Kinderwhore? No, Just a Girl!

Where did Kinderwhore "succeed"? Where did Coquette "fail"?

In September, designer Sandy Liang’s show notes added fodder to the fire of discourse that always seems to consume online spaces during New York Fashion Week. I’m not here to discuss if the notes were well-written or dissect the collection itself. What concerns me is the disdain that some seem to reserve for those who (god forbid) want to explore the deeper meaning of things, particularly in fashion. Part of the reaction to these show notes, and to the Sandy Liang brand of pink, bow-laden girlhood as a whole, has been colored by the rise of anti-intellectualism in our current cultural landscape. “Let people enjoy things” has been a term thrown around to dismiss the notion of engaging with our entertainment and means of self-expression through a critical lens. 

The Coquette aesthetic, which quickly snatched up the iconic ribbons of Sandy Liang as a staple, seems to be indicative of a rise in this mentality. I thought back to the Kinderwhore resurgence of the mid to late 2010s, as it shares many visual cues with Coquette-core. While Kinderwhore was absolutely commodified and taken out of context, its message still felt palpable and present. Its reliance on hyperbole and contrast made it possible to dissect yet embrace feminine stereotypes whilst remaining an interesting way of styling oneself. 

For those who studied undergrad at “Tumblr university”, the term kinderwhore may not be foreign. Best known as a style that was a small part of the late 80s to mid-90's alt-rock scene, Kinderwhore isn’t as concrete of a movement as something like Riot Girl…calling it a movement seems a bit much (it’s about as much of a stance as some white women are willing to take). The style is most notable in its juxtaposition of the “adult” and the “innocent”. Think ripped, dirty tights and babydoll dresses paired with bold red lipstick and smudged eye makeup. Maybe even pull the look together with a heavy black boot or swap the babydoll for a lace-embellished slip dress or chemise. Perhaps a Peter Pan collar for a more structured look. There aren’t any rules, just guidelines. Like the most organic form of the grunge movement, this was an easy look to accomplish for those who frequented thrift stores (it also “died” around the same time as the infamous Marc Jacobs’ Perry Ellis grunge collection, seeing an internet resurgence nearly 20 years later). Despite its abrasiveness, Kinderwhore wasn’t something that women shouted from the rooftops claiming to be a part of—more so a title invented by the media to make sense of what they were looking at.

Patron Saint of Kinderwhore, Courtney Love (via this article)

Hole’s Courtney Love and Babes in Toyland’s Kat Bjelland are seen as icons of the aesthetic. The pair briefly lived together and shared clothing—though the reductive argument regarding who stole what style from who doesn’t interest me. KatieJane Garside, most notably of Daisy Chainsaw fame, remains a lesser-known Kinderwhore muse and served as an inspiration to the pair. Her fairy-like vocal and aesthetic stylings contrasted the dark themes and sounds within her band’s music and her chaotic stage presence. Courtney and Kat’s relationship also sheds light on the imperfect nature of trying to formulate or identify a universally recognized, singular vision of girlhood. The idea of acceptability within appearance is also key to the style. Historically, babydoll dresses, a staple in the world of Kinderwhore, were a symbol of female liberation—the loose silhouette rose in popularity within the Mod subculture of the 1960s, not unlike the ascent of the iconic 1920s “La Garçonne” shape. Ripped tights or a bold red lip with messy hair play with the idea of what constitutes as “acceptable” feminine presentation. 

The style also directly confronted male dominance within the music scene, embracing a more raw form of femininity not fit for patriarchal consumption. A fantastically succinct description of the aesthetic comes from Morna Laing’s essay dissecting Meadham Kirchhoff’s SS 2012 show: “Kinderwhore can thus be understood as an instance of same-sex drag: exaggerating the contradictory demands of ideal femininity; betraying its constructed-ness; subverting it from within.” Kinderwhore isn’t quite a feminist movement and is not purely aesthetic, operating within the space of a secret, third thing. But, it's concrete enough to be aware of what it is…whatever that may be.

The coquette aesthetic has a bit more of a nebulous backstory. The idea of “coquette” as it has come to be understood today, was very much birthed via the internet. Characterized by lace and bows, defenders of the style insist that it's a reclamation of femininity—women who subscribe to Coquette-core are “allowed” to be delicate as if the idea of “the divine feminine” is under attack. The aesthetic seems to have stemmed from desire rather than ideology. A desire to be seen as traditionally feminine. A desire for community. A desire to assimilate yet be seen as mysterious and esoteric. Romanticization is key to upholding the Coquette standard. 

Playlists are filled with the likes of Lana del Rey and…well that’s sort of it. Lana is the only true “face” of the movement, despite not embodying the visual cues we’ve come to associate with the style in her day-to-day life. Within these spaces, her lyrics are heavily glorified, as if to be taken as Bible. Her music is never repurposed to make any points or statements that back up “the point” of the movement. Is there even a point to any of it? There’s an emphasis on grocery hauls of pomegranates, baguettes, brie, and olive oil. “Coquette” book displays will include the likes of Ottessa Moshfegh (do not let the cute lamb on the cover of Lapvona fool you) and Sylvia Plath. The Virgin Suicides, both the movie and its literary counterpart, are a fan favorite. Pink rosettes and ribbons adorning ivory lace slip dresses are preferred, but a Brandy Melville top will do on a more casual day. In general, there’s an air of French Rococo opulence. Some elements of Coquette-core are similar in function to the idea of “Instagram Museums”—cafes, bows, books, and bread make for a great photo op. 

Despite the oversaturation that the internet seems to impose upon subcultures, at its heart, Coquette-core is a whole lot of nothing wrapped in a pretty bow. I was surprised there was even a Wikipedia page for it. While not as expansive as Kinderwhore’s, I found an interesting quote that brought me closer to the root of my issue with the aesthetic: “Defenders of the aesthetic affirm that the use of bun [sic], laces and pink-colored clothing should not assume a revictimization for women and these aesthetics are not responsible for misogynistic aggressions.” (The wording of this quote may be a bit skewed as this seems to be based on an article that was initially written in Spanish). And, yeah, it’s not the fault of the girls and women who identify with the aesthetic but when you have nothing subversive to say it doesn’t look great. The Coquette mindset, or lack thereof given the carefree attitude towards lobotomies, bleeds into the cultural conversation and is indicative of larger issues within our current society. Coquette is essentially watered-down choice feminism. It’s an aesthetic first and any reasoning or justification was born as an afterthought. 

It can’t be ignored that the subculture can become a pipeline to much more serious things. The Venn diagram of Red Scare enjoyers and Coquette-core subscribers is likely close to a circle. A lot of ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Coquette Aesthetic ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ social media accounts run in dangerously close circles with eating disorder communities. The reductive, and in our current political climate dangerous, “Just a girl” rhetoric is not exclusive to the Coquette community but remains extremely prevalent within it. There seems to be an obsession with reveling in youth as well. While Courtney Love is absolutely not someone to look to as a role model, at least she owned her shit. At least Kinderwhore had an interesting mix of reclamation, declaration, and deviation from femininity. Coquette reads as “feminine guilt.” Their lord and savior Lana del Rey has a serious victim complex (and this is coming from a fan of over 12 years). Her infamous “Question for the Culture” letter has hideous undertones of misogynoir and I’m not sure if the 22-year-old “teenage girls” have the awareness to see that. Nor do they have the awareness to see how dangerously close they are to the thin line between harmless, girlish fun and a possible right-wing pipeline. The simplest comparison I have to offer between the two subcultures is this: If Kinderwhore and Coquette were both personified and read Lolita, Kinderwhore would understand the “point” of the novel while Coquette would use it almost like an instruction manual or an aspiration.

Coquette-core often leans into the materialistic (Pinterest)

I am not the first nor the last person to analyze the intimate connection between fashion and politics. After all, fashion is cut from the cloth of the cultural fabric. I absolutely would love to let people enjoy things, but the socio-political state of the world doesn’t currently allow for that. My intentions aren't to villainize those who identify with Coquette-core (I admittedly have fallen victim to many aspects of the aesthetic and you’ll have to pry Lana del Rey’s music out of my cold, dead hands despite all her out-of-touch bullshit), but to offer examples as to what makes a subculture both interesting and thought-provoking. Contrary to popular belief, interacting with fashion more insightfully adds to the allure. If anything, what the current culture is lacking is breadth of imagination.