A month or so ago, I was asked to take on the role of CEO at SMG, a global retail media specialist with offices in the U.K. and the U.S. Somewhat unusually, I was six months pregnant at the time.

The reactions have been fascinating: congratulations, followed by congratulations again. There’s normally an accompanying smile that’s a combination of shock and curiosity, along with a sense that this combination of events, or certainly this timing, isn’t something people are used to seeing.

It’s not unusual because it’s unworkable. It’s unusual because, structurally and culturally, we’ve made it so.

I’ve been with SMG for a long time, through different chapters and roles, from commercial and client leadership to operations and strategy. I’ve been part of this company as it has grown from a challenger into an established retail media specialist. I’ve taken maternity leave here before, and I’ve returned, as has our chief people officer, who is currently eight months pregnant, too. I’ve seen plenty of people progress into bigger roles before, during, or after parental leave. This isn’t treated as an exception, but as part of how we’ve built our culture at SMG. It doesn’t make headlines internally because it’s just how things work here.

That kind of long-term thinking around talent, and particularly female talent, is still far too rare. Across much of the advertising industry, there remains a deeply embedded caution when it comes to progression and parenthood. It’s rarely explicit (in my experience, those days are, thankfully, mostly gone), but it surfaces subtly in the way conversations get delayed, responsibilities softened, and decisions deferred. The logic seems to be that people who are temporarily less available might also be permanently less ambitious. That assumption, however, is just that: an assumption.

The talent we risk losing in these moments is often exactly the talent businesses say they want more of—strategic, committed, experienced, resilient. I’ve seen many times, from watching people in my team, that pregnancy doesn’t diminish leadership potential. In many ways, it cements it.

Still, I recognize how uncommon it is to see pregnant leaders in visible positions. More often, it’s something quietly managed or entirely hidden. When you don’t see it, it’s easy to internalize the idea that these two identities—CEO and mother, or mother-to-be—are somehow incompatible. There’s a notion that still exists: If you’re one, you can’t fully be the other.

That perception is part of a broader story we continue to tell ourselves about what leadership looks like. For decades, the image of a CEO has been shaped by a fairly rigid set of expectations: constant availability, full-time visibility, relentless drive, total independence. The classic archetype is someone who’s always on the move, always in control, often male, and rarely encumbered by visible caregiving responsibilities. It’s a version of leadership built around stamina and individualism, and for a long time, it went largely unchallenged.

The world, however, has changed. What businesses need from leadership today is very different from what they needed 20 years ago. The pace of change, the complexity of the operating environment, the growing focus on culture, inclusion, sustainability, and adaptability—all of these demand something broader and more human. Leadership today needs range, empathy, clarity, and the ability to build strong teams that can lead together. The idea that any one person should embody an entire organization is not just outdated, it’s short-sighted and counterproductive.

The version of the CEO role I’m stepping into is different, both by necessity and by choice. It is shared, for one thing. I’m taking on this position during a time of transition, supported by strong leaders across the business who bring different perspectives, styles, and specialisms. It is more focused than all-consuming, and built on trust, not presence. It’s also designed to continue running well when I step away temporarily—which, to me, is a sign of strength in a company’s leadership, not weakness.

That doesn’t mean it’s easy. It takes conscious effort to unpick long-held beliefs about how things “should” be done, including some that I’ve held myself. It also takes systems that are genuinely flexible, not just on paper. It requires a workplace culture that values what people contribute and the impact they have above all else. At SMG, we don’t always get it perfectly right, but we do try to design roles with an awareness that our team have important lives outside of work. That matters more than ever in an industry that constantly pushes for more, faster, bigger.

The systems outside of work—the ones that are meant to support working parents—still don’t. In the U.S., childcare is now the biggest expense for many families, often exceeding the cost of housing. At the same time, the U.S. remains the only high-income country without a national paid parental leave policy. There’s no structural incentive for businesses to make space for care. So if leadership roles feel inaccessible, it’s not because women lack confidence, ambition, or capability. It’s because the infrastructure too often lacks the necessary development or investment.

In that context, appointments like mine might feel symbolic. But they shouldn’t be. They should be normal. They should follow open conversations, long-term career planning, and a recognition that leadership potential doesn’t vanish when someone becomes pregnant.

I don’t know if I’d have predicted this moment—stepping into a bigger job while preparing to step out of the business for something personal. What I do know is that the timing doesn’t undermine the role, just as the role doesn’t define the leader.

There’s still progress to be made, both in the advertising industry and across society. The more we see leaders who reflect the full reality of modern life, the closer we get to building companies and cultures that reflect the future we want.

When I first saw American Eagle’s campaign with Sydney Sweeney, I couldn’t help but pause—not because the wordplay missed the mark, but because the context did.

Tongue-in-cheek is a style of humor rooted in sarcasm and irony. It’s playful by design. But it works best when the tone, the brand, and the talent delivering it are all aligned. Without that alignment, clever quickly turns into cringe.

Had this campaign featured someone known for comedy, it might have landed better—not perfectly, but perhaps with more grace. Comedians come with context: Audiences expect irreverence; they understand the wink. But Sweeney isn’t a comic. And American Eagle isn’t a brand known for subversive humor. So the joke doesn’t land with a laugh. It lands with confusion.

This isn’t about perfection, it’s about perception. And it isn’t just about American Eagle, either.

Take Dunkin’s recent campaign featuring Gavin Casalegno from The Summer I Turned Pretty. In the spot, he calls himself “The King of Summer” and says his tan is “genetic,” adding that “the sun just finds me” every time he drinks a Golden Hour Refresher. The line was likely meant as a tie-in to his show, but without the reference point, and in a cultural climate that’s hyperaware of coded language, it raises concerns. When people are fighting for belonging in every space from the boardroom to the border, messages that hint at superiority (even jokingly) can trigger deeper questions: Who gets to be seen? Who’s considered beautiful? Who’s the default?

In a time when humor can either humanize a brand or tank its reputation, marketers are stuck in the tension between wit and risk. And that pressure is real. Wendy’s has mastered that balance with its Twitter presence, a lesson in sustained sarcasm: The brand roasts competitors, replies with memes, and engages in fast-food flame wars, and it works not just because it’s funny, but because the brand has committed to that voice long term.

Today’s audience is paying attention not just to what is said, but who’s saying it, how it’s said, and whether they’re in on the joke. Shifting attitudes around beauty, race, and representation have made it clear: People want to feel seen, valued, and respected. And brands that miss that memo can quickly find themselves on the wrong side of the scroll.

This isn’t about cancel culture, it’s about consequence culture. Missteps don’t always come from malice, but they often come from a lack of perspective. And when a brand finds itself at the center of controversy, it typically faces a few options: issue an apology or acknowledgment, pull the campaign, stay silent, or double down.

So why did American Eagle stay the course?

Why brands double down

While the backlash and online discourse continued—maybe more than some expected or would have liked—American Eagle made its choice and doubled down. I believe they did so because the perceived reward of buzz, visibility, and lift in stock outweighed the short-term backlash. A week or two of controversy can feel like a worthwhile trade-off if it keeps people talking.

But more than that, I think American Eagle just doesn’t care about appeasing everyone. And that’s a shift worth paying attention to.

For years, brands have felt pressure to issue carefully worded statements, launch DEI initiatives, or rework campaigns to show cultural awareness. But now, we’re entering a new phase, one where wokeness is being openly politicized, weaponized, and spun into backlash marketing. The old model of “saying the right thing to keep everyone happy” no longer applies. In fact, trying to be everything to everyone is starting to feel off-brand.

We may be witnessing the rise of a new brand posture: Let people criticize. Let people be mad. Let people shop anyway.

It’s the marketing application of Mel Robbins’ Let Them theory. Let them misunderstand, let them talk—if the jeans fit, wear them. If they don’t, there are other brands.

That’s not to say AE is taking a moral stance here, but they are making a strategic one. One that feels anchored less in apology and more in identity. Think of it like Chick-fil-A choosing to close on Sundays: The decision comes with consequences. Some people protest. Others respect the consistency. But either way, the brand stands firm. That posture, whether spiritual, political, or just deeply on-brand, is becoming more common.

Which raises an even bigger question: Is this a brand misstep, or is it the beginning of a new tone? What if American Eagle isn’t reacting impulsively but repositioning intentionally? What if this isn’t just a cheeky campaign but a signal of a new creative direction? 

Brands evolve. And every evolution has a launch moment. Maybe this one just happened to start with a pun.

Any change is uncomfortable at first. Three months from now, we might look back and say AE was ahead of the curve—testing a sharper voice, a different tone, a new kind of cultural calculus. That’s why it’s critical, especially now, for marketers to take steps before launching any culturally resonant campaign.

Build a cultural council

Create a collective of people—those who reflect your target audience and those who don’t—to provide insight throughout the process. Internally, that might be a representative from an ERG or someone from an adjacent department not directly tied to the campaign. The key isn’t just to ask what people like, but to ask how people feel.

Most importantly, there must be space for open, unfiltered feedback. You need people in the room who can raise a hand and say, “This might be a problem,” before it becomes one.

Test early, internally and externally

Don’t wait to test your work until after the final cut. Put your creative in front of people who don’t look, live, or think like your team, and do it early in the process. If it doesn’t land there, it won’t land anywhere. If something feels off or needs adjustment, you still have the time and the budget to pivot with intention rather than scramble under pressure.

Don’t just ask “Is this witty?” Ask, “Is this clear? Is this safe? Could this offend?” If you’re not sure, ask H&M how its “Coolest Monkey in the Jungle” sweatshirt turned out. It wasn’t intentional, but it was avoidable.

Good marketing isn’t just about being clever. It’s about being aware. In a culture where every campaign is a conversation, your brand’s tone isn’t just what you say—it’s how you’re heard. So, if you’re planning to play it cheeky, be sure your audience is in on the joke. After all, maybe American Eagle really does just have good genes … I mean jeans.

Yes, this Sydney Sweeney x American Eagle campaign is blowing up across media and social media, snagging headlines left and right. Clearly, they didn’t sufficiently test the copy (among other things), and yet their stock price has surged despite the scandal. Which is going to lead some folks to claim all PR is good PR…

That’s a hard no. 

I can tell you definitively that is never the case, and there will be tangible fallout for AE as a brand. Media attention—even if for the wrong reasons—certainly gets your name out there, but negative debate damages the thing that matters most: positive name recognition.

And while critics will point to the eugenics side of things as the “issue” at play—and don’t get me wrong, it’s a real issue—the whole campaign itself is flawed. No, they didn’t run the copy by the right audiences. They clearly didn’t have a solid (read: diverse) mix of talent in the room when steering the campaign, because how did no one point to the “my genes are blue” bit and the association to Aryanism in this climate?! Or perhaps they didn’t think it’d be a dealbreaker. Either way, it’s poor judgment, or lack thereof, as is often the case in a “campaign-gone-bad” situation. Kendall x Pepsi, anyone?

I think about branding all day long on behalf of my clients, obsessing over the efforts that move the needle and those that miss the mark. Countless hours spent dialoguing around when a brand or their campaign doesn’t go far enough to create, deepen, or prove connection to consumers, and of course the opportunity therein to do better, more, different. So, I can tell you with a degree of confidence that fallout will happen—and soon. Expect a slew of influencer videos speaking their minds or saying they’ll be avoiding AE. And expect female consumers to respond with their wallets in direct accordance with how they feel.

But back to the campaign itself. Let’s be real: Sexy celeb sporting denim is somewhat tired. It’s been done since the ’80s when Brooke Shields first donned her Calvin Kleins (who can forget “Nothing comes between me and my Calvins”?) and the ’90s with those now iconic Levi’s 501 spots starring Cindy Crawford.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t point to the fact that this Sweeney campaign was in fact “inspired” by a Shields spot where the latter discusses genetics and “survival of the fittest” while squeezing into some denim. But that was 45 years ago. Cultural context has changed in terms of how we talk about diversity as well as our bodies—significantly. Read the room.

We’ve moved past all that—or at least I thought we had. Even AE as a brand helped us move past all that, pulling a move out of Dove’s “Real Beauty” playbook by launching their #aeriereal campaign in 2014 to highlight body diversity coupled with body positivity. Crawford’s recent return to denim for Re/Done and Good American were designed to show that sexy can be ageless. 

Meanwhile, Sweeney playfully talks to an unseen (presumably male) cameraman in her spots, making comments like “Hey, eyes up here,” when the camera zooms in on her breasts. The trajectory feels like we’re headed backwards.

As a spokesperson, Sweeney’s both “male-focused” and controversial when you consider her two recent campaigns for Dr. Squatch and another for Hey Dude. She’s tapped to secure the male gaze, obviously, but how does that sell denim to women? How will women respond? Female consumers are the people AE should be concerned about, not the men who might ogle her.

Sexed-up models don’t sell well to today’s woman. We want to see real bodies mirrored back at us. We love when a celeb embraces her flaws (we’re looking at you, Ashley Judd) or openly goes no makeup at major events (gorgeous move, Alicia Keys). We love—I kid you not, love—intentional vulnerability. 

Edelman’s Trust Barometer has shown time and again that women want to feel seen, heard, respected, and reflected by the brands they choose to do business with, stating that “81% of women buy based on brand trust.” SeeHer, an initiative from the ANA, found that “29% of women in ads are inaccurately portrayed through some form of stereotyping, objectification, or diminished character.” And here’s one more: Two-thirds of women would “skip ads if they felt that they were negatively stereotyping women,” according to Kantar.

The data is crystal clear. Which is why the focus on Sweeney’s breasts and her sex symbol status feels like an odd play for a brand which arguably has been trying to market to “real women” for a decade-plus. The seemingly all-out shift in brand direction doesn’t make sense.

AE told Adweek that “Sydney is someone Gen Z can relate to,” hence their choice, but my Gen Z colleagues offered something far more nuanced. They’ve told me—full stop—that these spots don’t resonate with them; said it pisses them off that women like Sweeney have been repackaged into the same blue-eyed blonde bombshell their mothers were told men wanted. Interesting, considering that Edelman research reveals that spokespersons need to be relatable more than they need to be popular, with relatability nearly twice as important as “popularity as a quality that attracts people to influencers.”

So, what’s next? How does AE move forward? For one, don’t just roll back the campaign. Own the mistake, accept the blame. That’s the best PR move you could make, hands down … and it’s not (yet) happening. The brand’s marketing team has discontinued comments on their LinkedIn posts, but discourse will happen regardless, and it’s far better to participate than have it unfold around you.

Instead, solicit input from your consumer base—ask them what they want, then respond in kind. Maybe even revamp and reinvest in your #aeriereal campaign, hint hint.

It deserves mentioning that the brand’s CMO, Craig Brommers, called the actress “one of the biggest gets in American Eagle history,” before adding that he was hoping to see significant gains against the investment.

And he did—at first. That stock jump’s surely been thrilling, up just shy of 16% between the campaign’s air date and July 29. This (speculative) upturn follows a drop of 40% in the first six months of the year (32.7% year-to-date as of July 29).

But that can change, and quarterly sales reports might well tell a different tale. It’ll be a hard lesson learned, of course, and a healthy reminder that brands should obsess over what their consumers want, expect, and need; they must consider the messaging they’re putting out into the world.

Brands are accountable to us—to all consumers. And we will hold them as such.

The saying that all publicity is good publicity isn’t always true, and yet there’s a whole slew of professionals out there seeking to make it their cause. 

After all, visibility is a high-stakes game. You can play and you can absolutely lose. And when your CEO is caught in a massive scandal of the extramarital variety and becomes arguably the most viral moment of the year thus far, what do you do? What are your options, when is the right time to act, and what are the inherent risks?

Everyone’s seen the Coldplay kiss cam video by now—seen the proliferation of memes, the offcolor comments, even that image with LinkedIn’s signature “open to work branding” slapped on top. Poignant yes, and also pointed.

And by now, most have also seen the video response where Astronomer’s “temporary spokesperson” Gwyneth Paltrow coolly states, “I’ve been hired on a very temporary basis to speak on behalf of the 300-plus employees at Astronomer,” before playfully referencing a recent surge in the company’s notoriety.

A brilliant move. Seriously, the marketer in me applauds the marketer in whoever pulled that off—because that original kiss cam clip clocked a whole lot of views, sparked commentary across platforms, and turned Astronomer—a B2B data automation company—into an unlikely name on everyone’s For You Page. In less than 24 hours, the company went from being known only in certain circles to being the most talked about business in the world. 

What do you do with that? How do you flip the script from being the laughing stock to laughing alongside. Because the way I see it, the real story isn’t the memes. It’s the company’s strategically executed response.

As a brand, you only have a few options at a time like this. You can either stay silent, let the attention die out, wait for the next viral moment to consume the news cycle, and move on. Or you can capitalize on the attention and shift things toward your own narrative. 

Now let’s get real: None of this was planned. The discourse around Astronomer came fast, loud, and personal. Most brands in that position would’ve chosen silence. Or even worse, a formal statement that would further cement the company as the butt of the joke. Astronomer (or whomever they signed on to manage this crisis) read the room and flipped it.

They didn’t deny what was already out there. They didn’t try to control the story. They leaned in with an appropriately light tone and redirected the attention back to the brand, an important distinction at a time where other social accounts, including big corporations, were making memes about individuals whose real lives were affected. 

Astronomer took the individuals out of the narrative, and consequently, took back control. What we saw wasn’t a stunt. It was a smart, self-aware response to an unplanned spike in visibility. In fact, it was the highest brand search interest Astronomer has ever seen.

They used that moment to reclaim ownership over how their company was being talked about. By casting Paltrow, the ex-wife of the Coldplay frontman, as their “temporary spokesperson,” they nodded to the cultural context and internet chatter while shifting the spotlight back to themselves. Not the drama. Not the people. The business. It deserves mentioning that Paltrow has a mind for business too.

That distinction matters, and again, she was the absolute perfect choice.

We’ve seen too many brands jump at viral moments without reading the room, inserting themselves into conversations they don’t belong in, only to get hit with “silence, brand” replies. The best move isn’t always participation. In fact, sometimes the best approach is to not engage with this moment at all. But jumping on a viral moment that is trending versus jumping a viral moment centered around you are two completely different things. 

Astronomer’s situation was the latter. They were already at the center of the storm, all eyes on the brand. Instead of doubling down on defensiveness or disappearing, they changed the energy.

They acknowledged the meme, redirected the narrative, and reclaimed their moment in culture—all while handling it with a tone that was entertaining, product-centric, and most importantly, not personal.

While the stunt was executed by Maximum Effort, a shop known for big swings and even bigger celebrity connections, a response like Astronomer’s only works when marketing and company leadership has the structure move quickly, act with judgment, and lead the response. It’s what it looks like when a company has the backbone to trust that team and the clarity to know the difference between a joke and a reputational risk.

Because when the internet shows up—whether by scandal, stunt, or stroke of luck—your response is the campaign.

Ozzy Osbourne and Black Sabbath invented “heavy music.” Every metal and punk band today is a direct result of the creativity that began in that special group of talented weirdos. So without question, Liquid Death is a direct result of Ozzy’s influence that shaped the punk and metal music of my formative years, that had such an outsized impact on my own personality, taste, and sense of humor. 

Fast forward to 2022 when we learned the Osbournes were fans of Liquid Death and wanted to work with us. It was an actual dream come true for me. And in terms of what Ozzy did for Liquid Death, his commercials are some of our highest performing on social to date. 

Ozzy and Sharon were both so great and easy to work with, largely because we shared a sense of kindness with a similar, twisted sense of humor. We felt like kindred spirits. In fact, before Ozzy, we first presented our DNA cans idea to another big celebrity whose management team didn’t see as much humor in it and thought it might be too risky. Ozzy and team instantly loved the concept and thought it was hilarious.

I don’t really believe in destiny or spiritual magic, but what a wonderful coincidence that Ozzy’s DNA preserved on Liquid Death Iced Tea cans was one of his last contributions on Earth. And one of his last quotes was, “Clone me, you bastards!” 

Disruption and disruptors are all the rage in modern business, and for good reason—it’s very lucrative to balance true disruption with fandom. It’s easy to disrupt with something weird that no one really enjoys or cares about; creating something truly unique, that is also widely adored, is much more rare.

Ozzy was a master disruptor. He disrupted rock music and stardom with a superhuman dose of intensity. He made the Mick Jaggers and Robert Plants of yesteryear seem like basic cable. Which made Ozzy larger than life, almost to the level of folklore. Even to this day, there are people debating whether he bit the head off a real bat or fake one. 

At the end of the day, what Ozzy really did was inspire generations of rebellious weirdos that we too could find real success. He showed millions that you don’t have to look like a fashion model or play happy music to win. With the right level of talent and intensity, anyone could break through.

This ushered in a surge of unassuming freaks who started ’80s bands like Metallica, Misfits, Slayer, and Motley Crue—who all had ridiculous success and shaped the modern landscape of heavy music today. And all of those bands are even more popular in 2025 than they were in the ’80s; they outlived so many other gimmicks from that decade.

Heavy music, particularly metal, is one of the most universal genres globally. It’s the actual “world music” genre, and Ozzy was one of the biggest contributors to its inception. If you search online, you can find music videos of a young girl in Indonesia with millions of views, who shreds incredible guitar covers of Lamb of God and countless other metal bands. She, too, is part Ozzy.

And don’t forget that The Osbournes in 2002 essentially created the modern reality television genre. The Kardashians have Ozzy to thank as well. 

Legend is a word thrown around a little too lightly these days, but Ozzy is one of the rare, true legends. He’s almost mythological. Remember, kid, there’s heroes and there’s legends—heroes get remembered, but legends never die.

In an ironic twist, the same AI tools many feared would cannibalize media might actually be the mechanism that restores its value. Large language models could finally tip power back toward premium publishers.

LLMs aren’t simply indexing content, they’re interpreting it. These models are trained on authoritative sources, named bylines, structured reporting, and consistent reputational signals. That gives premium publishers a built-in advantage.

Unlike traditional search, which rewarded clickbait and scale, LLMs reward clarity, accuracy, and context. As a result, low-effort SEO plays and content mills are being deprioritized by design. That’s a profound shift, and it’s one that real journalism is finally positioned to win.

Where SEO once rewarded tactics, generative AI rewards trust. And trust, for the first time in a long time, is becoming machine-readable.

Citations as monetizable moments

The biggest opportunity for publishers isn’t traffic. It’s presence. When AI agents cite or link to content in a response, that’s a signal boost. Every citation becomes a new kind of ad impression—one that’s native, trusted, and positioned at a moment of high user intent.

These moments can be monetized in multiple ways:

• Sponsorship of AI-cited content or topics (e.g., “Brought to you by…” integrations inside AI responses).
• Usage-based licensing for data-rich or evergreen reporting.
• Embedded links or prompts that direct users to premium environments when contextually relevant.

This shifts the economics away from fleeting page views and toward durable, high-trust visibility within AI conversations.

LLM-native ad formats are emerging

New ad formats are already being tested that are built specifically for AI environments:

• Conversational ads: Integrated seamlessly into AI outputs, these text-based ads match tone and context.
• Answer-layer sponsorships: Brand alignment with a category of answers (e.g., a travel brand appearing alongside trip planning responses).
• Contextual callouts: Brands highlighted as part of AI-recommended solutions (e.g., a cookware brand linked in a cooking-related answer).

These formats don’t work in chaotic or low-quality content ecosystems. They require well-tagged, structured, high-signal environments. Premium publishers are uniquely suited to provide such environments. As a result, the most valuable inventory won’t be visible pages. It’ll be the structured, cited, reusable snippets AI agents pull from again and again.

A second wind for direct-sold advertising

For years, direct deals were pushed aside by scalable, programmatic buys. But in a world where AI agents deliver answers instead of pages, brand safety and contextual relevance return to center stage.

Going forward, direct deals with frequently cited publishers will carry outsized value, and advertisers may pay a premium to be adjacent to LLM-verified information. Increasingly, marketers will favor partnerships that give them a durable presence in trusted content streams, not just one-time exposure.

What marketers should do now

Given this shift, marketers should consider the following strategies in an AI-first media world:

1. Shift from targeting users to targeting contexts: LLMs don’t deliver people. They deliver answers. Brands need to be discoverable in the right moments, not just the right demos.
2. Partner with citation-worthy publishers: Aligning with sources that LLMs already trust ensures you show up in the new interface of discovery.
3. Prepare creative for text-native environments: LLM outputs are overwhelmingly textual. Ads should match that format: informative, context-aware, and seamlessly embedded.
4. Treat AI agents as distribution channels: Ask: What’s our brand’s presence in generative ecosystems? How often are we cited, referenced, or recommended by AI?
5. Consider new performance metrics: Instead of CPMs or CTRs, think: How often is my brand cited in generative responses? How much influence do we have in machine-curated journeys?

The real shift: authority as inventory

When machines curate content for people—and not the other way around—the balance shifts. Long tail loses its edge. Premium reclaims its pricing power. Authority becomes scalable again.

The next great media opportunity won’t come from clicks. It will come from being trusted by the machines that decide what people see next. And for the first time in a long time, that’s very good news for publishers who still believe in quality.

Getting caught cheating is never good, but most couples don’t have their dirty laundry aired by Coldplay frontman Chris Martin in the middle of a concert.

The grainy kiss cam footage of a cuddly couple scrambling apart and ducking out of frame as Martin gently narrates the affair speculation has commanded so much organic media that any brand would be jealous. It was irresistible even before the pair were exposed as data firm Astronomer’s CEO Andy Byron and his head of HR, Kristin Cabot—who is not his wife. 

The rest was as predictable as a forecast: TikToks cropped up within hours. Memes flooded X and Instagram. In a modern twist, someone even created a fake letter of apology that went almost as viral as the original video.

The thing is, none of this had to happen. And it contains a lesson for anyone—or any brand—that finds itself in an unflattering spotlight. 

You make your own bad publicity

The world likely would’ve remained ignorant of Byron and Cabot’s alleged affair had they reacted differently to appearing on the Jumbotron. Instead of smiling, laughing it off, or giving a peck like a normal couple, they behaved as though there was something to hide. 

This is a perfect reminder of how your reaction, not the original incident, ultimately drives public perception in the digital age.

In the brand world, there are few examples of a greater doomsday event than TikTok teens drinking Grimace shakes followed by horror-movie endings—endless videos of foaming at the mouth, twitching in parking lots, and walking into the ocean at night, viewed about 3 billion times over the summer of 2023.

McDonald’s, however, didn’t blink. There was not a single cease-and-desist letter or corporate PR statement. Instead, the company leaned in with a single viral tweet of Grimace acknowledging the trend. McDonald’s let the absurdity run its course, and in doing so turned a potentially damaging news moment into one that cemented its cultural relevance. 

As the fast food chain’s then-U.S. social media lead Guillaume Huin wrote on LinkedIn, “saying nothing felt disconnected, encouraging it felt self-serving, so we just decided to show our fans that we see them and their creativity in a sweet, candid and genuine way.”

Contrast that with the reaction from the maker of Calico Critters, the tiny fuzzy animal figurines beloved by millennials since 1985. The TikTok account Sylvanian Drama has been posting darkly comedic videos starring Calico Critters since 2021, building a 2.5 million-strong following along the way. But back in April, Epoch Co., the Japanese company that makes Calico Critters, sued the TikToker, claiming their dark vignettes have caused “irreparable injury” to the “goodwill and reputation” of the brand.

Instead of allowing this niche part of the Calico Critter fandom to continue flourishing—and potentially driving a resurgence of interest in the once-popular toys—Epoch filed a copyright takedown. And just like that, the company went from being known as the maker of a nostalgic staple to corporate killjoy. (Not to mention likely boosting Sylvanian Drama’s profile by drawing attention to it.)

It’s obvious which strategy turned a dicey corporate moment into a growth opportunity.

Oh, what a thing to do

But the current crisis is about people, not brands. Surely there’s no comparison?

Yet, had Byron and Cabot simply kissed, like many other kiss cam couples do, would the video have made it to social media at all? Even if it had and they were recognized, would the situation have gone beyond watercooler whispers, maybe a Slack thread or two? Probably not, just as McDonald’s didn’t need to announce that its blueberry-flavored McDonald’s milkshake was not actually poisoning teens.

There’s a reason PR teams now talk less about crisis prevention and more about crisis management. In a world where you can’t control the camera—and definitely not social media—you have to be ready to steer the conversation. 

Panic breeds curiosity. Silence breeds speculation. But humor, authenticity, and a little self-awareness can be your best defense.

There were reasons to be happy at this year’s Cannes Lions. 

We were awarded a Titanium Lion for work we knew deserved it. It stood out from the moment I first saw it as an early idea in a meeting in São Paulo. It was the first ever Titanium win for Mars, and the first in my 28 years of building brands.

There were conversations that went delightfully off-script, like a panel with Deepak Chopra on the value of giving care outside of work to shape better leaders inside it.

And there was some brilliant work, powered by high-caliber creative talent. I returned to the Creative Effectiveness Lions jury this year—exactly 10 years after I first judged Creative Business Impact at Cannes. I was excited to see the change that a decade made in creative power grounded in truth, craft, and consequence. I met an extraordinary group of industry leaders, all willing to trade the sun and fun for a windowless room and a shared belief that great work still matters.

We’ve seen and awarded much excellent work. But we also much debated the connection between real life and the world of award submissions: Should a campaign impact be awarded when, just nine months after its Grand Prix win, the client CEO calls the brand “challenged” in their investor presentation? Should we celebrate a stunt’s creative impact when it failed to reverse the core brand’s underperformance reported in the client’s quarterly review? How long can we keep living in a parallel universe of clever stories we tell ourselves—rather than facing the outside world as it actually is?

Then, the dam broke.

Twelve Lions—one Grand Prix, three Golds, four Silvers, and four Bronzes—had to be rescinded, as the winning agency admitted to AI-doctoring its case studies. Another Grand Prix was scrutinized on the scale of local impact that its powerful case video promised. A case study for a Gold Lion was questioned for celebrating the work from four years before the submitting agency won the account. Sales results reported by another Bronze Lion win were strongly debated by local press. The swiftness of action from the Lions team was spot on, but it does little to ease the growing sense of the collective desperation. 

Beneath the awards glitter, there’s a deep, real fear of irrelevance hanging over the creative industries. I see it as a client who’s been around for many, many award seasons: a fear that in the face of accelerating technological change, we have lost not just control, but purpose. 

Instead of confronting that fear, we turn to the ever more sophisticated “fake magic”: exaggerated cases, inflated impact metrics, and self-congratulatory narratives so detached from reality they feel like bad fiction.

Cannes Lions—and the entire ecosystem of award shows—must change. Not incrementally. Fundamentally. We must dedicate these “meetings of minds” to real conversations. We need to stop treating these festivals as temples of applause and start using them as forums of reckoning. Places for hard questions, uncomfortable answers, and real creative debate. 

What is the role of originality when anyone can generate content? What does effectiveness mean when trust is eroding? What kind of creativity do we actually need now? These real conversations are there, happening quietly and privately in the background—shouldn’t we bring them to the forefront? 

Of course, it’s easier to criticize than to build. To throw stones than to venture an alternative. Through honest conversations in the aftermath of this year’s festival, I feel that the Lions team’s intent to change is real. They care and are ready to listen to the voices that share the urgency to act. I’m glad to be part of this conversation; festivals like Lions can offer a unique platform for tackling the issues that are symptomatic of the creative industries’ identity crisis.

The single reason for being of the creative industries is to help businesses and brands grow. It’s what will determine their long-term survival. Clearly, it’s tougher than ever to grow today, so shouldn’t that be the core of our discussion about creative power? If the creative industries don’t reform the way they see and talk about creativity, they will keep living a parody of the relevance they once commanded.

The fear in our industry is real. Mergers. Layoffs. Budget cuts. AI literally threatens to replace us (shout-out Meta). And then 2025 arrived, kicking off with a wave of anti-DEI sentiment from the current administration—and, in lockstep, from many marketers.

And now, we’re witnessing the most aggressive attack on immigrants this generation has seen. Last month, when ICE raids hit Los Angeles like a bullet train, our agency spoke out—not about the financial hit to our communities or our clients, but about the emotional and human toll of such a blatant display of hostility toward immigrant families. Just as the DEI backlash was never truly about meritocracy, these raids aren’t really about legal versus illegal. They’re about targeting the most vulnerable.

For us, speaking up felt obvious. We’re an independent, minority-owned agency founded by immigrants. But what surprised me was how few others joined us. Over the past few weeks, agencies have been largely silent. I know Cannes was happening; I saw it everywhere in my feed. But while everyone was off celebrating creativity, the raids continued—and spread. 

Even before Cannes, our industry’s employees felt the silence, not just publicly but internally at their offices. Those of us who did speak out heard from some of your staff, “We wish someone at our agency would even bring this up, but it’s just BAU around here.”

This isn’t just a West Coast issue, either. Raids are happening nationwide. And according to multiple sources, nearly 70% of those being detained have no criminal record and no warrants.

So why should our industry weigh in? Thus far, I’ve seen a few posts about the potential financial impact—declining sales, reduced store traffic, and the long-term risks of alienating multicultural communities. All important, of course. But I’d like to offer two more reasons why we, as agencies and brands, should demonstrate we care.

For starters, your employees care. More than 40% of marketing professionals are under 35. That same age group is more than 40% multicultural, and 12% identify as LGBTQ+. And—this matters—65% of them oppose ICE raids. If you think they’re not watching your silence, you’re mistaken, trust me.

Secondly, your customers care. That same under-35 group is your present and future audience. In a world where AI is leveling the playing field, what’s left is your brand’s values and emotional connection. Brand love, not just brand performance, will be the differentiator.

I’m not naïve. I’ve been in this industry long enough to understand the balancing act, specifically the risks agencies take when representing brands (and sometimes, government entities), and the calculus brands do when deciding where to take a stand. But it’s equally naïve to believe this moment will pass without consequences. People are watching, young people especially. They’re waiting for leaders to lead—to speak up, to take risks, to show empathy. And as we know firsthand, in the absence of governments doing what they should be doing, people will look to brands and the business world to fill that void. Herein is the opportunity.

No, we’re not elected officials. We’re not policymakers. But we are communicators. Storytellers. If we can’t use our voice to acknowledge the truth and lived experience of the people we claim to care about, then we need to ask ourselves why we’re in this business at all.

There are many ways to speak up, support your teams, and tell these stories. So if you’re not sure how to tackle this one, reach out. I’m happy to brainstorm with you and your teams—because this is about all of us, and it isn’t about being political or apolitical. It’s about being human.

Nobody said leadership would be easy. But as David Ogilvy once said: “Leaders grasp nettles.” Now’s the time. 

I’m as skeptical about the latest “shiny object” announcement as anyone else. And just coming back from Cannes Lions, companies both large and small had major news to share; the coming of agentic artificial intelligence was the talk of the town.

Right now, we’ve got marketing teams running 80 to 120 different tools and platforms. Half the time, they can’t even talk to each other easily—they are siloed. APIs come to the rescue and bring the necessary platform-to-platform connectivity needed to power today’s adtech ecosystem.

But APIs don’t solve for cross-platform orchestration. If you want to run a simple audience activation campaign across multiple channels, suddenly you need a team of engineers just to make it happen.

So, with everyone on the Croisette racing toward AI agents that promise to automate complex workflows, how can businesses actually start AI-enabling their tech stacks? 

That hope is where the Model Context Protocol comes in. MCP isn’t going to inspire screaming headlines about epochal change for your career. There won’t be any conference sessions about MCPs replacing your job as an award-winning creative. But the potential is very real that MCP is emerging as the standard that will make our agentic marketing future a reality.

The foundation of connectivity

APIs are the OGs of connectivity. They’ve been around since the 1950s (really).

APIs are used to connect today’s tech stacks, but they clearly weren’t built with AI agents in mind. Consider a typical campaign workflow: You want to build an audience in your customer data platform, push it to The Trade Desk and Meta, get reporting back, optimize based on performance, track conversions, and send a summary to your client. Sounds simple enough. But in reality, you’re dealing with different rate limits, varying data structures, and about six different places where the whole thing can fall apart.

Now, imagine trying to get an AI agent to handle that workflow. With APIs, you’d need to teach the agent every platform’s specific requirements, every error condition, every little gotcha that comes with each integration. That doesn’t make business sense, especially when you are talking about 80-120 platforms in your tech stack.

MCP flips this completely. Instead of agents needing to understand the technical complexity of every platform, they communicate through the protocol servers that provide context (the “C” in MCP) about what each system can do and how to work with it. Think of it as giving your agent a really good interpreter for every platform in your stack.

What agentic orchestration actually looks like

The promise here isn’t just about simplifying integrations. It’s about finally enabling the kind of automated workflows we’ve been talking about for years.

I could write into a chat interface right now, “Take our high-value customer segment from last quarter’s campaign. Run it on social and programmatic channels. Aim for a return on ad spend of more than four times, and send me updates every week on how it’s performing.” An agent equipped with the right MCP connections could theoretically execute that entire workflow without me touching another platform.

Again, this is not five years in the future. The major LLM providers have already adopted MCP as the standard: OpenAI, Gemini, and Claude are all supporting it. The future is now.

Why this time should be different

What I like about MCP compared to every other “revolutionary” integration solution we’ve seen is the modularity. You’re not locked into some vendor’s ecosystem or forced to rebuild everything to make it AI-enabled or when you add a new platform.

Managing API-based connections at scale takes real resources. MCP adds a new connection layer that makes those same APIs usable by agents across multiple platforms, extending the value of APIs, not replacing them. 

Think about it from a practical standpoint. If you’re running an enterprise tech stack, you can’t wait for every vendor to build native AI integrations. But you can use MCP as the bridge between your existing APIs and these new agentic capabilities.

The guardrails we actually need

You might very well be wondering whether we’re going to have AI agents running loose with our media budgets. Look, I get it. The idea of autonomous systems making real-time decisions with client budgets should make you nervous.

It comes down to safeguards. MCP works through existing API frameworks, so they inherit the guardrails you’ve already got in place. Plus, you can layer on additional controls. User profiles also limit what agents can do. Mandatory approval checkpoints are an essential safeguard for big decisions, and there are audit trails for everything.

The goal isn’t to eliminate human oversight. The role of professionals’ judgment is the point. Instead of manually moving files between systems and babysitting integrations, you should be setting strategic parameters and making high-level optimization calls while agents handle the operational tasks.

Start small. Maybe it’s just automating audience file transfers. Then maybe it’s basic reporting aggregation. You crawl, then you walk, then you run.

The choice

What most people aren’t thinking about yet is that MCP isn’t just about connecting your own platforms. It’s about adding a new layer of connectivity that other companies can plug into. The question is whether you’re building that orchestration layer or just hoping someone else builds it for you.

We need to be smarter about this tool. Choose your MCP providers carefully. Start with clear use cases. Build governance frameworks before you need them. And please, for the sake of your sanity, don’t try to automate everything at once.

This is the good thing about these early days. We can approach MCP thoughtfully and create something that actually works. Or … we can rush in blindly and create another expensive mess that requires armies of specialists to maintain.