“SORRY FOR HAVING GREAT TITS AND CORRECT OPINIONS.” Not my words, readers (although, having said that …), but the words of a sweatshirt worn across the aforementioned acclaimed rack of Sydney Sweeney last year, shortly after some madly overheated controversy or other involving the Euphoria/Anyone But You star. I forget which controversy. Like Marvel movies, too many Sydney Sweeney controversies were made, and they all seemed to connect to each other in ways no one but the truly initiated could understand, so now only the saddos turn out for each and every one.
You might dimly be aware there’s another one going on at the moment, following Sydney’s participation in an American Eagle denim advert – a fashion retail event which obviously spiralled into some fatuous blue jeans/red state flame-war that has seen deranged TikTokers claim something about “eugenics”, the president trouser-rubbingly decide he likes Sydney Sweeney and American Eagle shares climb 23% in a week. Tell me the US will still be Earth’s dominant superpower in 30 years because I simply DON’T want to hear anything else. This is the behaviour of a culture with legs. (And a perfect ass, sorry if you can’t handle it.)
Anyway, aside from the white supremacist lunacy, there is frothing disquiet about the extent of Sweeney’s commercial brand partnerships, which include Miu Miu, Armani Beauty and a men’s grooming product firm for which she recently did a tongue-in-cheek ad to flog soap that contained trace elements of her bathwater. It all seems quite a lot of lucrative fun, which must, of course, be stamped on, particularly when it seems to be being had by a woman.
I had to laugh at the intervention in a New York Times article of the fashion analyst who said: “It seems like she’s not embarrassed or ashamed by promoting all of these different projects.” Oh my God. Imagine! In fact, that explicit mention of shame reminded me of something that I’d read last year in the Guardian, which described Sydney Sweeney as “problematic yet unashamed”. I do so enjoy these funny ways of talking – although perhaps one’s not supposed to?
I certainly genuinely loved the moment last year when Sweeney offered Vanity Fair a temperature check on the aspirational sisterhood of … hang on, let me get my reading glasses on … the Hollywood movie business. “This entire industry, all people say is ‘women empowering other women’,” Sydney explained. “None of it’s happening. All of it is fake and a front for all the other shit that they say behind everyone’s back.” Oof. Ladies and gentlemen, she went there. And how can you not love it? Chalk up another correct opinion and just accept that Sydney might not now get cast in a strong-female-led film based on a kids’ book, inspired by a theme-park ride or commissioned by a toy company.
As for Sydney’s online adversaries, what is it that cliched enemy characters say in the movies? “You and I, we are not so different after all.” Fact is, Sydney Sweeney is an actor. She wants attention. And – newsflash – so does some dreary TikToker making the nutty claim that American Eagle has done a white supremacist advert. They’re just a million miles less good at it than Sydney.
Unless, of course, my other theory is true: that there are masses of undercover Maga agents whose sole job is to pose as woke warriors and say things so provocatively dumb that they further degrade the already cratered global reputation of the American left. Or, to couch it in their preferred language: if the vice-president and Fox News seize delightedly and profitably upon the usefully idiotic things you say, then it’s just possible you are in your least desirable location – “the wrong side of history”. Or, to put it in even more basic terms: YOU ARE NOT HELPING.
Furthermore – and perhaps even more importantly – you are making the world less amusing. What you have failed to understand is something that us normies know instinctively. Namely, that this is how we want our celebrities, and most particularly our movie stars, to act. Most ordinary people want – and have always wanted – their movie stars to be gorgeous, fantastical, completely ridiculous figures in any number of ways, or else they’d be the most boring thing in the world: just like us.
We want our movie stars to be “unashamedly” hot. We want our movie stars to tell us that they literally have to sell their own bathwater to eat, then find out they have a property empire that includes but is not limited to a $3m house in Westwood, a $6m house in Bel Air and a $13.5m house on a private Floridian island with a 520-bottle wine cellar, an aquarium and an infinity pool with a swim-up bar.
Of course, not everyone’s a normie. It will have come to your attention that there are some people out there who want celebrities to drone on about causes, to post like it makes the blindest bit of difference and to hold fundraisers for Joe Biden till it’s miles too late. But these people are strategically bankrupt, don’t really have a cultural hinterland and should largely be avoided at parties.
Listen, five years ago, a commercially instinctive Sydney Sweeney would have done a feminist stunt or a tweet about mental health. Plenty of stars did, and made plenty from them. But nothing’s static and vibes change, so stars are doing different starry things now. Or to put it another way: they’re all in the infinity pool, but some of them are headed for the swim-up bar. That’s showbiz – try not to choke on it.
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Marina Hyde is a Guardian columnist
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