Bad Bunny at the Super Bowl: A Style Moment With Roots and Rhythm

You probably didn’t expect us to be talking about sweaty men running around on a field on a fashion blog. And honestly? Neither did we. The only reason we tuned into the Super Bowl was for the halftime show, let’s be real.

Some people call it the Super Bowl. We were watching the Benito Bowl.

But jokes aside, what happened on that field wasn’t just entertainment. It wasn’t just choreography and pyrotechnics. It was culture. It was fashion. It was history. It was the Caribbean, front and centre, on one of the biggest stages in the world.

And that’s what we love to see, so of course we’re going to talk about it!

If you watched the Super Bowl halftime show this year and thought, “That felt like home?” Well, you definitely weren’t imagining it. Bad Bunny gave us a moment that was rich with cultural nods, Caribbean spirit, and one of the most interesting and intentional outfit choices we’ve seen on a stage that’s usually all about flash and spectacle.

High Street, Higher Message

Let’s talk about the outfit first, because even before he struck a chord, Bad Bunny was already making a statement.

He didn’t go with the avant-garde couture you might expect at a moment like this. Bad Bunny stepped onto that stage in a custom cream-coloured outfit from Zara, yes, Zara, styled by his longtime fashion collaborators Storm Pablo and Marvin Douglas Linares. 

That choice felt intentional too. Instead of couture labels or runway looks, he opted for something accessible and familiar, a brand most people around the world walk past every day. It just goes to show that fashion doesn’t have to be exclusive to be meaningful.

His outfit was built around a piece reminiscent of classic menswear but reimagined through his lens; a football jersey.

On the back, “OCASIO” is Bad Bunny’s actual last name; Benito Antonio Martínez Ocasio. And the number 64? It marked the birth year (1964) of his late uncle, Cutito, who taught Bad Bunny much of what he knows about the NFL, and shared with him a love for the San Francisco 49ers. Some fans even connected 1964 to broader Puerto Rican history, moments of migration and identity. 

Jerseys are symbols of teams and tribes, of unity and belonging. When Bad Bunny performed in that number, it was almost like a declaration: I’m here. I belong. And so does our culture.

The look was deliberate head-to-toe: a collared shirt and tie, matching chinos, moto-style gloves, paired with his signature Adidas BadBo 1.0 sneakers, a silhouette he helped design,  in the same tonal palette.

Whether it’s a family homage or a cultural nod, wearing your own name and number on a Super Bowl stage turned what could’ve been a generic sports reference into something deeply personal. 

Partway through the performance, he shifted the silhouette again by adding a cream double-breasted blazer, keeping the tone consistent but letting the energy of the music and set change. He was at a wedding afterall! His accessories included a Audemars Piguet Royal Oak watch with a malachite dial, a subtle but luxurious detail nestled into an otherwise down-to-earth outfit. 

The coat, the corset, the jersey, the layers… They were a tapestry of references: tailored tradition, athletic community, everyday accessibility, and individual flair, allowing both storytelling and spectacle.

The cream-toned palette echoed the wider staging of the show; sand, earth, community, neutrality that let movement and colour from dancers and set pieces shine. It echoed the traditional white often worn by working-class communities in Puerto Rico and the Caribbean at celebrations and gatherings, grounding this performance in culture before it ever hit a beat.

So yes, a Zara look and sneakers at the biggest stage in American entertainment. But that’s exactly why it worked. In that moment, at one of the single most watched sporting events in the world, he married the pageantry of sport with the pageantry of fashion in a way that felt symbolic. It was a reminder that our stories (and our styles) don’t exist in separate boxes: sport, music, culture, identity, they overlap, they influence each other, and they belong everywhere we occupy space.

From the Islands to the Arena

And as the performance unfolded, it echoed that same overwhelming sense of rootedness and celebration.

From the opening moments, the set design and choreography felt less like a stadium show and more like stepping into a completely different moment, a memory even. It shifted through concepts that felt familiar to many of us who grew up around Caribbean music and movement that doesn’t sit still. 

Sugar cane fields stretched across the stage, a loaded symbol of labour, community, and survival and Caribbean history, to scenes that felt like neighbourhood block parties; the piragua stand, nail salon, dominoes tables, to the bomba and plena instruments filling the stage with the flags! To bring that imagery into a Super Bowl halftime show is to remind the world where, like Benito, so much of our story began.

It felt alive. It spoke to a communal sense of joy. The kind of energy you feel at a street fête, a backyard jam, a Sunday gathering that turns into something special. 

By the end of the performance, Caribbean flags flooded the field, waving proudly, Jamaica’s, included, along with others across the Americas. Another declaration of presence, of lineage, lineage carried into a moment that millions were watching; “our voices matter here, in every language, every spectrum, every rhythm.”

Bad Bunny has always had a way of holding dualities: he’s playful and serious, fun and reflective. His main message that night had the same sentiment. And that message came through loud and clear when he said, “The only thing more powerful than hate is love.” Let’s sit with that for a second. Sure, it’s a beautifully catchy line, but it’s also extremely fitting with everything happening in the Americas right now. Love as a language. Love as resistance. Love as power. Love as community.

For us, in the Caribbean, in Jamaica, and beyond, that line hits hard because we know the work of holding love in the centre is active. It always has to be. It’s choosing joy in the middle of pain. It’s showing up for each other when systems fail. It’s music. It’s movement. It’s colour. It’s expression. The way we choose to bring pieces of ourselves into the public space, in our culture and in our clothing. 

Unapologetically, Benito

When you step back and look at the whole thing, the Zara jersey, the name and number, the sneakers, the sugar cane fields, the casita, the instruments, the grammy speech, the flags waving proudly, it becomes clearer and clearer that this was more than just a ‘halftime show’. 

And honestly? None of it was surprising.

Bad Bunny has never dressed to impress a room, he dresses to feel like himself. That’s always been the difference. He doesn’t inflate his identity because the stage is bigger. He shows up as Benito. As he shared in his December 2025 Vogue cover story, “I don’t like it when I don’t feel like I’ve dressed myself.” And you could feel that truth threaded through every detail of this performance. 

Fashion was part of the language; movement was part of the language; heritage was part of the language. It was a statement about identity, about where we come from and the world we want to build. 

On the biggest stage in American sports, he amplified his America. It wasn’t just about the outfit or the occasion, it was the love woven through it all; one that will linger long after the lights go out. Love loud enough to fill a stadium… and beyond. And that kind of love will always be powerful.