New Yorkers define all-American style differently than suburban Floridians, but it has to try to speak to both. But its marketing proves the brand understands the power of speaking to a niche audience, such as having the Strokes play its 40th birthday party last year, or re-releasing its iconic print catalogue. The men’s campaigns feature indie-cool artists and directors such as painter Sam McKinniss and director Mike Mills. And this summer, Gayot collaborated with the cult New York designer Maryam Nassir Zadeh on a capsule collection that amplified MNZ’s vintage-inspired, ineffably cool aesthetic – for the masses.

It’s not far-fetched to say that even two years ago, shoppers had few reliable options to find the perfect cashmere sweater, broken-in denim or simple summer dress. It felt like any retailer making clothes assumed people wanted fashion – that is, diluted runway ideas – not stylish, practical clothes for real life. So there’s good reason for the swell of excitement around these revivals beyond nostalgia. “Luxury prices have gotten so insane, and I can’t afford a Miu Miu dress,” says Emilia Petrarca, a former fashion writer at The Cut who pens the popular style Substack Shop Rat. The J.Crew x MNZ collaboration offers a middle ground that the market was missing. “It feels like it has a point of view, and it feels high fashion, but I can actually add to my cart.”

For me, that means adding a boxy crewneck sweater from Abercrombie to my cart – and leaving the Miu Miu one in my wish list.