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Victoria’s Secret Swim 2012 by Cyril Attias 

RESURGENCE OF THE 'HEROIN CHIC': THE FEMALE BODY AS A CYCLICAL TREND

October 29, 2024

Eileen Lincoln

A cultural obsession with malnourished, emaciated bodies, first popularized through the term “heroin chic” in the late-1990s is in its full resurgence. The female body is yet again subjected to an unattainable extremity of thinness, promoting the aesthetic manifestations of drug abuse and the deterioration of physical health that ensues. While heroin addiction may no longer be glamorized within the fashion industry following the death of Davide Sorrenti in 1997, this brink-of-death thinness has repeatedly been surmounted into modern narratives of beauty.

 

The continuation of 2024 has showcased how our favorite celebrities are all suddenly using Ozempic, surgically removing their buccal fat in desperate attempts to reform their physical appearance by adopting features of ghastly, bodily decay. Heroin has since been exchanged for prescribed diabetes drugs and the endless advancement of plastic surgery procedures. But weren’t we just idealizing the Kardashians’ voluptuous, “slim-thick” figure, the abundance of body positivity campaigns that have been perpetuated through social media? Why does our cultural comprehension of the ideal female body always shift in a cyclical fashion, constantly returning to the idea of thinness?

 

The term “heroin chic” was first coined by Interview editor Ingrid Sischy while covering the wake of Davide Sorrenti: “This is heroin, this isn’t chic. This has got to stop, the heroin chic.” Sorrenti himself had only recently begun utilizing the drug prior to his passing, and yet, his death swiftly established a cultural linkage between heroin usage and experimental fashion photography. The extrapolation of this association through the media—conflating new fashion representation with the rising popularity of the drug amongst younger generations—only furthered the prominence of the term, becoming synonymous with counter-cultural impressions of the fashion industry. Photographer Corinne Day captured a vulnerable framing of Kate Moss’ half-dressed, frail body in a 1993 Vogue UK spread, evoking a rawness that challenged traditional high fashion portraits. Moss, having participated in a series of similar shoots, soon emerged as the face of the “heroin chic” movement.

 

Since the rise of “heroin chic,” we can dictate similar temporal evolutions of the ideal body: the 2000s embraced lean, toned, athletic figures (think Gisele Bündchen for Victoria’s Secret) while the late 2010s promoted curvy hourglasses that emphasized a tiny waist (eg. Kim Kardashian, Nicki Minaj). These trends are not only traceable but always operate in some relation to the maintenance of thinness, contending against the natural form of the female body. Yet, in the past few years, a new stature for thinness has resurfaced with the misuse of semaglutide drugs, the most notorious being Ozempic.

 

While only some celebrities have outwardly admitted to taking Ozempic for weight loss purposes, there is vast speculation of many figures who have undergone drastic weight transformations in short periods of time. As if the progression of plastic surgery had not already engendered enough of a disparity, the unattainable weight loss permitted by Ozempic has only heightened the exclusivity of thinness—could this be why the excessively thin body of the “heroin chic” is suddenly garnering popularity once again?

 

Despite efforts spanning the last decade to diversify representations of the female body on social media, many body positivity movements have been scrutinized for their performativity. As opposed to genuinely promoting a healthy body image, corporations often attempt to exploit the market shift to expand their network of profit. The sudden resurgence of the “heroin chic” only exposes a temporary, falsified state of cultural progress: the shortcomings of the body positivity movement reflect the repressed glorification of extreme thinness lodged within our culture. Pro-ana communities that previously thrived on social media platforms such as Tumblr have found new resonances on X and TikTok, disguised under the labels of wellness or health content. Likewise, Instagram’s algorithm has been proven to continuously recommend harmful content to impressionable audiences, showcasing the failure of many filtration systems on social media.

 

The ongoing popularity of Ozempic suggests that thinness will continue to underscore our conception of the female body. A sinister danger lies within the glorification of malnourished bodies—a founding trait of the re-surging “heroin chic” movement—that allows for these extreme depictions of thinness to manifest into forms of self-harm. While you could previously only view photographs of Kate Moss’ gaunt physique by picking up the latest issue of a fashion magazine, the “heroin chic” is now routinely bred through the nebulous span of the Internet, reproduced endlessly for young audiences to witness and internalize. 


 

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