How Modern Advertising is Rewriting Masculinity

Once upon a screen: nostalgia for a time when ads made once men confident, fun, and memorable.

At a moment when the West is renegotiating its cultural identity, advertising offers an unexpected barometer of change. Sydney Sweeney’s American Eagle campaign reminded us that sensuality still sells, while Cracker Barrel’s recent U-turn to its original logo underscored the fact that most Americans were never repulsed by Southern charm in the first place. These are encouraging signs. However, on closer inspection, modern advertising still has a long way to go. Continuously, it infantilises men, clings to stereotypes, yet lectures consumers with a veneer of progressivism – contradictions that sit uneasily together.

In this article, I want to trace some of the clearest examples of these contradictions, with a particular focus on the portrayal of masculinity, and show how profoundly the cultural script has been rewritten in the advertising world.

Men: From Role Models to Punchlines

Once a staple of advertising, strong and inspiring masculine role models are now a rarity. Consider Gillette: in 1989, where its famous “The Best a Man Can Get” campaign celebrated men as fathers, athletes, and professionals – pillars of both their families and wider communities. Fast-forward to today, and the picture is strikingly different. Since its much-debated “toxic masculinity” commercial, Gillette has shifted to portraying men as flawed, awkward, or in need of correction. It past year’s campaigns have undercut traditional masculinity in subtler ways – showing men shaving off body hair, prioritising fashion and self-presentation, or centring TikTok personalities rather than the role models the brand once claimed to celebrate.

Case Study: Lynx 

Even in the context of traditional heterosexual relationships, men are increasingly portrayed as weak, effeminate, or simply the punchline. Examples are well highlighted by recent campaigns from Lynx. In the commercial for its Cherry Spritz deodorant, the male lead – styled so similarly to his girlfriend that they could almost be mistaken for siblings – is relentlessly beaten up by her dog. Meanwhile, she tends to him with exaggerated care, though it’s difficult to see what she finds attractive in him beyond his cherry scent. Masculinity here isn’t just downplayed – it’s being mocked.

This is in addition to Lynx’s other recent commercial, titled “Robbery”. The advert opens with a boisterous female lead storming into a remote diner, hammer in hand, terrorising staff and customers. Yet the chaos abruptly dissolves when she catches a whiff of the young Asian waiter’s lavender-scented deodorant. Suddenly pacified, she sprawls on top of him, and the pair drive off into the sunset with her stolen money – at which point he declares his love for her. On the surface, it’s cheeky and entertaining. However, when we see endless adverts portraying men as passive, submissive, or the butt of the joke – it’s easy to feel a pang of nostalgia for the kind of bold, unapologetic campaigns that these brands once used to champion.

Take Lynx’s iconic advert for its ‘Pulse” fragrance in 2002. Simple and hilarious, we see a young man showcase his dance moves in a bar as the famous Room 5 track begins to play. Captivated by his comedic courage, two attractive women join in, while shyer men observe the spectacle from afar. 

This advert enjoyed an incredibly positive reception, with the dance track later soaring to number one in the UK charts for four consecutive weeks as a direct consequence. Notably, at the time of the advert’s release, Joanna Teasdale, a Lynx “spokeswoman” proudly said: “The combination of a dance track, a dance, and the launch of the new fragrance reflects everything that Lynx encompasses – seduction”. Now, I cannot imagine Lynx would ever publicly share such a philosophy in 2025.

Testing the Waters

By contrast, one brand dared to climb out of the cultural trench this summer and into no-man’s-land – but they were promptly shot down. Twix’s “Two is More Than One” campaign featured a man driving recklessly in a distinctive brown coupé, eventually flipping the car before it reappeared in duplicate, a clever nod to Twix’s iconic twin bars. Despite its humour and creativity, the ad was banned after just five complaints to the Advertising Standards Authority (ASA) on the grounds that it “encouraged dangerous driving” and breached The Highway Code. 

The decision is deeply ironic: countless adverts glamorise alcohol consumption or promote unhealthy foods without fear of being banned, even though their long-term consequences – addiction, obesity, and chronic illness – are far more serious than the fleeting thrill of a fictional chocolate bar joyride.

The 100/0 Problem

The deeper irony of modern advertising is that while men are consistently infantilised, 95% of cleaning product adverts in America still feature women as the lead characters. This creates what I call the “100/0 problem”. Women are frequently celebrated as the leaders, decision-makers, and breadwinners in adverts – yet they are still shown as the ones who carry the burden of keeping homes running too. Meanwhile, men are stripped of their authority, softened into caricatures, and rarely portrayed as capable of either leadership or basic household responsibility. It is a hollow vision of equality, one that leaves men diminished, and normalises women as being overburdened – deeply reflective of what so many modern relationships have become. 

Why Does This All Matter?

Some readers may wonder why this matters. After all, you can choose not to watch a television show, or to skip Sabrina Carpenter’s latest song. But advertising is different: it intrudes. Whether it’s your favourite YouTube podcast being interrupted every few minutes with clips you can’t skip, or a billboard staring back at you on your walk to the Tube, advertising is unavoidable – and that makes its cultural messaging impossible to ignore.

This gives big advertisers immense power over ordinary people. They don’t just sell deodorant or chocolate bars; they set beauty standards, create role models, and shape aspirations. Increasingly, they play God – whispering into impressionable ears not only how we should look, but what we should value, desire, and even believe about ourselves. And right now, that message is confused: men are infantilised, women are overburdened, and tradition is erased. Until advertisers rediscover the power of stability, strength, and aspiration, they will continue to reflect a world that no one truly wants to live in.