Silicon valley's new obsession: selling its soul (and fleece)
Forget free conference swag and forgotten gym shorts. The titans of tech—OpenAI, Figma, Palantir—are now aggressively peddling branded apparel, hoping to capture a slice of the fashion zeitgeist. The result? A curious collision of algorithms and aesthetics that leaves some wondering if this is a genuine cultural play or just another vanity project.
The rise of the $175 research fleece
It wasn't long ago that these companies were content to operate behind the scenes, quietly revolutionizing industries. Now, they’re vying for attention in a space previously dominated by streetwear giants like Supreme and Aimé Leon Dore. The new trend is subtle: heavyweight cotton sweatshirts and tees, often featuring understated embroidered logos. OpenAI’s “Research” fleece, priced at a hefty $175, is a prime example—a seemingly unremarkable garment that speaks volumes about the shifting ambitions of Silicon Valley.
The strategy isn't entirely new. Financial institutions, particularly on Wall Street, have long understood the power of branded merchandise to project a certain lifestyle. Think Goldman Sachs-branded L.L.Bean totes and picnic sets from the 1980s and 90s—symbols of a world of power and exclusivity. However, what distinguishes the current tech surge is the deliberate attempt to mimic the visual language of contemporary streetwear, a calculated move to appear “cool” and relatable.
“The color choices remind me massively of the early Outdoor Voices color scheme,” observes Louis Cheslaw, editor and writer of the style Substack Wardrobe. The emphasis on “doing things” outdoors, mirroring the visuals of AI companies' promotional videos, suggests a concerted effort to humanize technology and portray it as an integral part of an active, desirable lifestyle. But as the disastrous Meta AI glasses rollout demonstrated, translating this aspiration into reality is far more complex.
Beyond the hoodie: a reflection of power
Chris Black, co-host of How Long Gone and founder of consultancy Done to Death Projects, succinctly puts it: “The AI guys were getting rich and discovering fashion, so they think this is what it should look like.” This isn’t just about selling hoodies; it’s about signaling taste, cultural relevance, and ultimately, power. Tony Wang, founder of Office of Applied Strategy, points out that companies have always used merchandise to project a worldview, but the current wave is aimed at cultivating a desirable image, moving beyond the functional or self-deprecating swag of earlier eras.
Palantir’s recent foray into merch, including a blue chore coat—a garment steeped in working-class history—is particularly telling. This isn't a random choice. Wang notes that Palantir’s aesthetic leans toward the avant-garde, drawing inspiration from Virgil Abloh's designs and their mid-century roots, while OpenAI favors a more retro, Aimé Leon Dore-inspired style. The choice of aesthetics reflects their broader strategies: Palantir aiming to associate itself with American dynamism, and OpenAI with the approachable comfort of familiar design.
The escalating prices of OpenAI’s merch on platforms like eBay—tees fetching upwards of $250—highlight a curious phenomenon: “geek chic.” It's the “vintage concert rock shirts of tomorrow,” a testament to the enduring appeal of branded goods, even when they lack intrinsic value. But as Cheslaw wryly observes, “I’d laugh if the amount of ugly new product being put into the world wasn’t so wasteful.”
Ultimately, the success of this strategy hinges on more than just visual appeal. “The cultural credibility of an aesthetic doesn’t come purely from its visual output,” Wang emphasizes. “It comes from the world-building underlying that aesthetic—from creative research to design codes to community building and sustained fandom.” The founders' run clubs and pop-up merch stores are attempts to cultivate that community, but whether they can reverse-engineer authenticity remains to be seen.
The question isn't whether these companies can create stylish merchandise; it’s whether they can escape the perception of being mere purveyors of corporate cosplay. A $175 fleece might look cool, but it’s a far cry from genuine cultural influence.