On June 7th, 2024, a star was born. A garishly chartreuse, obnoxious star crawled out of club pop princess and general icon Charli XCX’s brain and into the hearts, bodies, and souls of any listener who willingly (or unwillingly) lent an ear. It was a summer of earworms, between Sabrina Carpenter’s delectable “Espresso” and Billie Eilish’s bouncy “Birds of a Feather,” though it seems that the level of omnipresence that Charli’s Brat attained seemed more or less exclusive to itself. Could it be that its neon face was just too gaudy to ignore? Or the deliciously referential lyricism of “360?” Was it just that the phrase “Brat Summer” rolled off the tongue a bit easier than its counterparts? Yes, but also no.
The Allure of “Brat Summer”
The fact of the matter is, we all yearn to be a part of something; from the time we choose who to play kickball with on the playground to attaching ourselves, our identities, to any kind of hobby, interest, whichever aesthetic we may be partial to. Some are more accessible than others, but for a moment, it seemed as though Brat could belong to anyone; hell, allegedly even politicians could have a “Brat Summer” (heavy emphasis on allegedly).
Brat sold a dream. An idea. A sun-drenched, sweat-soaked, refreshingly raunchy dream that seemed to require only a white tank top (and some… other white substances, though those were arguably optional) and a party-until-dawn attitude, plus some Y2K shades couldn’t hurt. It encouraged its listeners to indulge in hedonism beyond their wildest dreams, but still indulged in moments of earnestness on tracks like “I Think About It All the Time” where Charli becomes existential about having a child, or the tenuousness of the frenemy status. Brat, the everyman, Brat, the harbinger of true copacetic coexistence.
Enter Clairo: A Softer Summer
And then along came Clairo. Released a mere month or so after Charli’s magnum opus, the singer-songerwriter bewitched audiences with a softer, more melancholic soft rock record that paid homage to the giants of the 1970s, Charm. Of course, in actuality, there’s no reason Clairo’s soft lilt and Charli’s brazen delivery couldn’t get along. But certain listeners became somewhat divisive, even if in a purely facetious manner. The deliberation: Were you having a “Brat Summer” or a “Charm Summer?” And what did that say about you?
Charm was allegedly for the “thought daughters” of the echosphere, a.k.a listeners perhaps more prone to feelings of melancholy and yearning. Sure, you might assume these are temporary ways of being, and you’d be correct. But nowadays, some might call it a lifestyle, hence the name “thought daughter.” What is a “thought daughter,” you might wonder? Dear reader, I’d be delighted to enlighten you.
The term hails from a 2021 joke “gay son or thot daughter,” though readers of Joan Didion and listeners of indie-folk soon reimagined the latter phrase to belong to its homonym. Are you, too, obsessed with the 2005 adaptation of Pride & Prejudice, specifically that scene where Mr. Darcy flexes his hand? You just might be a “thought daughter.”
You Are What You Eat… And Watch, and Read
Again, given that we’re all, y’know, multifaceted human beings with the capacity for more than one type of interest, it was, of course, entirely possible to have a Brat and Charm summer all in one. But which could further serve your identity, or at least your own idea of who you are? Of how you wish for others to perceive you? Fun, cool, hot party girl, or mysterious, oh-so-intuitive, wistful intellectual? Exposed abdomens or chunky sweaters? It’s no puzzle which record falls into which adopted aesthetic, adopted persona.
History Repeats Itself: Subcultures and Identity
The idea of assigning yourself to a certain personage based on your interests in media and what they may be is hardly a new concept; it hails back as early as the 1950s, where, in the United Kingdom, mods – a subculture of youth characterized by mo-peds, stylish clothing, and an affinity for jazz and soul – and rockers, generally associated with biker subculture and rock ‘n’ roll music, had more or less begun terrorizing seaside towns in each group’s quest to come out the reigning supreme. Sure, maybe the “thought daughters” and the “brats” aren’t literally going to bat with one another, but if anything, they’re truly only following in the footsteps of those that came before them.
It’s difficult to say whether or not the “brats” and the “thought daughters” can truly be considered as subcultures. Yes, hyperpop and folk absolutely belong to certain countercultures, but one mustn’t forget: subcultures are not mere indicators of how we’d like the world to perceive us. They are something to live and die by. A subculture’s relationship with, and typically critique of, politics, popular culture, the mainstream is so unbelievably salient. So when even a piece of a subculture becomes the mainstream, invites politicians to participate in the party, where does that leave us?
The True Meaning Behind the Labels
Frankly, it just makes all of the pseudo-categorization feel a little silly; if you cannot talk the talk, you cannot walk the walk. Enjoying one hyperpop record does not a member of the subculture make, and the same goes for that of a downy folk record. At the end of the day, one has to wonder what the “thought daughters” and “brats” truly stand for; is it the right to read Mary Oliver? The right to party? How do these things define our aesthetic, and therefore that of our very essence? Do they have the legs to define our essence? Or are the “thought daughters” and “brats” of the world just fans (and there’s zilch wrong with simply being a fan!) dressing up as something much greater?
