How Beer Advertising, Once the Industry's Gold Standard, Can Get Its Mojo Back

Insurance campaigns point the way

There was a time when beer ads were the gold standard of advertising. They were big, dumb, funny, joyful spectacles that built characters, punchlines and entire worlds. From Budweiser’s “Whassup?” and Dos Equis’ “The Most Interesting Man in the World,” to Coors Light’s “Love Train” and Corona’s “Find Your Beach,” these campaigns didn’t just sell beer. They created culture. There’s a reason we still remember them decades later.

But beer has lost its grip on the popular conversation. The category is more crowded than ever: over 9,900 breweries in the U.S. and thousands of other companies competing for attention across spirits, wine and ready-to-drink cocktails. Hard seltzers are stealing social occasions, canned wines are edging into casual nights and non-alcoholic beverages are on the rise. 

Bank of America analysts recently summed it up in brutal terms: “Beer players are sheep, ceding customers and attention while beer consumption continues to decline.”

Ouch.

And recent beer advertising reflects this. Years of drifting to the middle, with lifestyle wallpaper, generic toasts to “good times,” celebrity cameos and premium cues have made the category feel bland. Meanwhile, a low-interest, low-differentiation category—insurance—is somehow doing high-interest, high-character work.

The New Life of the Party 

Insurance has figured out how to be fun and entertaining by mastering character-driven storytelling. Here at Arnold Worldwide, we’ve helped Progressive’s Flo serve as a business driver for 17 years. And Dr. Rick is helping millennials un-become their parents. Allstate’s Mayhem, the OG Geico Gecko and State Farm’s khaki-clad Jake are all characters that create distinction where there was none. They deliver product features wrapped in punchlines and inspire Halloween costumes, SNL skits, Jeopardy questions and fan theories on TikTok. They create culture. Just like beer used to do.

Insurance wins because it knows what it is. It’s not pretending to be glamorous or edgy. It’s almost painfully self-aware. That’s because the realities embedded in insurance are painfully real—invisible product, unwanted presence, sorely commoditized. These realities demand entertainment. Insurance knows it’s the least fun part of your life. So, the least it can do is try to be a little more likable.

Beer, however, feels like it has forgotten what made it irresistible—camaraderie, shenanigans and a magnetism that pulled people in.

The Few Exceptions 

Guinness. A 266-year-old Irish stout is thriving with Gen Z by doubling down on something unfashionable yet vital: ritual. A ritual that’s been reinterpreted, not reinvented (splitting the G, waiting for the perfect pour). They have a clear tone of voice, a consistent brand world and a sense of identity that feels earned, not fabricated.

Imports like Modelo and wellness-aligned brands like Michelob Ultra are winning by riding larger positioning waves—health-forward drinking, global cachet and shifting demographics.  

But other legacy players have struggled. Brands like Corona, once synonymous with escapism, feel invisible in a culture desperate to escape. Budweiser’s Americana nostalgia and Miller Lite’s blue-collar pride have faded. 

The Path Back to Cultural Relevance

Beer is facing plenty of headwinds—changing tastes, economic realities, crowded shelves. Instead of chasing aspirational lifestyles, beer could lean into the truths of humanity relevant to 2025. In a world where people are using “Buy Now, Pay Later” to cover groceries, maybe entertainment, fun and silliness—the unapologetically unserious side of beer—is the antidote we need. Insurance ads have kept comedy alive in a tense, polarized time. Beer should follow suit.

Maybe it is time to welcome back the misfits, the party animals, the “hold my beer” energy. It’s possible to reboot the distinct voices, sharp comedic timing and absurdities that once made beer a shared cultural language. 

Culture has changed, but the fantasy remains. It’s about being at the bar but wishing you were at the beach. Even if that beach is scrolling #BookTok with a beer and lime in hand after a long day. Or forsaking the $20 kale smoothie for a roadie on the way to a game instead. 

If beer wants to earn its place back, it needs clarity, consistency, and conviction.  

It needs a ritual: Create small, satisfying acts that make beer more than a drink, from the perfect pour to the clink of a bottle at sunset.

It needs character: Dream up people, voices and ideas you can’t mistake for anyone else’s—the way Flo belongs to Progressive. Celebrities can work too, but only if they’re in service to the idea. 

It needs a voice: Craft a way of speaking that doesn’t try to be everything to everyone, but makes it feel like the brand gets you. Coors Banquet had it with Sam Elliot’s gravel and gravitas. Now that was a voice for a specific kind of person. Corona’s best work had no V.O. at all, proving that silence can carry just as much weight. 

It needs a POV: Not just on beer, but on life, so it’s part of the conversation, not just a spectator.

And it needs a world to belong to: Establish a brand universe people can step into, stay in, and bring their friends to. Somewhere with rules, inside jokes and lore. This should help viewers feel they’re part of something bigger than the bottle in their hand.