The Unsettling Joy of TV Merchandise
When tuning in to shows like Mad Men and The White Lotus, we love to watch bad behavior and flaunt our good taste
I feel like I should be more critical of the fact that The White Lotus has a ton of new merchandise, but the reality is I’ve been absolutely charmed and delighted by the array of items available for purchase.
I adore the Funko Pop figurines of Armond with a suitcase and Tanya on a scooter. I’m considering purchasing the official cocktail collection book, “designed to bring the elegant resort experience to your home.” I love the t-shirts and drinking glasses that feature the iconic White Lotus logo and am even considering the more modest purchase of themed Coffee Mate creamers based on this season’s setting in Thailand: Thai Iced Coffee or Pina Colada. My jaw dropped when I realized that some of the tie-ins are far more expensive. Banana Republic features a new White Lotus collection with tropical print maxi dresses, beaded bags, and a $50 bucket hat. Away’s White Lotus collection features limited-edition carry-on luggage in varying sizes. The tagline reads, “You handle the emotional baggage; we’ll handle the rest.”
As my friend and fellow Together, Alone commentator Gabe Bullard argues in his essay on why The Bear needs a cookbook tie-in, good merchandise can “work as a projection of taste.” I may love watching the occasional episode of Is It Cake? but I would never buy anything to advertise the fact. In contrast, a White Lotus purchase feels like an investment, one that not only showcases your prestige TV taste, but can also potentially help you forge connections with other fans.
As streaming has led to a more fractured viewing experience, I’ve come to appreciate how good merchandise can move conversations about TV away from our living rooms and into public view. And yet, marketing morally complex shows still feels complicated to me. When Mad Men was first airing, I worried that there was something insidious about the public’s obsession with the show’s sumptuous fashion. The magazine spreads that highlighted the gorgeous furniture and bold clothes of the time captured the glamour but also didn’t require that you grapple with the heavier topics embedded in the series. I was frustrated by how many viewers seemed willfully obtuse to the heart of a show about broken people adrift in a changing cultural landscape. The outfits and objects that were being sold often made the world feel lighthearted and nostalgic: didn’t the focus on fashion and party favors detract from the more pressing themes of the series?
These tensions are also illustrated in the recent discourse about the Anora Criterion Collection Box Set, which some view as salacious, and others view as precisely in line with the film’s frank story about sex work. The cover features Anora in a provocative pose with thigh high black boots and open legs. “Take her home” the Instagram ad purrs. I don’t dislike the Anora cover. I love how the film’s heroine is draped in her iconic red scarf, which functions as a central metaphor for the questions at the heart of the film: the same scarf that is used to gag her is also later used to keep her warm. But I was annoyed when I first read that tagline. It invites attention (sex sells!) without saying anything clever or interesting.
Perhaps this comes down to a bit of a defiant streak in me: I don’t want a company to tell me how to feel. It’s why fan art always feels richer and more inviting than anything a studio produces and why I’ve been especially captivated by the merchandise for Severance, which pokes fun at the dystopian world, eagerly offering up Lumon themed mugs and stationary, as well as novelty t-shirts and hoodies. The White Lotus merch is cheeky yet ultimately aspirational. Severance merch embraces irony in a way that not only fits the show’s ethos, but also ultimately feels more authentic.
So why do I still feel joy when I scroll through The White Lotus merch page? Perhaps it’s because I’ve become less of a cynic than I was when Mad Men was first airing. The White Lotus is a show that works precisely because the world it presents feels so seductive. I trust that viewers who adore the show are able think deeply about their reaction to that world and to also enjoy the simpler pleasures of a bucket hat or tote bag that proudly proclaims, “I love this show. Maybe you will too.”