Dunkin's star-studded 2024 Super Bowl campaign imagined Ben Affleck, Matt Damon and Tom Brady as a boy band, clad in matching orange and pink Dunkin'-branded tracksuits.
The two piece "DunKings" sold out in minutes. A Dunkin’ spokesperson told Boston.com it was the “fastest collection to sell out in Dunkin’ history.” Two months later, some fans are waiting for their own "DunKings" tracksuits to arrive, and publicly complaining.
Emblazoned head-to-toe with the Dunkin' logo, the tracksuit is a sight to behold — and I would know, because I actually have one.
That's right: I am among the lucky few who has a coveted DunKings tracksuit, thanks to a press set from Dunkin'.
Where would a person wear such a thing? How would they accessorize it? Why are so many people waiting in anticipation for it? These are important questions — and as a Dunkin' connoisseur, I felt it was my duty to find out.
And so, I decided to wear the DunKings track suit around New York for a day.
This was hardly my first foray in pop culture-inspired fashion. At my 11th birthday party, I ironed pictures from my Disney Channel favorites (looking at you, "Hannah Montana" and "The Suite Life of Zack and Cody") on a shirt, burgeoning pop culture fiend that I was.
As an adult, this type of activity was a past time for my friend group. We turned the iconic photo of Timothée Chalamet, Florence Pugh, Meryl Streep and Greta Gerwig eating fries in their "Little Women" costumes into a T-shirt, and had Zoom calls during the pandemic to design new ones (really).
Wearing the full DunKings suit felt like it was the natural next step, but also a total level up.
I had a much to consider. What does one add to an outfit that is already one big statement piece? Should I lean in to the '80s flair with scrunchie or chunky jewelry? In the end, I decided that my intention wasn't to be in costume. It was to be on assignment. Extras weren't necessary.
The moment I stepped out of my apartment, I noticed the effect the DunKings suit had on people — not even strangers, but friends.
"Do I have to be seen with you?" my friend immediately said as she showed up at my building door. "You know I'm the worst person for this." She avoids attention, the exact kind my tracksuit was designed to attract.
She was the first person to comment on the suit, but not the last. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the DunKings suit was an invitation for conversation from strangers.
One thing I found out early on, as I walked around my Brooklyn neighborhood, is that when you are wearing a DunKings tracksuit, everyone will ask if you if you want Starbucks.
Over and over, I heard, "Wouldn't it be funny if you went to Starbucks? You should take a picture holding Starbucks!" I heard it enough times to actually take their advice and ... go to Starbucks.
Walking into a Starbucks proved to be surprisingly calm. I did not immediately burst into flames, nor did I get kicked out — but I did hide in a corner.
After I scampered out, I decided to walk across the street to where I belonged: Dunkin'. Unfortunately, there was no fanfare when I walked in. Was I expecting a standing ovation? No. But I admit it would have been nice. I imagine this is what it feels like when a celebrity would actually like to be recognized, but isn't.
Despite being a walking billboard that day, I still had my 9 to 5 to attend to. The problem? I was running late.
Here's the truth: You can wear a wild outfit to work. You can show up late to work. But you can not show up late to work while wearing a wild outfit. And so, I took off the pants and just wore the quarter zip to the office.
Still, that alone got attention, from compliments, questions and requests for photos. Someone even tried to buy it off my back (but I couldn't be persuaded).
After work, I threw the full suit back on, and headed to my extracurricular activity: "Dune 2." Showing up to the theater during the trailers, I glided up the stairs with the power and elegance of Nicole Kidman reading an AMC ad.
My "Dune 2" buddy was gobsmacked by my outfit choice.
"As you came up the stairs, and your body started to appear into frame, I thought, 'She couldn't possibly be wearing the matching pants, but you were," he said.
When, mid-movie, I accidentally knocked things off of my tray, my friend sunk into his seat. "Your outfit is already loud enough!" he said.
Settling back into the chair, my attention went from the movie to the pop culture moment I was creating: Watching "Dune" in a DunKings suit. I would give almost anything to travel back in time, and read that sentence to my younger self. What would any of those words have meant in 2008?
In my day as a walking meme, it became apparent that those who got it, got it, and those who didn’t ... didn’t care. The DunKings tracksuit elicited a smile from a subway passerby, or a knowing look from a someone on the street.
I spent hours feeling like an incomplete inside joke, waiting for someone else to understand it and make the moment funny. Otherwise, I was just another New Yorker in a strange outfit (and there are lots of those).
As I returned to my apartment after my eventful day, I realized something pivotal. The world is simply too broad of an audience for an inside joke — they're for friends.
There’s a reason Ben Affleck asked his longtime buddy Matt Damon to join him in the tracksuits. Which is why next time, I'm making one of my friends wear one with me.
Odeya Pinkus
Odeya is an Associate Producer at The Kelly Clarkson Show, as well as contributing writer forTODAY.com. When she isn't producing or writing, she might be performing in a comedy show, hanging out with her cat named Pepperoni, or frantically trying to catch up on 10 seasons of Vanderpump Rules. Odeya graduated from Binghamton University with a Bachelor's degree in English Rhetoric. She also has a Master's degree in Broadcast & Digital Journalism from the Newhouse School of Communications at Syracuse University. She does not have a PhD, but she did spend a lot of time in improv classes.
