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Every February, without fail, the world turns into a sea of pink and red. Storefronts are decked out with heart-shaped decorations, florists see an astronomical surge in sales, and social media is flooded with posts about extravagant date nights. Brands, ever attuned to seasonal sentiment, jump at the opportunity to capitalise on the love economy. Chocolates, jewellery, perfumes, and experiences are pushed with renewed vigor, all wrapped in carefully curated advertising narratives.
But if you pay close attention, you'll notice a striking pattern in these campaigns—one that has barely changed over the years. A standard Valentine’s Day ad often follows a familiar script: the man meticulously plans a grand romantic gesture, often surprising his female partner with an expensive gift. She, in turn, is portrayed as the grateful recipient, delighted by the display of affection. The underlying message? Men are the providers, and women are the ones being wooed.
In India, where love has historically had to fight for its space against cultural conservatism, Valentine's Day has evolved into a battleground between modern romance and traditional gender expectations. While young couples enthusiastically embrace the occasion, older generations still view it with skepticism, and certain groups periodically stage protests—often using coercion and muscle—against its "Western influence." Despite these social complexities, the way brands approach Valentine’s Day remains strikingly conventional—with the odd exceptions of a few.
Even as advertising has evolved to challenge stereotypes in other areas—from workplace gender roles to beauty standards—the portrayal of romance in Valentine’s Day campaigns remains largely stagnant. The industry has successfully shifted narratives around body positivity, LGBTQ+ representation, and mental health. Yet, when it comes to love, brands seem hesitant to deviate from the well-worn path of heteronormative, gendered storytelling.
But why? Is it a strategic decision based on consumer insights? A reflection of genuine social dynamics? Or just a reluctance to disrupt a formula that has historically worked?
The man, the myth, the wallet: The ‘provider’ trope
For decades, advertising has portrayed men as the orchestrators of romance. The typical Valentine’s Day commercial follows a tried-and-tested format: a man, often looking slightly nervous, presents an extravagant gift—a shimmering necklace, a bouquet, a lavish dinner—to an overjoyed woman. Cue soft-focus cinematography and a romantic soundtrack.
Uddhav Parab, Senior Creative Director, Interactive Avenues, observes that while brands have made strides in breaking gender stereotypes elsewhere, the Valentine's Day playbook remains largely untouched. “Movies, web series, even music videos haven’t shown many instances where a man gets rewarded on Valentine’s Day. So, for brands, depicting this would feel out of sync with reality—or at least with the version of reality pop culture has reinforced.”
There’s also the matter of cold, hard cash. The gender wage gap still persists in many parts of the world, including India, making it more socially ingrained for men to be the primary spenders in relationships. As Parab points out, premium brands like Tanishq—catering to a more affluent demographic—have a better chance of shifting these narratives. For mass-market brands, though, it's trickier terrain.
But tradition, as we know, is just peer pressure from dead people. And in a world where modern relationships are evolving—where gender roles are more fluid, and equality is more than a buzzword—it begs the question: why are brands dragging their feet in telling a different kind of love story?
The few who dare to be different
To say that no brand has challenged the conventional Valentine’s narrative would be unfair. There have been whispers of change—just not loud enough to become mainstream.
Take Metro Shoes’ recent campaign, which Parab describes as a “love letter to the modern feminist man.” It dared to position a man as emotionally expressive, moving beyond the usual “strong, silent” archetype. Then there’s MyMuse’s cheeky #CancelCupid campaign, which celebrated self-love over performative romance. Blinkit’s Single Mode also took a refreshing approach, targeting those who might prefer to celebrate themselves rather than a partner.
Aditi Ganvir, Associate Creative Director - Copy at Makani Creatives, highlights another example: a Ferns N Petals ad featuring The Great Khali. The premise? Khali, usually cast as the intimidating giant, is visibly disappointed when his birthday is forgotten—only to light up when he finally receives a surprise gift. It’s a simple but powerful subversion: men, too, want to feel special.
So why aren’t these narratives more widespread? Perhaps because they remain exceptions, not expectations. The problem isn’t that brands can’t flip the script—it’s that they don’t have to. Tradition still sells. Clichés are profitable. And while edgier campaigns might win awards and social media buzz, they don’t necessarily guarantee conversions in the way a tried-and-tested formula does.
But as Adyasha Roy Tomar, Creative Director, McCann Worldgroup points out, there’s an entire untapped market waiting to be explored. “Valentine’s Day is still a ‘girl-coded’ occasion. It’s almost deemed uncool for a man to be excited about it.” This, she argues, is a golden opportunity for brands—why not market the day in a way that makes men feel included, rather than merely obligated?
Beyond romance: Expanding the Valentine’s Day market
If we zoom out of the heteronormative, pink-and-red lovefest, we find that many global markets have already embraced alternative ways to celebrate Valentine’s Day. Friendship, self-love, familial bonds—these have all become part of the marketing lexicon in countries like Japan, South Korea, and the U.S.
As Ganvir notes, there’s also an uncharted territory in men’s gifting. “A British survey by Interflora found that 48% of men had never received flowers in their life. Just a simple candid video of men receiving flowers from their partners, friends, or children would melt hearts—if not break the internet.”
Roy Tomar suggests pushing the concept of “gifting” beyond material things. “Imagine giving understanding, space, opportunities—all as gifts. These are abstract concepts, sure, but they’d resonate deeply with Gen Z and millennials.” It’s a shift that moves the occasion away from just transactional love, making it more meaningful.
The risk and reward of reinvention
For brands, challenging tradition is always a calculated risk. Deviate too much, and you might alienate your core audience. Play it too safe, and you risk being forgettable.
But, as Parab wisely puts it, the simplest way to mitigate risk is to keep it wholesome. “If your final asset—be it a creator-led reel, a DVC, or a billboard—makes people smile and share it, you’re safe.” The danger lies in trying to be too clever or edgy just for the sake of it. There’s a fine line between progressive and preachy, and audiences can sense when a brand is talking down to them rather than engaging in an authentic conversation.
That said, there’s an inherent irony in being afraid of breaking tradition when tradition itself is a product of reinvention. Valentine’s Day wasn’t always about red roses and overpriced dinners. It was once a somber day of martyrdom before the Romans turned it into a matchmaking festival, and Hallmark turned it into a billion-dollar business. Change has always been the only constant.
And if love itself can evolve—why shouldn’t the way we market it?
Will brands swipe right on change?
Valentine’s Day marketing remains stuck in a comfortable loop, but cracks are beginning to show. While most brands still cling to gendered clichés, there are those who dare to tell new stories—ones that go beyond the predictable man-as-provider, woman-as-receiver trope.
The question isn’t whether consumers are ready for change; it’s whether brands are. Tradition may feel safe, but innovation is what builds legacies. And as Gen Z and millennials continue to demand more inclusivity, authenticity, and nuance in advertising, the brands that fail to adapt might just find themselves ghosted.
After all, love is supposed to be about surprises. Maybe it’s time for advertisers to take their own advice—and give audiences one worth remembering.