Maybe Supreme Really Is Dead
Supreme may actually be dead. You can't say I didn't call it.
In March 2023, I inadvertently set off a mini-firestorm by humbly positing that Supreme is dead. But I didn't mean to actually sound the death knell: I only meant to quantify Supreme's standing in today's streetwear scene.
Supreme had simply become too big to still be cool and thus was, in streetwear parlance, "dead."
Between declining cultural relevance, potent challengers, unsold product and a sense of encroaching corporatization, I saw that Supreme was no longer sitting comfortable at the forefront of streetwear as we know it. And, beyond the wave of publications that followed my lead, my thesis was only proven more correct over time.
Months after my initial article was published, Supreme parent company VF Corporation divulged underwhelming revenue, including a multi-million dollar slip at Supreme. Then, new Supreme creative director Tremaine Emory departed amidst much controversy, alleging systemic racism.
All the while, Supreme was aggressively expanding like it never had before, presumably to meet corporate demand: Shanghai, South Korea, Chicago and Berlin all received Supreme flagship stores within two years, the former three within the past 12 months alone. Previously, Supreme only opened a new store every half-decade or so.
From an outsider's perspective, it looked a lot like the formerly taciturn Supreme attempting to make up for lost time, a frantic bid to both assert dominance and move in on turf claimed by young upstart designers who had since nibbled heartily into Supreme's once-outsized slice of the streetwear pie.
A recipe for concern, in other words
Indeed, VF Corp is now looking to sell Supreme according to a report first published in mid-May by WWD.
VF Corp has not confirmed nor denied the rumor. When reached for comment by Highsnobiety, a company representative said, "We don’t comment on market rumors or speculation."
Supreme's sale doesn't come as a shock. New VF Corp CEO Bracken Darrell only just told investors that there are "no sacred cows" in VF's stable.
Consider that VF Corp, which currently has a debt of about $5 billion and again announced disappointing revenues a few months ago, paid over $2 billion to acquire Supreme in 2020.
Further, VF Corp had expected the streetwear company to bring in $600 million by 2023, an ambitious increase from the previous year.
Supreme's revenue declined, however, a seven percent year-over-year loss from $561 million down to $523 million.
CEO Darrell has rolled up his sleeves to address VF Corp's debt. In the months following his June 2023 appointment, Darrell swiftly put bag brands Eastpak and JanSport on the chopping block while analysts weigh the benefits of selling Timberland (it is not currently for sale). He has also been hands-on with Vans, which is visibly wavering.
But, from the moment it bought Supreme, VF Corp promised not to meddle in the 30-year-old label's affairs.
“We talk about a light-touch integration with this business because it’s very successful, operating at a very high level today," said Steve Rendle, then-CEO of VF Corp, in a November 2020 interview almost immediately after announcing the acquisition of Supreme. "This brand will continue to operate as it always has, we do not look to come in and make any changes.”
VF Corp may well uphold that promise by simply washing its hands of the whole Supreme thing.
Maybe. Maybe not. But that a sale even seems possible speaks to the state of Supreme today.
A silver lining: should VF Corp actually sell Supreme, the New York skate brand may have a golden opportunity to reclaim its vitality, assuming another publicly-traded corporation isn't its new owner.
Supreme currently dwells in a streetwear miasma similar to the space once occupied by Stüssy. But while Supreme treads water, a canny rebranding has leapfrogged Stüssy to the culture's cutting edge. It is nimble where Supreme is sedate.
It took some downsizing, akin to the revitalization of Aimé Leon Dore, but Stüssy's rebirth is proof that there's life after streetwear death.
Stüssy is a private company, though. Supreme currently answers to a parent company and, thus, investors. Investors like growth. They like more and they like bigger. A proposition that encourages more profit, sure, but one that is the antithesis of authentic cool.
Bad news for a brand whose ethos is founded upon a curated image.
Let's be clear: no one saying "Supreme is dead" means that Supreme no longer exists, that Supreme no longer makes money, or even that Supreme is no longer desirable, even to the people bemoaning its untimely death. Those things can still be (are, even) true.
Supreme is clearly profitable, you know, with net income in the ballpark of $64 million. But, in the realm of streetwear, cash is merely the thing that allows you to keep going. The really important stuff — influence, infamy, loyalty — can't be bought. Even the fact that we're talking about millions upon millions of dollars only reiterates Supreme's unwieldy scale.
In streetwear terminology, "dead" is used in place of "passé," "out of touch" and even "cheugy," as TikTokers say. It's derogative, describing brands that were once alive, vivacious and fresh but have since become staid.
Back in the day, most of the people calling Supreme "dead" were jaded fans frustrated by the increasing visibility of their favorite brand. Supreme was leaving them behind and they were mad. But even they couldn't really deny that Supreme was still streetwear's apex.
No longer.
Whereas Supreme's name was once synonymous with provocation, it now speaks of an institution. Supreme is to streetwear as as death and taxes are to life. It is simply all too inevitable.
