The death of the guilty pleasure

Y’all remember when you could just like stuff?

Once upon a time, guilty pleasures were just that—things you secretly enjoyed without needing to defend or intellectualise them. You could devour a Big Mac without calling it “late-stage capitalist Americana.” You could binge-watch The Real Housewives without a 2,000-word essay on “female rage as catharsis.” But today? Everything needs a take. Everything needs a lens.

Welcome to the death of the guilty pleasure, where postmodern irony, internet discourse, and the rebranding of “lowbrow” have turned our simplest joys into cultural battlegrounds.

Why on earth would we do this????

The internet made taste a whole performance.

The second we started sharing every thought and preference online, we stopped just liking things and started performing our likes. Nothing can be enjoyed in a vacuum anymore. It has to be curated, defended, and, preferably, positioned as knowing rather than sincere. TikTok and X are now arenas where taste is a competitive sport. Liking something unironically feels basic, so we preemptively defend our choices:

• “Yes, I love Olive Garden, but ironically.”

• “I think Twilight is fascinating, but only as a study in gender dynamics.”

• “Watching Love Island isn’t trashy—it’s an anthropological experience based on mediated voyeurism.”

Postmodern irony is the default mode of consumption.

Postmodernism taught us that everything is a construct, and irony became a shield against earnestness. As a result, pop culture is constantly being reclaimed through an ironic or intellectualised lens.

• The rise of “camp” aesthetics? Postmodern irony.

• The rediscovery of Nickelback or Nicolas Cage as “actually good”? Postmodern irony.

• The corporate embrace of kitsch (McDonald’s “aesthetic,” the return of Crocs, the Grimace Shake)? You guessed it—postmodern irony.

Loving things without self-awareness feels dangerous now. Irony gives us plausible deniability: I’m not just watching this reality show—I’m studying it.

Corporations saw the trend and capitalised on it.

Brands caught on fast. When people started consuming things ironically, companies leaned in and began rebranding their own irrelevance as cool. Suddenly, lowbrow wasn’t something to be ashamed of.

• Crocs went from embarrassing to a freaking Balenciaga collab.

• Velveeta went from “processed cheese goop” to a high-fashion campaign.

• McDonald’s transformed into a pop culture, rapper friendly content machine.

The message? If you can’t escape the cringe, monetise it. And people ate it up (sometimes literally).

What does this mean for marketers?

Not everything needs a justification. Let people enjoy things without turning them into a dissertation. Some brands (Slim Jim, Liquid Death, Duolingo) thrive because they don’t explain their own appeal. They let the absurdity be the strategy.

Embrace the uncool—without overthinking it. The reason nostalgia hits hard isn’t because we intellectualise it—it’s because it’s fun. If your brand is riding the wave of an old trend, don’t force a “deeper meaning” onto it. Some things are just cool again because people like them.

Know when to play the irony game and when to drop it. Irony works…until it doesn’t. If you lean too hard into postmodern “we know we’re cringe” branding, it can backfire (see: Burger King’s “Women belong in the kitchen” tweet). Sometimes, sincerity actually stands out more in a sea of over-the-top irony.

So like, can we just enjoy things again?

At some point, irony collapses in on itself. Eventually, things that were “ironically” loved (Shrek, Crocs, Nickelback, Monster Energy) become genuinely loved again. Maybe that’s the cycle. Maybe guilty pleasures will make a comeback once we get exhausted from having to justify everything.

-Sophie, Writer