I’m what Pat Flynn calls a “superfan.” That means my devotion to Star Wars isn’t just emotional—it’s strategic, financial, and deeply woven into my identity. But even I have to step back sometimes and marvel at what this franchise has become. In the UK’s 2001 census, “Jediism” was recognised as a religion. There are now Jedi churches worldwide. France made lightsaber duelling an official sport. Michael Kaminski, argues that Star Wars has entered the realm of modern mythology—taught in university courses on myth and literature. That’s not fandom. That’s cultural phenomenon.
George Lucas didn’t just make a movie. He pioneered modern merchandising, retained full rights, and turned Star Wars into a multi-billion-dollar asset. When Disney bought Lucasfilm for $4.05 billion, the most valuable piece wasn’t the films—it was the merchandising rights. I still remember the 1977 Kenner empty box fiasco: they sold empty boxes with IOUs inside because demand was so insane. That shortage didn’t alienate fans—it created a frenzy.
Lucas could also be credited for inventing modern transmedia storytelling before we had a name for it. Books, comics, games, shows, each piece feeds the whole. My son watched Star Wars at three; at seventeen he’s seen everything multiple times. It’s our bond. That’s the power of a story that taps into archetypes older than cinema itself.
Star Wars isn’t just a story. It’s a self-reinforcing loop of meaning, consumerism, and identity. And for those of us who make costumes, it’s the reason we pick up a glue gun in the first place.
This post is adapted from my doctorate research on the intersection of religiosity and fandom.