Nicotine is back in the spotlight, packaged for a new era.

It is not news to anyone that people have long been drawn to smoking for its aesthetic and social allure, with nicotine as a direct correlate. While studies are showing that young people are smoking less cigarettes than the generations prior, you would never know that on college campuses. More recently, the newest nicotine trend has taken off with the rapid spread of Swedish Zyn nicotine pouches amongst young adults. Small, discrete, and effective, Zyns are about consuming nicotine for its own sake. 

Originally marketed as an alternative to smoking, their consumer base has expanded to people who never have before. Zyns have undeniably become one of the biggest trends of 2024. The reasons for nicotine’s new and improved reputation seem to be rooted in scientific discoveries about the product itself, enhanced by marketing that goes beyond factual benefit into perception and identity.

The emergence of alternative nicotine products are however still linked to changes in smoking popularity. Smoking declines as cancer research and state taxes are on the rise. Today’s enduring smokers do so with full awareness of the risks and a whopping $5.35 added charge per pack. But users are still unlikely to shake nicotine altogether, especially given recent scientific support.  More than just a means for relief, nicotine is now known to have an extensive list of benefits. It can help with parkinsons, schizophrenia, depression, ADHD, and weight loss. There has long been high demand for “healthier” ways to consume nicotine. 

International tobacco company Phillip Morris is leading the new wave of nicotine consumption with innovative products propped up by extensive digital marketing. In 2022 they got ahead of the biggest nicotine craze since vaping when they bought Zyn from its Swedish creators. The pouches are PMI’s golden goose, contributing to a 30% market value increase in the last year alone.  

Soon after Phillip Morris bought Zyn, their popularity skyrocketed. The pouches took over social media, generating off-putting levels of enthusiasm and cult-like obsession. “Zynfluencers” rushed to push the product onto their young followers advertising it as if it’s the cure to all ills, including big Zyn supporter Tucker Carlson who said it helped with erectile dysfunction (a claim that was promptly refuted by Philip Morris). I can’t think of another single product from one brand that generated so much content so quickly: it’s the punchline of skits, the key step in morning routines, and the subject of hundreds of hours of podcast discussions. On subreddit r/Frat, you can find the 282 (so far) reported nicknames for Zyns, from “Monica Lezynsky”, “Zynbabwe”, “Brown vs Board of Educazyn” and more. 

This phenomenon is all the more curious given that Pillip Morris staunchly denies having any influencer partnerships. Regardless of whether or not this is true (tobacco companies have a history of false advertising), Zyn has taken on a life of its own. Even as the trend lives on past its novel appeal, ironic interpretations continue to perpetuate it.

When looking closer at the people creating and watching the content, a recurrent image of Zyn users sticks out: if cigarettes are the accessory of the cool, sexy, intellectual, Zyns are for capitalism’s powerful poster boys. “Zynfluencers” are overwhelmingly male, and the product has been spearheaded by a right-wing audience. They boast a nicotine-fueled routine geared towards maximum productivity, with eerie resemblance to Patrick Bateman’s scenes from the workout regimen to the high-strung demeanor. Zyns have a slightly tamer public image than cocaine, while purveying all the self-importance. On social media and in real life, people flaunt their Zyn addictions as a marker of social value and performance-oriented prerogatives.

The trend points towards an overall push to reinvigorate young people, primarily men. The 2010s and pandemic years were marked by efforts to promote the overall softening of life, through self-accepting wellness practices, idealist aspirations, and the taming of harsher masculine tendencies. But today people seem bored, and are shaking off pandemic induced lethargy pulling inspiration from the 1990s, with slightly revised notions of health and excellence. The rollback on men's issues is headed by the likes of Jordan Peterson and Andrew Tate, who push conservative notions of masculinity revolving around power and material contribution. It makes sense why performance enhancing substances like nicotine would gain traction amongst their audiences, especially when made convenient and easily accessible by Zyn. 

More interesting than the identity associated with Zyns is the way marketing has subverted persona to the product itself. Influencers aren’t so much using their image to promote the product, they are using the product’s notoriety to build their image. Zyn marks a new height of brand worship, becoming a charged symbol people can construct their “vibe” around. Zyn obsession reaches a peak in consumerism: an addictive product that’ll keep customers buying, but it’s also an indicator that people’s identity is more than ever shaped by what they buy.

As Zyn cements itself as a cultural staple, the broader implications for both consumer behavior and what society values become clear. It’s not just about the rise of a nicotine product—it’s about how in a digital age marketing hinges on an intricate interplay of information dissemination, entertainment value, and most impactfully identity construction. The wild success of Zyn shows how quickly a product, even one centered on addiction, can be reframed in a desirable light and adopted by the masses.