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Abercrombie & Fitch (A&F) was once the epitome of “cool” for American teens in the late 1990s and early 2000s – a brand built on exclusivity, aspirational imagery, and a very narrow definition of who fits in. Its stores, with thumping music and overpowering cologne, became social hubs for youth and symbolised status for those deemed attractive enough to “wear the moose”. Yet the same exclusivity that fuelled Abercrombie’s rise eventually led to its fall. Controversies over discrimination and a lack of diversity tarnished the brand’s image, leading to lawsuits, public backlash, and a significant loss of relevance.

This is why, in the 2025 IADS White Paper, DEI at a crossroads in retail, Abercrombie & Fitch is cited as a case where DEI was neglected, inconsistently sustained, and ultimately mishandled—resulting in significant reputational, cultural, and operational consequences. Positioned as a lesson from the field rather than an isolated failure, the brand’s trajectory illustrates how progress on inclusion is neither linear nor guaranteed.

This Exclusive examines Abercrombie & Fitch’s history through a DEI (Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion) lens – how an exclusionary culture caused harm, who was most impacted, and what lessons retail and department store leaders can draw from A&F’s reckoning and ongoing turnaround.

The rise of an exclusive brand

A&F’s modern incarnation was crafted in the 1990s under CEO Mike Jeffries, who transformed the 100-year-old sporting goods outfitter into a preppy, sexy, youth-oriented apparel empire. Jeffres’ vision fused Calvin Klein-style provocative marketing with Ralph Lauren’s all-American prep, sold at prices teens could aspire to. The brand cultivated a “cool kids” image at every turn. Stores were designed like nightclubs, with thumping music, dim lighting, and a signature musk (Fierce) sprayed into the air to create an exclusive atmosphere that drew young shoppers. Staff were hired for looks and instructed to appear nonchalant (even borderline snobbish) toward customers, reinforcing the sense that shopping at A&F was a privilege. Teens of the era, lacking today’s social media, took cues from mall culture and A&F’s giant glossy ads to learn what was “in”. In the late ‘90s and early ‘00s, Abercrombie & Fitch became a pop culture phenomenon, defining teen fashion and beauty standards. However, those standards were largely “thin, white, and young”, as described in the Netflix documentary White Hot: The Rise & Fall of Abercrombie & Fitch (2022).

Abercrombie & Fitch’s marketing in the 1990s-2000S glorified and idealised an exclusive image. Stores prominently displayed huge posters of scantily clad, athletic young models (usually white), reflecting CEO Mike Jeefries’ vision of “attractive, all-American” youth. This aspirational branding, combined with dimly lit, music-filled stores and “cool” aloo staff, made A&F a status symbol for some shoppers while implicitly alienating those who didn’t fit the mould.

From advertising to store associates, Abercrombie’s concept of “All-American” was extremely narrow. Former CEO Mike Jeffries infamously admitted that the brand was built on exclusion: “We go after the cool kids… A lot of people don’t belong [in our clothes], and they can’t belong. Are we exclusionary? Absolutely.” In practice, this meant A&F’s public image featured almost exclusively white, fit, conventionally attractive models and actors. The company deliberately did not offer plus sizes for women for many years (women above size 101 or so simply weren’t apart of the target look). In the store environment, “all-American” often functioned as code for white, a reality that would soon lead to serious trouble.

Exclusion by design

Abercrombie’s exclusionary ethos extended beyond marketing; it permeated hiring and operations. By the early 2000s, reports and complaints surfaced that A&F was systematically hiring and promoting based on looks and race. Store managers were under pressure to staff sales floors with what the company deemed “on-brand” people – overwhelmingly white, clean-cut, and slim. Minorities who were hired were often assigned to back-of-store stockroom positions or had their hours cut if they didn’t fit the desired image. In one noted case, a Latino applicant was told he could work in the stock room but not out front with customers, a humiliation he later described in court. The company even had “Look Policy” guidelines forbidding certain personal styles disproportionately associated with nonwhite individuals (for example, banning dreadlocks for employees).

These practices led to a landmark class action lawsuit in 2003 (Gonzalez v. Abercrombie & Fitch), filed by Asian American, Black, Latino, and female plaintiffs. They charged that Abercrombie refused to hire qualified minority candidates for sales jobs, or hid them in the back, solely because they didn’t match the “A&F look.” The case uncovered that recruiting often targeted white fraternities and sororities to pipeline “attractive” (and mostly white) staff, and managers were instructed to maintain the look, even if it meant overt discrimination. In late 2004, A&F settled the lawsuit for about $40 million without admitting wrongdoing. The settlement’s consent decree required Abercrombie to address its biased practices: the company had to implement diversity programs, hire a Vice President of Diversity & Inclusion, bring in 25 recruiters to recruit minority employees, and ensure that marketing materials included models of colour. Essentially, Abercrombie was forced to implement basic DEI measures that, in hindsight, could have prevented the debacle in the first place.

Around the same time, A&F’s marketing provoked public outrage for racism and insensitivity. The brand produced graphic T-shirts with caricatures and slogans that offended Asian Americans – most notoriously a shirt featuring two smiling Asian figures and the words “Two Wongs Can Make It White,” which played on a racist trope. After Asian American student groups organised protests and boycotts, the company pulled the shirts and issued a sheepish apology. But the pattern of operating “in a bubble” with tone-deaf ideas was clear. Abercrombie’s exclusion was so entrenched that even satirists took notice – comedy sketches lampooned the brand’s elite, white image and the unfriendly attitude of its store staff. By the early 2010s, Abercrombie was increasingly seen as out of touch and out of step with evolving social values.

One flashpoint came in 2013, when comments Mike Jeffries had made years earlier resurfaced and went viral. In a 2006 interview, Jeffries proudly embraced “exclusionary” marketing and suggested that A&F wanted only “thin and beautiful” people wearing their clothes. The public reaction in 2013 was swift and negative – petitions garnered thousands of signatures urging Abercrombie to offer larger sizes and to stop “fat shaming” would-be customers. That year, a young activist named Benjamin O’Keefe started a viral petition calling out Abercrombie’s discriminatory sizing and marketing; he urged a boycott until the brand catered to “people of all sizes.” Looking back, O’Keefe said, “They [A&F] rooted themselves in discrimination at every single level.” His campaign captured a growing sentiment that Abercrombie’s once “cool” exclusivity had become ugly and unacceptable.

Impact on people and culture

For those who didn’t fit Abercrombie’s narrow ideal, the brand’s practices were more than just offensive – they were personally damaging. Employees and job applicants from minority backgrounds were perhaps the most directly harmed. Numerous young people had the experience of being implicitly told “you’re not what we’re looking for” because of their skin colour, ethnicity, or features. The 2003 lawsuit included students from Stanford and other colleges who were deeply discouraged after being steered away from customer-facing roles for being Latino, Black, or Asian. This kind of bias not only denied equal opportunity but also inflicted lasting psychological harm on those rejected for who they were. As one plaintiff recalled, “I felt it was because I was a Latino – but there was no one I could report this to at the time.” The legal case finally gave these youths a voice and a measure of justice through compensation and mandated reforms.

Customers were also affected in less quantifiable but real ways. Throughout the 2000s, A&F’s advertising sent a message that only certain people were “cool enough” for the brand – namely, white, athletic, attractive teens. This contributed to a toxic beauty standard that left many young people feeling inferior. Teenagers who were heavier, or of a different race, or couldn’t afford the clothes, often internalised that they “didn’t belong” in Abercrombie’s world. The documentary White Hot: The Rise & Fall of Abercrombie & Fitch notes that the brand “kept those messages pretty overt” about whose bodies and looks were considered right. In an era before body positivity and diversity were mainstream, A&F’s popularity actually amplified insecurities among those on the outside. As director Alison Klayman observed, talking about Abercrombie inevitably brings up personal stories about “body insecurities” and “what it meant to be a young person” bombarded with these images.

Additionally, certain religious and cultural groups clashed with Abercrombie’s policies. A notable example is the case of a Muslim teenager who in 2008 was denied a sales job because she wore a hijab, which violated Abercrombie’s strict “Look Policy” prohibiting head coverings. This led to a lawsuit that went all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court. In 2015, the Court ruled 8–1 against Abercrombie, declaring that refusing to hire someone in order to avoid accommodating a religious practice (like wearing a hijab) was a violation of civil rights law. The Supreme Court decision underscored how discriminatory policies had been literally built into Abercrombie’s dress code, and it further damaged the company’s reputation. By then, what once was sold as the “perfect All-American look” had been widely exposed as a euphemism for prejudice, alienating not only people of color but anyone who didn’t mirror the company’s very limited image of American youth.

The fall : business consequences of a toxic culture

The social and legal backlash against Abercrombie & Fitch ultimately led to significant business problems. In the late 1990s, exclusivity might have helped A&F stand out, but by the 2010s, consumer values had shifted dramatically. A new generation prioritised inclusion and social justice, and they had many more clothing options. A&F’s sales plunged as teens and young adults flocked to competitors that seemed more inclusive or authentic. By the mid-2010s, the once “white hot” brand was losing money and closing stores. Its image was stale – even to its core audience. As one commentator put it, exclusion stopped being cool. Many shoppers simply “don’t spend money where you feel bad about yourself”, and Abercrombie has made a lot of people feel bad

Internally, the company also struggled. After 2004, Abercrombie did make some superficial changes under the consent decree – hiring more people of colour, adding diversity training – but the toxic ethos persisted. Executives like Jeffries did not publicly acknowledge the cultural failings. Former diversity officer Todd Corley later noted that while he managed to increase the diversity of the workforce (A&F went from about 90% white employees to closer to 50% white in roughly eight years), he often lacked full support. Jeffries continued to make tone-deaf remarks or policies that “arguably worked against Corley’s progress”. Indeed, when the court-appointed monitoring ended in 2011, Abercrombie was quick to slip back into old habits in marketing, still featuring almost all-white models in giant store posters. The culture at the top had not fundamentally changed. This tension culminated in Mike Jeffries’ ouster in late 2014 amid slumping sales and mounting public criticism. By then, Abercrombie & Fitch had, in the words of one retail analyst, burned “white hot” and burned out– it had lost the cachet it once exploited, and was left with a battered reputation among both consumers and prospective employees.

Notably, revelations about the deeper dysfunction of Abercrombie’s leadership continued to emerge even after Jeffries’ departure. In 2023, news investigations alleged that Mike Jeffries had engaged in exploitative conduct with models during his tenure. Such headlines reinforce how a company culture that tolerated discrimination and objectification can breed other unethical behaviours. Abercrombie’s fall stands as a cautionary tale: a brand that glorified exclusivity to the point of discrimination sowed the seeds of its own decline.

Turning the ship: Abercrombie’s attempt at reinvention

With Jeffries gone and mounting pressure to improve, Abercrombie & Fitch began a slow turnaround, seeking to transform itself from an exclusionary brand to a far more inclusive one. New leadership took the helm – most notably Fran Horowitz, who became CEO in 2017. Horowitz publicly acknowledged that Abercrombie had to fundamentally change, saying “We are fundamentally a different company than we were back then” and “very focused on diversity and inclusion”. Under her direction, A&F finally abandoned the “cool kids only” playbook and made moves to invite a broader range of customers:

• Inclusive marketing: The company dropped its hyper-sexualised, whitewashed ads. Abercrombie’s campaigns now feature models of many different skin tones, body types, and sizes, emphasising real people and everyday stories instead of unattainable fantasies. This shift aligns the brand with modern expectations – as the director of White Hot noted, Abercrombie’s new imagery “puts them in line with what good business looks like today”.
• Product range and sizing: Abercrombie finally extended its sizing and styles to cater to more body types. It introduced “Curve Love” jeans and expanded women’s sizes beyond the previous limits. By embracing plus-size customers and offering more diverse fits (looser cuts, curvy fits, etc.), the brand signalled that everyone is welcome – a stark contrast to its old stance of refusing to carry larger sizes. These changes not only won back some customers but even created a “cult following” for certain inclusive products like the Curve Love line.
• Workforce & culture: Building on earlier efforts, A&F’s workforce today is much more diverse, and the overt “look” biases have been curtailed. Store associates are no longer hired (or fired) based on a single aesthetic mold. There’s also a greater emphasis on employee experience and openness – a far cry from the days when only one kind of person could thrive at the company. (It’s telling that Abercrombie won several Best Place to Work for LGBTQ Equality awards in the late 2000s under Corley’s guidance, reflecting some cultural growth.) Still, questions remain about how fully the internal culture has reckoned with the past; meaningful inclusion requires ongoing commitment beyond just marketing fixes.

These reforms have started to pay off. By 2021–2022, Abercrombie’s sales had stabilised and even grown, after years of decline. The company’s rebrand resonated with some young adults who rediscovered the label after it shed its old baggage. On TikTok, for instance, the hashtag #AbercrombieIsBack trended as new customers showed off the revamped styles and messaging. A&F’s share price rebounded as investors gained confidence in the turnaround. While Abercrombie will likely never dominate culture the way it did in 1999, it has at least moved from being a case study in exclusion to a case study in redemption through inclusion.

Horowitz’s strategy – focusing on knowing the customer and “meticulously building the product, voice and experience to match their needs” – is essentially a customer-centric approach that couldn’t be more different from the old Jeffries approach. Where Abercrombie once dictated a fantasy to consumers, it now listens and adapts to them. That includes the simple realisation: diversity is a business imperative. In fact, part of the 2004 consent decree was a line from civil rights attorneys noting “Abercrombie now realises diversity makes good business sense”– a lesson it took the company another decade to truly embrace.

Lessons for retail

Abercrombie & Fitch’s DEI journey – from exclusive to inclusive (and still in progress) – offers several powerful lessons for retailers and consumer brands in general:

• Exclusion is not a sustainable strategy: What might create short-term buzz, or a feeling of “elite” coolness, can backfire spectacularly. Catering to a narrow ideal of beauty or identity alienates large segments of potential customers and ultimately becomes a liability as societal values evolve. In retail, coolness is a moving target, but respect and inclusion have enduring value. Brands that hinge their appeal on putting others down are on borrowed time.
• Diversity and inclusion are smart business: Embracing DEI is not just a moral stance but a market opportunity. A&F learned the hard way that exclusion comes with real business consequences. By excluding large demographics (whether through limited sizing, racist imagery, or biased hiring), Abercrombie left money on the table for years. Retailers succeed when customers feel seen and welcome – which translates into broader market reach and loyalty. Companies, from department stores to startups, can take note: an inclusive brand can attract a wider customer base and avoid unnecessary reputational risks.
• Toxic culture starts at the top: Abercrombie’s downfall illustrates how leadership attitudes cascade into company culture. Jeffries’ openly exclusionary philosophy became “baked in” to every policy, from hiring to marketing. Leaders in any organisation must recognise their role in setting the tone. A culture that tolerates discrimination or objectification in any form will eventually face scandal or legal action, as seen with A&F’s lawsuits and even the personal misconduct allegations against its former CEO. Conversely, leadership commitment to inclusion can drive positive change – Horowitz’s approach has clearly helped rehabilitate Abercrombie’s culture and image.
• Accountability and continuous improvement: A&F’s initial responses (settlements, hiring a diversity officer, etc.) were not enough because they weren’t accompanied by genuine accountability or attitude shifts. The consent decree imposed changes, but once external monitoring ended, old habits crept back. True inclusion is an ongoing effort, not a one-off PR fix. Retailers must continuously engage with diverse voices (employees, customers, consultants) to identify blind spots and hold themselves accountable to progress even when public attention wanes.
• Representation matters: One of the simplest takeaways is the importance of representation in both branding and staffing. Abercrombie’s story shows that seeing only one type of person in ads or in sales roles sends a message – and people notice. Modern consumers expect brands, especially mainstream retailers and department stores, to reflect the real diversity of society. This means featuring different races, body types, ages, and abilities in advertising, and ensuring inclusive hiring from the sales floor to the boardroom. Representation isn’t about political correctness; it tangibly impacts how welcome customers and employees feel.

Conclusion: DEI as part of retail resilience

The saga of Abercrombie & Fitch serves as a lesson from the field in how a deliberately cultivated image of exclusivity became a company’s Achilles’ heel. What was once heralded as “aspirational” came to be seen as discriminatory and out of touch. The people most hurt along the way were those whom A&F’s leadership chose to exclude – racial minorities denied jobs, young women shamed for their bodies, individuals whose sense of self-worth took a hit from not “belonging” in the A&F world. In the end, Abercrombie paid the price in lawsuits, lost customers, and a near-collapse of the business.

Yet, Abercrombie & Fitch’s ongoing reinvention also demonstrates that change is possible, if not always easy. The company has begun rebuilding trust by doing what it should have done all along: embracing inclusion as part of its brand identity. As explored further in the IADS White Paper DEI at a crossroads in retail, Abercrombie & Fitch is not an isolated case; it sits alongside other global retail examples that show how progress on DEI can stall, reverse, or regain momentum depending on leadership focus and sustained commitment. Inclusion and diversity are not antithetical to a cool brand – they are the new currency of cool. A&F’s fall and rise underline a broader truth: in today’s world, the brands that thrive will be those that make everyone feel like they belong. Abercrombie & Fitch had to learn this through failure, but others can heed the lesson upfront – exclusivity might sell cologne and T-shirts for a season, but inclusion sells longevity.

Credits: IADS (Maya Sankoh)