The Reclamation of the Muse

“I had absolutely no interest in being somebody else's muse. I am not a muse. I am the somebody. End of fucking story.” - Taylor Jenkins Reid, Daisy Jones and the Six

The function of a person's "image" in cultivating their widely-recognized brand has been touched upon extensively; whether this be a musician's signature style or a fashion house's distinguishable aesthetic. Often forgotten, though, are the muses who bring these artistic visions to life, the originators of a certain style and responsible for its surge in popularity. Today, the closest equivalent to a muse is regarded as an "it-girl," typically an already-famous figure who is revered for her personal style and distinctive aura. The public looks towards her as a consistent source of inspiration, viewed as a two-dimensional figure from which people can pick and choose which elements of her's they wish to emulate. This 2-D framing of the muse, while customary in the fashion industry through their treatment of models as display, seeps into the music industry as well. Both are male-dominated fields guilty of positioning women as objects of desire, glossing over the contributions women have made and championing male figures instead.

The muse functions as a source of creativity in music and fashion, respectively — yet she is often discredited for her role in elevating an artist's persona and seen as secondary. I would argue that she is the key element of any art form's inception. In fashion, the clothing produced would be nothing without the muse bringing them to life and marketing the trends to follow. In music, the muse serves as the catalyst for the artist's vision, immortalized in the songs. The muse, then, in a broad sense, is the reason why great art exists, and it is a true shame that she is so often cast aside in favor of her male counterparts.

Lately, I have seen a reclamation of the muse being championed online, predominantly from young, Gen Z women. Last month, I wrote about nostalgia and Gen Z's current fixation with the early 2010s' "soft grunge" aesthetic; this is one of the many fashion and music trends that have cycled back into the mainstream in recent years. With the growing popularity of social media platforms like TikTok, vision and mood boards have begun to take on lives of their own, resulting in subsets of people on social media taking visuals and turning them into their own personalities — think, a Pinterest board come to life. The muse, for Gen Z, is no longer a two-dimensional figure; instead, she is a lifestyle for the younger generation to aspire towards, iconized for her influence and put on a pedestal.

Examples of mood boards that have surged in popularity within Gen Z's consciousness, depicting various aesthetics & lifestyles - creators unknown.

We can look at a figure like Chloë Sevigny, an actress, writer, and fashion model & designer, who has come into popularity once again for her style efforts upon her second "discovery" by Gen Z. Rising to fame with her appearance in rock band Sonic Youth's music video for "Sugar Kane," Sevigny became an instant cultural icon. The video takes place in the showroom of fashion company Perry Ellis, which in 1992 was under the direction of Marc Jacobs, who was about to debut his infamous grunge collection that introduced the alternative style to the mainstream — and also got Jacobs fired from his role. This legendary merging of music and fashion shows the function of the muse as a symbol of culture, someone who is able to epitomize a lifestyle in a way that is genuine and aspirational.

Sevigny has gone on to become a fashion icon in her own right, even appearing in a Marc Jacobs campaign just a few days ago (a true full-circle moment). Sevigny became a muse through her adoption of the "cool girl," countercultural attitude and style without even trying, being just one of the many women to become a face of her generation. With Gen Z's on-going grunge revival, it is only fitting that Sevigny's influence is being recognized once again.

Sonic Youth's "Sugar Kane" video, featuring Chloë Sevigny and Marc Jacobs.

Sevigny is one of many "it-girls" who have posed as cultural icons throughout the decades, as popular culture filtered through trend cycles and social media assumed a larger role in the creation of "influencers" (a potential equal to the muse, though often without ingenuity, to a certain extent). The early 2000s saw the rise of models as "it-girls," women who seemingly lived for fashion and yet possessed personalities that set them apart from the rest.

I would be remiss to not mention one of my personal favorite muses of the early-mid 2000s, Alexa Chung; gaining her start as a model, Chung has since immersed herself into high fashion, launching an eponymous clothing label and being heralded as one of the most noteworthy style icons of her era. Chung is of particular interest because of her existence within both worlds of fashion and music; much of her style inspiration stems from musicians she admires, and in turn, she has served as a muse for a number of musicians, including Arctic Monkeys frontman Alex Turner.

Alexa Chung moodboard — credits to April Edgar

While Chung was able to coexist between the realms of fashion and music, creating a brand for herself and becoming an icon in both respects, the music industry has not always been kind to muses — especially in rock culture. Within the music industry, there is far more contention when it comes to the role of the muse—notably, for the positioning of the "groupie" in public discourse. The term "groupie" has garnered a rather negative connotation since its inception in the 1960s, capitalizing on the misogyny that runs rampant in society, as a collective, to portray muses as women with sole sexual agendas. "Groupie" has become derogatory to many, an unfortunate evolution for a term that was once endearing and celebrated. I wrote about the history of the groupie in rock culture for a thesis, and the term's lineage still fascinates me — in particular, the way these women were so quickly dismissed despite their undeniable roles in rock music history.

One of the most famous groupies, Pamela Des Barres, has not only sought to reclaim the term "groupie" as a badge of honor, but also proudly owns her role in iconizing the bohemian, rock 'n' roll imagery that is so revered today. She famously swapped clothes with musicians, tailoring shirts for the likes of Mick Jagger and Jimmy Page and introducing bands to the art of shopping vintage. Des Barres, along with other notable muses such as Bebe Buell and Anita Pallenberg, were responsible for originating a lot of the stylistic iconography that was brought to the forefront by male musicians — yet are often brushed off as groupies (in a derogatory sense) by the public and unfortunately forgotten in both music and fashion history.

Bebe Buell — Pamela Des Barres — Anita Pallenberg

Thankfully, in a similar way to that of aforementioned fashion icons Sevigny and Chung, groupie icons are being embraced by Gen Z for their free-spirited ideology and indisputable marks left on rock 'n' roll. Gen Z's open-mindedness towards both sexuality and countercultural aesthetics has resulted in a cultural renaissance that is more accepting and nonconforming, without a care for labels like "groupie" or even "muse" and focused more on an evolution of culture.

The roles of "it-girl," "muse," and even "groupie" have always, and will continue to, persist in popular culture, displaying the interchangeable natures of music and fashion in serving as vessels for artistic visions. There is potential movement from women posed as two-dimensional figures from which to draw inspiration, to women as modern icons worthy of reverence, which is promising in furthering a feminist agenda and in the progression of both the music and fashion industries in becoming more inclusive.

To close, here's an interview with Alexa Chung and Pamela Des Barres — the latter of whom was the inspiration behind one of Chung's clothing collections: