Recently, I heard a discussion on the radio about how a Pretty Little Thing advert has been banned by the Advertising Standards Agency for being “overly sexualised” and “likely to cause serious offence by objectifying women”. This discussion focused on a simple, two-sided argument: no, the advert was empowering and should not have been banned, and yes, the advert sexualises women for no apparent reason and should not be allowed to be broadcast. Most discussions regarding this topic hinge simply on the empowering/sexualising dichotomy without ever delving into what this dichotomy means for the women who are defined by it, or if fashion advertising can ever be defined by such a binary.
This dichotomy is one that we have simply accepted as existing – the two verbs are used comparatively, often to discuss women, to either show appreciation or disdain, one side of the dichotomy is clearly positive, whilst the other side is negative. She is ‘empowered’ or she is ‘sexualised’, she is sometimes both, and sometimes neither. Understanding the line in the middle, the one between empowerment and sexualisation, is to understand power. Take the two verbs; empower and sexualise. To empower somebody and to sexualise somebody is to attribute something onto another person – it is a projection, or a gaze. Therefore, the power is rarely in the subject, it is enforced upon the subject by another being. Of course, feeling empowered can be sexy, or feeling sexy can be empowering, and I’m certainly not standing in the way of you seeking either of these things. But when the act of producing something specifically to be looked at is concerned (as is the case when creating fashion adverts), is the argument ever as black and white as these conversations have made it seem?
To define somebody as either empowered or sexualised is to project your own opinion onto their actions – what some may see as empowering, others are likely to see as sexualised. To argue on behalf of the advert, the power dynamics of the advert’s creation need to be known. Who made the ad, and who are they making the advert for are fundamental questions that need to be asked in order to understand whether the advert should have been banned. PLT’s demographic are young women aged 18-25 who want to stay on top of recent fashion trends without breaking the bank. It is easy to see, then, why some have argued that the advert is empowering – the models in the advert are beautiful and glowing, wearing clothes that would not be seen out of place at a university night out or festival weekend. The viewer the advert is intended for is likely to feel inspired by seeing models that are strong and not overly thin, confidently strutting and posing throughout the advert. The defence PLT offered echoes the feelings of most young women, saying that the advert promoted diversity through “bold and distinctive fashion of all shapes and sizes” and by showing “a healthy body image that was inclusive and empowered women”. The models in the advert seem happy and excited, so what is the problem?
The ad, however, was not simply targeted at those who are regular customers of the brand, it was a YouTube ad for all to see. This makes it difficult to argue for the empowerment of the models as, if they were acting of their own accord whilst wearing clothes that they feel comfortable in, they were not in control of who was looking at them – instead of being sure that the advert is being pointed towards people who are likely to buy the clothes, the advert instead can be looked at through the ogling eyes of teenage boys who certainly aren’t looking to buy pink disco pants. Furthermore, the aim of the director of the advert has to be taken into consideration; are they assuming that sex sells because that’s what their demographic are interested in, or are they simply interested in making a commotion by giving their models racy directions that are perhaps not in their best interest? Because of this, we don’t only have the projection of empowered or sexualised onto the model by the audience to consider, we have to consider the aims of those involved in the creation of the advert as they, too, impose a gaze onto the advert through their directions. To argue that the woman is empowered or sexualised is simply too two dimensional; there will be different power relationships at play that mean that these models, and therefore the advert as a whole, sit somewhere in the middle.
It is not lost on me, though, that the viewers who had an issue with this advert were clearly projecting their own negative opinions of female sexuality onto the advert. Despite the efforts of the brand to have the viewers focus be on the clothes they are trying to sell; the model immediately becomes an object regardless of what she is wearing because her sole existence is to be looked at. Perhaps, then, the issue should not be with PLT and their vinyl chaps (we should boycott these not because they sexualise the wearer but because they are a crime against fashion), it is instead with fashion advertisement as a whole. The female model within fashion adverts is being used specifically as an object whether she is wearing a full-length tulle gown with ostrich feather detailing or a pleather thong and a crop top.
The grey area that lies between empowerment and sexualisation is tricky because we all have different definitions of what those two things are. This argument will exist for as long as fashion advertising exists because, after all, brands are going to assume the characteristics of their customers and play up to those traits in their adverts in order to sell their products. If your customers go to raves in itty bitty bikinis, then they will want to know that you can cater to their needs. Should PLT really have had their advert banned for doing exactly that? I’m unsure. I can see why girls would want to wear leather bodysuits and tiny denim shorts, but do they ever wear these outfits to lie on the floor with a neon pole placed between their legs? Perhaps not.
This article was originally published in Issue 10 of Boyfriend magazine.
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