Words by Lily Perkins (she/her)
If you just can’t wait for the show this Saturday, pass some time by reading our brand ambassador manager, Lily’s, musings on the current state of ‘coolness’ under capitalism. It might upend any notions you had of you’re own coolness, but if you decide to support CHAS by buying a ticket to our show, we’ll still consider you very cool indeed…
‘Coolness’ is culturally and historically situated, gendered, and like everything else - a construct. A construct that, nowadays, seems too loosely defined and surface-level to truly hold any merit. For the first time since its inception, the internet offers a platform for the average consumer to access every corner of the world at any given moment, consequently, leaving their insecurities and desires (not to mention, wallets) exposed to marketers on an unprecedented scale. With the rise of visual platforms such as Instagram and TikTok, whose algorithms have only advanced in targeting vulnerable and impressionable groups, we are provided with a largely imagined online community from which we derive identity and self-worth. The derived identity I am particularly concerned with is that of the ‘Cool Girl’, and the broader implications of how she is constructed. If you are in any way familiar with the ‘Cool Girl’ monologue from Gillian Flynn’s ‘Gone Girl’, then you are likely already aware of what I’m getting at here.
In recent years, a strange phenomenon has been observed across social media, where the drive for young women to be seen as ‘cool’ has almost eclipsed the emphasis on them appearing sexually desirable. Whilst prominent messaging surrounding how to flatter, conceal, or accentuate certain body parts remains a substantial portion of online fashion discourse (and is likely to persist as long as diet culture does), the recent marketisation of nuanced identities paves the way for an entirely new set of ideals to dominate. Peering beyond the surface, are the concepts of ‘coolness’ and ‘sexiness’ synonymous? Is desirability being refashioned into something more ambiguous to sell us yet another fantasy of becoming our most attractive selves? I would argue, yes. My reason being that, as the digital age advances, the lines between ‘coolness’ and ‘sexiness’ are increasingly blurred, with social media platforms fostering a culture where personal branding and expression take precedence over traditional ideals of beauty. Within this framework, ‘coolness’ is no longer tied solely to physical appearance, but to the image of authenticity and individuality that social media allows us to - sometimes falsely - project.
Many of the essentials championed by the ‘cool girl’ aesthetic, then, are less about morphing the body into an idealised female form, and more about communicating subtle, often ambiguous, statements about the wearer’s position within social hierarchies. The Maison Margiela ‘Tabi’, for example, is revered for its distinct, hoof-like design; Rick Owens’ sculptural, raw pieces, which incorporate unisex elements and intentionally avoid ‘flattering’ silhouettes; and the MSCHF ‘Big Red Boots’ which, despite their divisive, cartoonish appearance gained significant popularity in early 2023. The subtlety of these communications, however, is often lost or diluted in the race for mass consumption, as demonstrated by brands like Shein, which churn out 'dupes' of these high-fashion items for a fraction of the price. These dupes, while accessible, tend to flatten the original designs and reduce them to short-lived trends rather than true expressions of identity. The concept of dressing not to communicate one’s true self, but to signal a desired social position or sense of belonging to a particular cultural movement is not new, but I would argue that, now, the scale at which it operates across social media threatens the fashion industry on a new level. Though few social media marketing giants are stupid enough to spell it out for you explicitly, what they are ultimately doing is repackaging sex appeal into esotericism. Nicheness, mass-manufactured or otherwise, is the new currency of the online sphere.
‘Though few social media marketing giants are stupid enough to spell it out for you explicitly, what they are ultimately doing is repackaging sex appeal into esotericism. '
When observing trends in music and fashion, it is typically those who have communicated their position as nonconformists who ultimately cement themselves as ‘icons’ of their respective eras. These individuals are, arguably, the trailblazers of style, and are oftentimes also regarded as sex symbols (whether their sexiness lends itself to their coolness, or vice versa, I’ll leave up to you to decide). In years previous, a ‘trickle-down’ effect allowed time for trends to be passed on from these trailblazers to mainstream consumers at a manageable rate, with high-street manufacturers able to keep up with seasonal collections and consumers able to discern which styles resonated with them without risk of feeling overwhelmed. Today, however, social media’s emerging role as a diagnostic tool for our personalities, coupled with the relentless greed of the fast-fashion industry, has brought with it disastrous consequences for the consumer and the planet.
As mentioned previously, you are likely already aware of the correlation between perceived coolness and desirability if you have ever read or watched ‘Gone Girl’ by Gillian Flynn. Of the many points its brilliant monologue raises (in which, the protagonist, Amy, explains coolness in patriarchal terms), the most impactful to me was, “they’re not even pretending to be the woman they want to be, they’re pretending to be the woman a man wants them to be.” I love how this insight can be applied to fashion, where the 'coolness' that women aspire to project visually is now being reframed, not just through the lens of patriarchal desire, but through the lens of an imagined audience that attributes a heightened symbolic significance to objects (clothing). Just as Amy critiques the performance of adhering to the male gaze, our evolving definitions of 'coolness' and 'sexiness' give way to a new performance - one that blends identity with the calculated allure of social media.
I am by no means suggesting that every woman who dresses 'cool' is doing so to cater to the male gaze. Rather, I am highlighting a contradiction inherent in the way 'coolness' is marketed to us: packaged in a way that makes it attainable and offering consumers the opportunity to become desirable by virtue of coolness - creating a kind of conformity where the pursuit of individuality ends up looking the same for everyone who buys into it. It’s a paradox where the desire for self-expression is shaped by purely external, commercialised expectations. We are left trapped in a cycle where even the most subversive acts of self-expression are co-opted by capitalism, turning coolness into yet another purchasable, branded experience. Though ‘cool’ once signified a defiance against norms, it is now embedded within the very system it sought to challenge.