How D2C Lost Its Way
How something genuinely disruptive became generic, distrustful, and quietly uncool.
Around 2015 and 2016, D2C felt electric. It cracked open categories that had barely changed in decades and invited millennials to shop differently. Buying a mattress online was radical. No fluorescent showrooms. No awkward hovering salespeople. No figuring out delivery logistics after lying on a dozen beds in public. The internet made previously annoying, outdated experiences feel modern, simple, and human.
D2C also made products feel personal in a way mass retail never had. Customization mattered. A frying pan could match your kitchen. A water bottle could match your outfit. Products stopped being anonymous and started reflecting identity, taste, and lifestyle. That shift was real, and it was meaningful.
Then the market flooded.
What began as innovation quickly turned into replication. Mattress brands multiplied overnight, all promising the same thing, all using the same language, all backed by nearly identical supply chains. Once the novelty wore off, “buying direct” stopped being interesting. It became table stakes. Cool wasn’t enough anymore, because everything looked cool.
At the same time, consumers got smarter. We learned how these businesses actually worked. Same factories. Same materials. Same products. Different logos. Different colors. Different Instagram feeds. D2C started to feel less like innovation and more like white labeling wrapped in good branding. The value proposition thinned fast.
Accessibility, which once felt empowering, became a liability. When everything is always available, endlessly discounted, and designed to scale as fast as possible, prestige disappears. Quality becomes suspect. D2C quietly became shorthand for cheaply made, mass-market products. Trust eroded.
Visually, it didn’t help. The bright colors, bubbly sans serif typefaces, and relentlessly cheerful branding began to feel interchangeable. What once signaled modernity started to signal sameness. The more classically D2C something looked, the less credible it felt. Consumers didn’t just lose interest. They became skeptical. Gen Z sees this clearly. The idea of buying five identical products in different colors feels absurd to them. Excess masquerading as self expression. What once felt aspirational now feels deeply millennial, and not in a flattering way.
What’s happening now is a correction.
There is a return to products that feel considered, differentiated, and well made. To heritage. To craftsmanship. To restraint. To fewer things, chosen more intentionally. Luxury is regaining its footing not because of price, but because of trust, longevity, and care. For the most part, D2C as we knew it is over. It is no longer exciting. It no longer signals innovation. It signals a specific moment in time, and that moment has passed. The next era will not be about access alone. It will be about meaning.