For the Girls, Not the Gaze
What Sabrina Gets Right About Sex Appeal and Sydney Still Doesn’t
Last month, Sabrina Carpenter surprised fans by announcing a new album, just a year after releasing her Grammy-winning Short n’ Sweet. She revealed the cover for the upcoming record, Man’s Best Friend, which shows her on all fours while a faceless man in a suit strokes her hair. Instantly, social media was flooded with thinkpieces about how this was a step back for women. Blah, blah, blah.
This isn’t the first time Sabrina’s been criticized for her overtly sexual performances and tongue-in-cheek lyrics.
Not long after, American Eagle dropped the denim ad heard ’round the world, starring fellow blonde Sydney Sweeney. Cue the discourse avalanche about eugenics-coded language, vintage white beauty standards, and the fetishization of Americana. Naturally, the internet lumped the two women together, accusing them of the same crime: appealing to the male gaze.
I strongly reject this premise. Yes, both women are beautiful. Yes, both know how to command attention. But only one of them feels like she’s in on the joke. The other feels like she’s unknowingly become the punchline.
Sabrina Carpenter: Coquette-Core with a Side of Theatrics
In her Short n’ Sweet era, Sabrina leaned into frilly lingerie, pastel hues, and bratty lyrics—performing hyper-femininity so exaggerated it becomes camp. She’s not trying to be some man’s dream girl; she’s playing one. Her entire aesthetic flirts with the male gaze while simultaneously mocking it.
You see it in the visuals. You hear it in the music.
She may not go full man-hater, but she definitely rolls her eyes at them. On “Espresso,” “Dumb and Poetic” and “Coincidence,” she patronizes her male subjects with contempt. On her latest hit “Manchild,” she graduates from man-shaming to man-hating, mocking her past lovers claiming, “I swear they choose me, I'm not choosing them.” The men in her songs aren’t threats or heartbreakers. They’re… nuisances. Dumb. Easy to forget.
Sydney Sweeney: The Male Gaze’s Favorite Daughter
Whether it’s Euphoria, car commercials, or glossy ad campaigns, Sydney Sweeney is consistently framed as an object—to be looked at, not to look back. Her signature haunted, doe-eyed expression mimics a very specific kind of fragility. It’s seductive, but submissive. Beautiful, but breakable. A damsel aesthetic that appeals to the male psyche: not because she’s powerful, but because she looks like she needs saving.
That’s the fantasy being sold — not a woman in control, but a woman who seems slightly damaged, slightly undone.
Not dangerous, but delicate. Not independent, but in need.
In a cultural imagination still shaped by male directors and male audiences, Sydney has become the ideal muse: someone who doesn’t challenge male power, but subtly reinforces it. She doesn’t take up too much space. She doesn’t talk back. She’s alluring without being assertive.
The American Eagle campaign drove this home. Between the name, the baggy denim, and the press rollout, the whole thing felt like a not-so-subtle wink to eugenics and retro beauty politics. And Sydney? Silent.
She’s beautiful. That’s the brand. That’s the content. No irony. No layers. Just boobs, blonde, and 10,000 brand deals.
Why This Difference Matters
Sabrina is selling irony. She uses the tools of seduction to parody seduction itself. Sydney is selling nostalgia—a throwback to a time when women smiled, looked pretty and stayed quiet. (Think: Betty Draper)
The former feels modern and defiant. The latter feels dated and deferential.
Yes, women can and should do whatever they want with their image. But let’s not pretend we can’t tell the difference between a performance that’s made for us versus one that’s clearly still for them.
Sabrina’s rise proves what Gen Z and millennials actually relate to:
Femininity with bite
Sex appeal that smirks
Beauty with a bratty, knowing edge
Because the future of hotness isn’t about being stared at like an object, it’s about controlling the terms of your own desirability.
