Have you ever played a game called soup, salad or sandwich? The basic principle of the game is that all foods can be categorized as either a soup, salad, or sandwich. There are no exceptions to the rule and you must justify your answer. I’ll get you started:

• A steak is a sandwich (gluten free) but a steak sliced into pieces is a salad (sans lettuce);

• A candy cane is a soup (melt it down);

• A banana is a sandwich. It’s a single ingredient wrap, and wraps are, of course, sandwiches.

It’s a reductive system but usually leads to laughs and, occasionally, to thoughtful dialogue. Is a banana a sandwich? I’ll keep arguing the point until Big Chiquita comes to take me out.

In this essay, I make a fairly similar case about marketing under capitalism. Capitalism gets a bad rap, and understandably so. Many of the worst ills in American society today are rooted in market failures where the private sector can’t monetize it and the government won’t do it.

But is capitalism inherently bad? In my opinion, no. The only inherent evils in this world are yellow jackets who attend the picnic uninvited and pickup truck drivers moving too slow in the fast lane. With appropriate guard rails in place to address the wholly predictable outcomes of a system built entirely on profit motive, I still believe that capitalism offers the best chance for humans to build incredible, powerful and equitable societies.

According to the data analytics site “Answer The Public,” some of the most searched questions on Google with the key word Capitalism include, “will capitalism collapse reddit,” “capitalism who invented,” and, “why capitalism is bad.” This is a selection of the questions people are asking about capitalism, and they reflect a deep mistrust and lack of understanding about such a widely tossed about word.

Capitalism operates on the principle that private individuals and businesses should own and control the means of production, goods, and services rather than the state. Private property ownership is encouraged, markets remain free to operate without government intervention, and the philosophy of profit motive, that is, the principle that businesses and individuals are driven by the incentive to earn profits, which encourages innovation and efficiency, reigns free.

Plenty of good can arise from this system, as can plenty of bad. I have much to say on both. For the purpose for this essay, I want to focus on one aspect of how capitalism and marketing intersect, and lessons that Direct to Consumer (D2C) brands can take away:

The Hot, Rich and Popular Framework

Let’s start with the basics. Everyone wants to be hotter, richer, or more popular. (And if you don’t, congratulations on achieving transcendence. Please enjoy your robe and vow of silence). These three things are the fuel of human ambition, the trifecta of desires that keep us scrolling through Instagram and clicking "add to cart" at 2 a.m.

Understanding that this framework exists can help our brains chop through the trick briars of online marketing, either avoiding, or giving into when desired, the traps of “Hot, Rich and Popular” sales. But better yet, I posit that a deep understanding of the Hot, Rich and Popular principle will hack how social enterprises who seek to do good while abiding by the rules of capitalism can achieve more and do well.

Category One: Get Hot

If you’ve ever exfoliated, planked, or tried on something described as "slimming," you’ve been a willing participant in this category. Direct to Consumer brands thrive on the promise that if you just do this one thing you’ll emerge from your cocoon of mediocrity hotter than Brad Pitt on a beach.

Take skincare brands like Fenty Beauty or Curology. The implicit promise isn’t just clear skin; it’s a ticket to a life where your confidence is sky-high, your selfies are magazine-worthy, and you’ve mysteriously stopped needing Snapchat filters. I mean, come on: Fenty’s message is literally This Will Make You Look Like Rhianna. Or look at Lululemon. They’re not selling leggings - they’re selling the fantasy that you’ll look like someone who crushes sunrise yoga while also  managing a tech startup.

Brands that want you to get hot have an obvious and easy pitch. They appeal to the monkey brain that wants to mate, now. There is something profoundly sad, but also easily understood, about the reasons that this message sends chemical signals directly to your “add to cart” finger.

Category Two: Get Rich (Or at Least Look Like It)

Being rich isn’t just about money - it’s about the vibe. And if you don’t have the actual dollars to back it up, don’t worry; D2C brands are here to help you fake it till you make it.

Take NerdWallet or Betterment. They’re not just apps - they’re gateways to a life where you understand things like "compound interest" and "index funds" without needing to Google them. Or look at luxury goods companies like Everlane, which combine minimalist designs with just enough moral superiority to make you feel smug about your wealth - even if you had to put that $200 tote bag on your credit card.

Brands that tell you to use their product to get rich are making a similar pitch to the “get hot” brands. If you buy their product or service, you’ll make more money and live a better life. Again, an easily understood message with an all-too-easy to believe in siren song.

Step Three: Get Popular

Now we arrive at the most elusive goal: popularity. This is where D2C brands appeal to our primal need for approval, validation, and likes on social media.

Supreme is a classic case study. They’ve convinced millions of people to camp outside their stores for a box logo hoodie that costs more than a week’s worth of groceries. Why? Because wearing Supreme isn’t just about fashion - it’s a social flex. It’s saying, “I’m part of a cooler tribe than you are.”

Kylie Jenner didn’t become a billionaire by selling lip kits; she did it by promising buyers a slice of her Instagrammable life. That’s the magic of this category: It’s not about the product itself - it’s about the aspirational lifestyle that comes with it.

I also like the Patagonia example. Patagonia used to be for the kind of person who read climate reports unironically. But that couldn’t stop them from becoming a status symbol, where wearing “Patagucci” translates to, “I have more money than you and I care more about the planet.”

Social media platforms like Instagram and TikTok are inherently the drivers in this space. They’re not selling you a product; they’re selling you the chance to become a product - a personal brand, a viral sensation, a bona fide influencer with 10,000 followers and a vague sponsorship deal with an energy drink company.

Is There a Lesson Here?

Yes, and thank you for asking. All of this rumination on the most powerful and base motivations of a capitalism driven marketing campaign is a lesson, in my opinion, to the do-gooder brands of this world. Stop trying to do good things.

Ok, that isn’t the lesson. The lesson is actually: stop trying to market good things. Instead, do good while telling people that they are going to be hotter, richer or more popular because of it.

This might sound like a stretch, but it isn’t. Everlane and Patagonia (see above) prove this out. 

And for smaller companies building their 2025 marketing strategies, the cost for a socially diverse group of models to take stock photos with your product is probably worth building into your budget.

I’m seeing this today with a product I hope to work on [Redacted]. [Redacted] is the first, and to our knowledge only, fully [sorry I really can't tell you about it yet]. The question I am asking is: how can we make sure that users of [Redacted] think they’ll either be hotter, richer or more popular?

Optional Fourth Category: Cheap, Lazy, and Niche

Okay okay, yes, there are outliers to this system. And yes I can hear you asking: Outliers? In a simplistic framework that breaks all D2C companies down into three categories? Inconceivable.

But alas, we must recognize the complexity of our world, And it is here that I offer a fourth catch-all category to my framework: Cheap, Lazy, and Niche.

Why do I lump all of these together? Well, obviously because a six pillar framework just feels silly. But also because I would argue that the cheap, lazy and niche goods still have to duke it out in the much grander halls of Hot, Rich and Popular.

Take for example an aisle at Marshalls, Home Goods or Bed Bath and Beyond. You are staring at two can openers. The first is available for $1.99, the second is available for $5.99. You have a choice to make now: the cheaper one saves you money, which in turn makes you richer. But the six dollar can opener (in pastel yellow with an ergonomic handle) will look oh-so lovely in your kitchen. It also sends your guests a message: “That’s right, baby, I bought the expensive can opener. Does yours have a rubberized, non-slip grip?”

Cheap and Lazy is for the companies that focus on, heaven forbid, purpose. They’re solving real problems in your life, like how to see who’s at your door without actually getting up or how to open a jar without spraining your wrist. They’re not sexy, but they reduce the amount of work you need to do, for minimal cost, and that’s its own kind of appeal.

And niche: These are the brands that cater to the hyper-specific interests of hobbyists, collectors, or obsessive enthusiasts. Think high-end gaming gear, artisanal cheese-of-the-month clubs, or custom tools for woodworking. These brands don’t promise to make you hot, rich, or popular - they promise to make you happy, which, let’s be honest, is a harder sell.

Deep down, we all want to believe that the right face cream, app, or pair of sneakers will unlock the door to a better life. A hotter, richer, more popular life. A life where we’re finally enough.

And if that’s not worth $49.99 — and oh my gosh free shipping?? — what is?