Gen Z in Mexico:Cultural Omnivores
Why the “global” marketing bias is failing in Latin America’s most complex market
If your brand strategy for Mexico was built on Deloitte studies about North American millennials, or borrowed from a European Gen Z campaign playbook, you’re probably talking to a ghost. The cultural profile of Mexican youth aged 18 to 27 doesn’t fit any of the archetypes that dominate the global marketing conversation.
Not because they’re an anomaly — but because they’re the product of a unique ecosystem: a country of 130 million people, deep structural inequality, a popular culture that operates simultaneously at local and global scale, and family ties that no theory of modern individualism has managed to dissolve.
At Syncretic, we’ve spent years conducting digital ethnographies and in-home interviews in the natural spaces where these young people live. What we find is not what international trend reports predict. It’s richer, more contradictory, and — for brands — far more actionable.
1. The Detachment Myth
Why Mexican Gen Z still wants what their parents wanted
The dominant narrative in global marketing paints Gen Z as the generation of “structural detachment”: rejecting marriage, renouncing ownership, preferring experiences over possessions. It’s a narrative that makes sense in economies where young people can choose not to own a car because public transit works, or where “renting forever” is a viable, socially accepted option.
Mexico is not that place.
In our qualitative studies with 18–26-year-olds in Mexico City, Guadalajara, Monterrey, and mid-sized cities, we found a generation that intensely wants things global marketing has already declared obsolete:
Homeownership as a real horizon
Not as a status symbol, but as a condition of autonomy. Living with parents isn’t seen as failure — it’s the economic norm — but owning a car and an apartment remain clearly stated goals, articulated with frequency and pride.
87% of Mexican young adults without a home plan to buy one — not as a lifestyle aspiration but as a concrete life plan. (Source: Encuesta de Vivienda por Generaciones, tucasanueva.com.mx, 2024)
Family as foundation, not constraint
The narrative of “the millennial fleeing the traditional family” didn’t land the same way in Mexico. Mexican Gen Z maintains deep emotional ties with their parents and grandparents, actively incorporating them in their decision-making — from clothing purchases to career choices. This isn’t a lack of individualism. It’s a collectivist form of individual identity that no Western segmentation model properly accounts for.
The desire for family as a personal project
Against the global “childfree by choice” discourse that dominates anglophone Gen Z TikTok, Mexican young people in our studies talk about wanting children without apologizing for it. It’s not a cultural imposition they’ve accepted — it’s, in many cases, a genuine desire they articulate clearly.
Brand implication: If your positioning is built on detachment values, the freedom of “having nothing to lose,” or the promise of “breaking the rules,” your message is misaligned with the emotional reality of millions of Mexican consumers. Young people here aren’t running from their roots — they’re building on them, in their own way.
2. The Age of Cultural Simultaneity
The end of tribes and the birth of the cultural omnivore
For two decades, youth marketing operated on the “urban tribes” model: identify the group your consumer belongs to (skater, metalhead, streetwear kid, K-pop fan) and speak their language. It was a clean model. Segmentable. Comfortable for media planners.
That model is dead in Mexico.
Mexican Gen Z doesn’t belong to one tribe. They inhabit several identities simultaneously, none of them in conflict. The same young person can identify aesthetically with the electronic underground on Friday night, listen to corridos tumbados during the Saturday morning commute, wear upcycled gothic fashion on Sunday, and have K-pop merch covering their bedroom walls. There’s no contradiction here. It’s simultaneity.
We call this phenomenon cultural omnivores: consumers who don’t rank their cultural consumptions hierarchically, but accumulate them as layers of a porous, permanently evolving identity.
The New Underground
Techno, darkwave, and punk are experiencing a renaissance among Mexican youth aged 18–24 who never lived through the 90s. This isn’t nostalgia — it’s aesthetic appropriation. Mexico City’s electronic scene has an energy that rivals Berlin in artistic ambition, and the cybersigilism aesthetic (digital tattoos, geometric fonts, visual identity mixing mysticism and technology) is one of the most recognizable visual languages among these young people.
Global fandoms with local roots
Anime and K-pop stopped being niche at least five years ago in Mexico. Today they’re engines of mass consumption that permeate socioeconomic strata, genders, and geographies. A young person from Tepito and one from Las Lomas can share the same BTS playlist or Demon Slayer fandom — cultural consumption brings them together where social class divides them.
The sound that ties it all together
Corridos tumbados and “chilango” reggaeton serve a unique function in this ecosystem: they’re the common denominator that crosses all aesthetics. The young person who listens to techno at night and wears upcycled gothic fashion by day can sing every word of Peso Pluma’s latest corrido. This genre is the social glue of the generation.
Fashion as political manifesto
Upcycling — redesigning and transforming second-hand clothing — isn’t just a sustainability trend in Mexico. It’s an active manifesto against fast fashion, with explicit ideological weight. Brands that treat this behavior as a “sustainability branded content opportunity” without understanding its political dimension will read it wrong.
Brand implication: Stop segmenting by tribe and start understanding simultaneity. Your consumer isn’t “the K-pop fan” or “the corridos fan” — they’re both at once. Segmenting by values, consumption moments, or cultural insight is more effective than segmenting by aesthetic tribe.
3. The Humor of the Periphery
Why polished aspirationality no longer connects
For years, aspirational marketing in Mexico operated on a clear formula: show the young consumer a better version of themselves — more successful, more polished, more traveled, further removed from the barrio. The middle class as destination. The corporate world as promise.
That formula is broken.
Mexican Gen Z doesn’t want to escape the neighborhood. They want the neighborhood to be recognized. And the content creators who best understand this are the ones with tens of millions of views.
El Iztaparrasta
He built a multi-million following on TikTok and Instagram with humor rooted in the codes, language, and everyday situations of Iztapalapa — one of Mexico City’s largest and most stigmatized boroughs. His comedy isn’t about “how to get out of Iza” but about living in Iztapalapa with pride and intelligence. For a young person from that borough — or from any urban periphery in Mexico — watching him is an act of recognition. For brands that only cast talent from Polanco, it’s an invisible universe.
Insulini and Josuesy
They operate in a similar register: sharp humor, class codes, cultural references that only make sense if you grew up in certain contexts. It’s not “niche” humor — it’s humor that understands the complexity of being young, poor, and brilliant in Mexico, and doesn’t apologize for it. What unites these creators isn’t negativity or resentment — it’s the ironic celebration of a reality that mainstream marketing has systematically ignored.
The forced “authenticity” trap
Some brands have already started trying to “talk like the barrio” without understanding the barrio — and the results tend to go viral for the wrong reasons. Mexican Gen Z has a finely calibrated authenticity detector. They can tell the difference between a brand that genuinely respects their culture and one using it as a seasonal costume. The most common mistake is confusing language with understanding: using TikTok slang without grasping the cosmology behind it.
Brand implication: The next great space of authentic connection with Mexican Gen Z isn’t with the polished aspirational macro-influencer. It’s with creators who come from the periphery and celebrate it. But proximity alone isn’t enough. You have to understand why they have the audience they have before designing any activation.
4. Shopping Cart Activism
The deliberate veto as a new form of consumer power
Gen Z activism doesn’t only live in protesters. It lives in the phone, in the moment of deciding what to add to the cart.
What we’ve been observing in our qualitative studies over the past two years goes beyond social media “cancellation”: a systematic, deliberate, and often irreversible abandonment of brands detected as incoherent. It’s not impulsive. It’s not a reaction to a tweet. It’s a deliberate decision, frequently shared among friends, and in many cases, permanent.
The most exposed categories are the most intimate ones: makeup, personal care, and fashion — precisely the industries that invested most in “speaking Gen Z’s language” without necessarily transforming their practices.
Three triggers we documented in fieldwork
1. Questionable ingredients. Young consumers are reading labels in a way no previous generation had done at this scale. TikTok has functioned as a mass education platform for beauty ingredients — retinol, niacinamide, parabens, sulfates — and that knowledge became a permanent auditing tool. A brand with flagged ingredients by dermatology TikTok risks abandonment without any public scandal. The scrutiny is silent and continuous.
2. Gender-stereotyped communication. The tolerance threshold for sexism in advertising is significantly lower in this generation. This doesn’t mean every young Mexican woman is a visible activist — it means that communication assuming rigid gender roles quietly generates friction that translates into silent abandonment, not viral outrage.
3. Incoherent discourse. The gap between what a brand says and what it actually does in its labor, environmental, or representation practices is visible to a generation that grew up with access to information about internal corporate practices. Coherence is no longer a differentiator — it’s the floor.
Feminist activism as a driver of purchasing decisions
The feminist movement in Mexico has a street expression with no equivalent elsewhere in Latin America — the March 8th mobilizations, the green glitter, the urban interventions — and that street energy has a direct extension in how young women make purchasing decisions. Politics doesn’t stay in the plaza: it reaches the shopping cart.
We’ve documented in qualitative studies how groups of friends actively coordinate the abandonment of brands they perceive as aligned with aggressors, indifferent to gender violence, or as opportunists of feminist language without real commitment. This doesn’t always produce viral cancellations — sometimes it simply produces the silent disappearance of customers who never return.
Brand implication: The cost of incoherence is no longer just reputational — it’s economic and sustained. Brands that enter the conversation around gender, sustainability, or diversity without first auditing their own practices are building on sand.
WHAT THIS MEANS FOR YOUR BRAND STRATEGY
Four principles for building with real Mexican Gen Z
Mexican Gen Z is not the Gen Z that global reports describe. They’re more complex, more contradictory, more loyal to their roots, and more uncompromising in their values than any international benchmark can capture.
First. Respect traditional aspiration.
Not every young Mexican wants to “break the rules.” Many want exactly what their parents wanted — just in their own way. Brands that frame freedom as synonymous with rejecting the established are losing a massive audience that finds freedom precisely in building what they value.
Second. Abandon tribal segmentation.
Cultural omnivores don’t fit into boxes. The brief that says “let’s talk to the K-pop fans” is artificially cutting a person with six simultaneous identities. Segmenting by values, consumption moments, or cultural insight is more effective than segmenting by aesthetic tribe.
Third. Listen to the periphery before speaking to it.
The most relevant creators for this generation don’t come from advertising — they come from Iztapalapa, Neza, from Tepito, from the neighborhoods that mainstream marketing has spent decades ignoring. Before any activation in that universe, you need to understand it from the inside.
Fourth. Align before you communicate.
Gen Z runs permanent coherence audits. If your practice doesn’t back your discourse, the cost is no longer just a two-week reputation crisis — it’s the permanent loss of a generation of consumers who don’t come back.
At Syncretic, this is exactly the work we specialize in: digital ethnography, online communities with young people, in-depth interviews, and cultural layer analysis that quantitative studies can’t see. Mexico is not an emerging market that needs to be “modernized” with playbooks from the global north. It’s a complex cultural ecosystem that demands research done from the inside.
Is your brand talking to real Mexican youth, or to an imported stereotype?
The End of Childhood? The Metamorphosis of Generation Alpha in Mexico
At Syncretic, we are passionate about understanding what really happens behind the doors of Mexican households. Through mixed methodologies—such as digital ethnographies (video-tasks) and in-depth conversations in the everyday spaces of children and mothers—we have identified a clear transformation: childhood in Mexico is getting shorter.
This is not just a change in tastes. It's a reconfiguration of childhood identity driven by regulation, technology, and security. That's why we mapped four phenomena that we observe in the field and what they mean for brands that want to connect with this market intelligently.
1. The Semiotic Void: From Character to "Alert"
For decades, characters like Pancho Pantera, Bimbo Bear, or Tony the Tiger functioned as mediators between brands and children. They were not just mascots: they were figures of trust, breakfast companions, everyday presences in the family pantry.
As many already know, with NOM-051, these characters disappeared from packaging and the logic is clear. Mexico is one of the countries with the highest rate of childhood obesity in the world, and the scientific evidence on the impact of characters on children's food preferences is compelling. However, the collateral effect is what interests us as researchers: a semiotic void was created at the most everyday contact point between brands and children.
"The product will now be purchased for its composition and not for its image. Brands must start building emotional bonds based on some other element or symbol, introducing themselves from scratch."
Prof. Andrea Trujillo, Department of Marketing, Tecnológico de Monterrey Santa Fe
In the field, what we see is this: the child no longer has an "ambassador" who speaks to them in their language inside the pantry. Brands have shifted from being "play friends" to being functional products. The packaging, when communicating warnings, seals and percentages, displays information designed for the mother's evaluation and not to catch the child's attention for what they desire.
The strategic challenge this opens is enormous. If the brand can no longer seduce the child at the supermarket, the opportunity shifts to other spaces where the child interacts without parental filter: YouTube, Roblox, Twitch, TikTok. And in those channels, the territory is not regulated in the same way, so brands that understand this first will have an advantage in building new connections.
2. The "Cosmetization" of Childhood
In 2024, Sephora stores in the United States, Europe, and Mexico experienced a phenomenon that took employees, parents, and dermatologists by surprise: girls between 8 and 13 years old arriving in groups to explore, test, and buy skincare products: retinol, vitamin C serum, eye contour, and bronzers. Products designed for adult skin, being claimed by elementary school girls.
The phenomenon, known as Sephora Kids, is born on social media, where girls replicate content from adult influencers: "Get Ready With Me" clips, makeup tutorials, and unboxings.
"They don't need them, of course, but their references are teenagers appearing on TikTok doing GRWM. Beauty brands are not directing this content to the child sector; it is the girls who consume and replicate them."
Analysis, UAEH / Sephora Kids: the obsession with imposing beauty standards
What we find in our studies in Mexican homes goes beyond cosmetics. There is a displacement of the play space: in a Mexico where public space has been reduced due to insecurity (more on this in the next point), "play" has moved to the mirror and the camera. The skincare routine becomes performance, content, identity. And the girls are not testing products; they are building a digital character.
For brands, this represents a tension: risk and opportunity. And Mexican families are negotiating this consumption with ambivalence. Brands that position themselves as allies of responsible self-care can gain relevance, especially with profiles of "curator moms" who seek balance in the face of new trends at home.
3. Consumption of "Adult-Centric" Content
Generation Alpha in Mexico practically does not consume children's television. Their media diet is dominated by content from YouTube, TikTok, and streaming platforms featuring young adults talking about their romantic relationships, their mental health problems, their finances, and their personal conflicts.
And if we review the data, key matrices appear:
National surveys cited by Excélsior indicate that 77% of Mexican children aged 12 to 15 browse between 6 and 8 hours daily on the internet.
A report by Samy Alliance found that 49% of Alpha children trust influencers as much as their own family for making purchase decisions.
And 55% of these actively want to buy products that their favorite influencers recommend.
"Consuming influencer content became part of their daily life. Children who today are no more than 14 years old are active digital users from birth."
Daniela Castillo, researcher, Department of Social Relations, UAM Xochimilco
What is interesting to explore further? The gap between the child's emotional maturity and the thematic universe of the content they consume. A 9-year-old who spends hours watching a 24-year-old YouTuber talk about anxiety, romantic breakups, and debt is not processing that content with the same frames of reference as an adult. They absorb it literally, as the "standard" of behavior to follow, as a model of what it means to be older.
The result is accelerated adultification in their language, their concerns, and their aspirations. Ten-year-olds talking about "their personal brand" and analyzing whether an influencer "is authentic" or "is selling out." That is, we are facing media sophistication without the emotional maturity to process it.
For brands seeking to connect with this segment, the challenge is subtle: speak in Generation Alpha children's code without infantilizing them, but also without artificially pushing them into an adulthood that parents reject. It is a delicate balance that requires in-depth qualitative research and not just digital metrics analysis.
4. Physical Toys in Retreat: From Action Figure to Gadget
The day a Mexican 8-year-old prefers 400 Robux to an action figure is the day the traditional toy market needs to rethink its value proposition from scratch.
Market figures confirm the structural pressure. According to Circana data, global toy sector sales decreased 1% in the first half of 2024, following a 7% drop in 2023. In Mexico, the market continues to grow in absolute value, but the mix of categories is changing: 42% of Alpha children make purchases within video games, 53% acquire applications or digital downloads, and 34% pay for gaming subscriptions and passes, according to a PwC report cited by industry analysts.
The National Survey of Audiovisual Content Consumption by IFT reported that 54% of children and adolescents in Mexico play video games with an average of two hours daily. But what we find in our household studies goes beyond screen time: it is the social meaning of the digital object versus the physical object that has fundamentally changed.
"Play today is intangible, social, and digital. The physical object has lost its status as a currency of social exchange in the face of the server experience."
Ethnographic observation, Syncretic studies 2023-2024
On the playground, the conversation no longer revolves around who has the rarest figure from a collection. It revolves around who has more Robux, who unlocked a certain skin in Roblox, who has the battle pass. The social capital that the collectible toy once accumulated is now accumulated by the digital asset. And the digital asset does not depreciate, does not break, does not get lost: it is always on the server, available to display.
For toy manufacturers and children's consumer brands, this has direct implications for portfolio strategy. The toy that has no digital component, no platform extension, or associated online community is competing in a shrinking market. The toy that does have that extension, on the other hand, is at the center of where Generation Alpha children live.
Opportunities for Brands: A New Discourse
This scenario is not just a map of risks. It is also a map of opportunities for consumer companies and foreign agencies that want to establish intelligent dialogues with the Mexican market. That's why we propose reviewing three important concrete vectors:
Co-creation with the "Curator Mom"
The Mexican mother of an 8 to 12-year-old Alpha child is navigating a permanent tension: she wants her child to have access to the best, but she also watches the sugar, screen time, cosmetic ingredients, and content her child consumes. She is neither the permissive mother nor the prohibitionist mother. She is the mom who filters, who negotiates, who cares with criteria.
Fewer students and too many questions.
Schools, colleges, and universities know this: when enrollment drops, something’s off.
It’s a clear symptom — but usually the last to appear, signaling that the issue started long before.
For the leadership at the Colegio de Psicoanálisis Lacaniano or The College of Lacanian Psychoanalysis in English, the decline in their postgraduate enrollment was a red flag that brought them to us.
They needed to understand what was happening — and what to do next.
Had the student profile shifted? Was it a matter of perceived value? Or was it competitive pressure?
They weren’t sure.
One of the biggest challenges was the lack of clear hypotheses and a tight budget. Therefore, the study had to be cost-effective without compromising depth.
To them, it felt like walking in the dark, trying not to trip. And our role was to design a lean, accessible, and effective approach to shed light on the real drivers behind the enrollment decline.
Early conversations revealed a critical insight: They had a database of people who had requested information but never followed through with enrollment. We recruited a few of them for one-on-one interviews — and went straight to the source.
That’s how we uncovered their perceptions, needs, and barriers — to build strategies that could strengthen both recruitment and retention.
The outcome was clear. We identified four major roadblocks that were hindering enrollment. For each one, we uncovered specific, actionable insights — supported by direct quotes — to ground our recommendations.
Now, recruitment wouldn’t be a shot in the dark — but a strategy that felt more personal, more empathetic, and real.
This project reminded us why we do what we do: When there are too many questions, the best thing is to stop guessing — and talk with the people who hold the answers and the truth.
One plot of land. Many needs. Little certainty.
When disaster strikes, Mexicans often surprise the world with how quickly we manage to help those in need. That spirit of solidarity is part of our DNA.
Fundación Acércate is a clear example of this. It was born after the 1985 earthquake, bringing together people already actively involved in their communities. A few years ago, they came to us with a clear purpose: to bring a major community project to life.
The foundation had an unused plot of land in the Palo Solo neighborhood, on the western edge of Mexico City. Their goal was to help integrate the residents in this area through a community center that would respond to their real needs.
The challenge? Too many possibilities, no clear path forward, and limited resources to make it happen.
That’s why they invited us to get to know the people who would benefit from this change. Inspired by their mission, we conducted four focus groups at no cost, bringing together both active members of the foundation and local residents— as principal benefactors.
The sessions took place at Acércate’s educational community center, where we explored what daily life in this neighborhood looks like to identify patterns and specific needs.
The results were enlightening. From the voices of neighbors and foundation members, we understood what these families were truly seeking: a common good that would promote connection and overall well-being, especially for children and the elderly.
With these insights, we proposed afternoon activities for kids and adults, therapeutic support, community events, and more.
In the end, this project became a real driver of change—one that helped the community not only survive, but grow stronger and thrive together.
Small businesses, big questions, and limited budgets
Throughout my career, I’ve conducted market research mainly for large Mexican and global brands—companies that typically have an established research culture and allocate significant budgets to listening to their consumers.
But on the other side, there are smaller brands that also have that need, and most of all, the desire, to understand what their current or potential customers think. The reality, however, is that standardized agency fees are often out of reach for this kind of business.
In 2020, my partner and I founded Syncretic, a qualitative research agency that works with major brands—but also supports small businesses and startups. Our philosophy is simple: we believe in democratizing market research and making it accessible for more companies.
So, how do we do it?
First, it’s essential to understand that smaller brands have limited budgets—and we need to be empathetic to that to offer a cost-effective research study without compromising the quality of the results.
One of the key values that makes this possible is creativity. When you know your research methodologies well, you can adapt them to new contexts. In 2022, we had the pleasure of working with the talented chef Paulina Abascal on a study for her cake line, The Wish Cakes.
Taking into account her needs and limitations, we designed a mystery shopper–inspired methodology: we recruited people willing to bring the cakes to their events and report back on how they were received.
As you might imagine, we had no shortage of volunteers. So we selected participants who were responsible and committed to capturing photo and video evidence of the reception, in order to detect potential areas of improvement.
For the brand, this consumer feedback was incredibly valuable—we used it to develop a tailored strategy for their growth plan.
Flexibility in our process has also been key. It means going beyond standard practices—like assuming participants always need a cash incentive. We’ve learned that many people are more than willing to participate in a study if they’re genuinely interested in the product.
In another project for The Positive Foods, a healthy food brand, we recruited people who followed specific diets (Keto, Paleo, low-carb, etc.) and offered them a product kit to try at home.
After trying the products, we brought them together in an online focus group to share their experiences. Most of them told us they were happy just to participate—proving that the product itself was more than enough of an incentive.
Something that surprised and delighted us was what happened at the end of those focus groups: the client joined the session to thank everyone for their participation. It sparked a warm, honest conversation that broke down the usual participant–client barrier. Another sign of how far flexibility can take us.
In the end, it was incredibly rewarding to give both of these brands—regardless of their size—a way to truly listen to their consumers. The insights they gained have been valuable decision-making tools.
Working with startups and small businesses has also taught us lessons we now apply across all our projects: empathy, creativity, and flexibility. Also, you don’t need massive sample sizes or big budgets to hear what your consumers have to say.
Mexican identity: Saying vs. Pride
In Mexico, there’s a saying: “Del dicho al hecho hay mucho trecho” — roughly, this means that “There’s a long road from what you say and what you do or mean.” Few communication campaigns illustrate this saying better than one we recently worked on for one of the country’s most iconic confectionery brands.
The brand had developed a campaign centered on Mexican pride, inspired by what they imagined was the spirit of the “barrio” or the subculture of the streets. The goal was to reconnect with an audience that, with age, was starting to drift away: young teens. The idea was powerful in theory — but the quantitative testing told a different story. What seemed ideal on paper, failed to resonate in real life.
We responded quickly to this conundrum by creating an online community with teenagers from across the country to truly understand their view of the barrio, their sense of identity, and the symbols they genuinely relate to. To achieve this, we combined projective techniques with visual stimuli that uncovered far more than surface-level answers.
From the outset, we suspected a disconnection. But it was through qualitative analysis that we uncovered not just what had missed the mark, but why.
The key insight was clear: the solemn tone of the campaign clashed with the vibrant, playful, and down-to-earth spirit that these young people associated with the brand. What was intended as a message of national pride came across as distant and as an out-of-touch resolution.
Based on these findings, we proposed an emotional narrative where street humor, cheekiness, and spontaneous joy took the center stage. We also defined four strategic territories to help the brand build messaging that feels authentic, relevant, and emotionally resonant with its audience.
The result was a new conceptual platform with a truly Mexican soul — one that didn’t just talk about identity, but embodied it through everyday experiences as an emotional truth.
Low price, low excitement… high potential
Low priced or cheap is often perceived as inferior quality. It doesn’t matter the industry or context; this collective belief can easily become a major barrier to connecting with your ideal consumer.
That was the core challenge for one of our clients: a British multinational company specialized in sweets and confectionery. Their project focused on exploring opportunities within the “low spend” segment of the candy market.
The initial product concept, due to its very low price, didn’t spark much excitement among the target audience: teenagers. And reconnecting with a growing generation isn’t as easy as they become more aware of their surroundings, of what’s in and what’s not.
That’s why a low-cost offer can trigger rejection, as this group often associates higher prices with better quality.
While understanding this, we took a closer look at consumers with lower purchasing power—even at younger ages. It was at that anthropological observation where we found fertile ground.
We discovered that accessible products aren’t just about the price tag—they serve social and emotional purposes too. They’re easy to share, help persuade parents to complete the purchase, and are linked to everyday moments that don’t require a big budget—like leaving school and stopping by the corner store.
Based on these insights, we recommended rethinking the product concept. Rather than positioning it as a “mini version,” we reframed it as a tailored offering for a specific audience—highlighting its everyday value, its potential for flavor combinations, and its ability to create playful moments.
What this project needed was a strategic lens to turn commercial doubt into a clear opportunity for the brand. And yes, low price and low excitement can hide a high potential.
Healthy Convenience That Missed the Mark
Healthy convenience that missed the mark
In the world of healthy foods, the air fryer marked a clear turning point—especially after the pandemic, when its popularity skyrocketed. This shift opened new possibilities for many brands that successfully aligned their value proposition with emerging kitchen habits.
Our client, a global food company, wanted to capitalize on this opportunity. Among their proposals was a new line of frozen snacks designed for consumers seeking convenience without compromising their healthy lifestyle. To validate the innovation, we carried out a two-phase qualitative study.
First, we evaluated the communication concepts through qualitative interviews. Then, we conducted a second phase using an ethnographic approach, which allowed us to gain a deeper understanding of consumer behaviors, habits, and preferences regarding air fryer usage.
From the very first phase, something didn’t click: enthusiasm simply didn't take off. It wasn't until the second phase that we had a deeper understanding of what was going on. By exploring habits, tensions, and motivations, we identified key opportunities to refocus both the product and its communication.
Our findings helped redefine the strategy by prioritizing more relevant benefits, appropriate channels, and messages that truly resonated with the everyday lives of this audience. The result was a more genuine connection with the product and greater openness toward this type of innovation.