The world is captivated whenever a fresh face rises in pop culture—the new “It Girl” who seems to define a moment. But time and again, after her meteoric ascent, we witness a harsh cultural backlash: admiration sours to criticism, and yesterday’s darling becomes today’s scapegoat. Why does this happen? What’s at the root of this cycle, and what does it reveal about society?

The Life Cycle of the “It Girl”: Rise, Backlash, and Redemption

There’s a very specific pattern that plays out every time a new It Girl rises to fame, and once you know the script, it’s hard to unsee it. First, someone new bursts onto the scene—quirky, talented, aesthetically fresh, or simply perfectly suited for the moment. Think back: Marilyn Monroe in the 1950s, Bridget Bardot in the ’60s, Madonna in the ’80s, Winona Ryder and the supermodels of the ’90s, the chaotic trifecta of Paris Hilton, Britney Spears, and Lindsay Lohan in the 2000s, and the likes of Jennifer Lawrence, Anne Hathaway, Beyoncé, Megan Fox, and Taylor Swift in the 2010s and beyond.

What unites these women? Each was initially celebrated for relatability, beauty, or the cultural “it” factor. At the start (the rise), we love their newness and their rawness. We root for them because we see ourselves in their journey.

But then comes ubiquity. Suddenly, they’re everywhere—on TV, in interviews, brand deals, billboards, and social feeds. The same quirks and qualities that felt so fresh start to seem manufactured. Is that goofiness real or an act? Is the elegance authentic or smug? The public begins to question everything.

This overexposure is the tipping point. Think pieces, memes, and online debates start swirling. The fascination turns, and the third phase—backlash—begins. Criticism snowballs. Former fans become skeptics, and everyone wants to be the first to say she’s “annoying,” “overhyped,” or “problematic.” For example, Jennifer Lawrence was accused of being too relatable to the point of inauthenticity, Anne Hathaway was labeled a “try-hard,” while even Beyoncé once faced criticism for being too perfect.

Some “It Girls” endure and reach a fourth phase: redemption. They go dark for a while, rebrand, or reclaim their own story—like Anne Hathaway returning as a confident fashion icon with playful self-awareness, or Taylor Swift making her comeback narrative the center of her brand. The pattern holds, but so do the opportunities for reinvention.

Why Does This Cycle Keep Happening?

1. We Resent Overexposure
Culture loves to discover new talent, but society quickly sours when someone becomes omnipresent. What was once new and exciting becomes overfamiliar and irritating. We crave novelty, and when it’s gone, our affection fades.

2. Cultural Projection and Betrayal
The “It Girl” often mirrors the mood or aspirations of the times. When she evolves or outgrows her initial persona, fans feel betrayed—as if she owed them consistency, even when change is part of any creative journey.

3. Sexism and Double Standards
Underlying this pattern is deep-seated gender bias. Women in the spotlight are scrutinized for taking up space, expressing ambition, or simply changing. Criticisms often focus on confidence, ambition, or perfection—traits celebrated in men but policed in women.

What Can We Learn from the “It Girl” Cycle?

• Relatability Isn’t Everything: Building a brand on relatability alone is risky. Once success arrives, stars must be ready to pivot, understanding that public perception will inevitably change.
• Control Your Narrative: The celebrities who survive the backlash are those who actively reclaim their own stories—by leaning into reinvention, vulnerability, or even retreating from the spotlight to return on their own terms.
• Backlash Is Not Personal: For creators and public figures, it’s essential to recognize that backlash often reflects broader societal discomfort, not individual shortcomings.
• Substance Over Hype: The stars who weather the storm are those whose talents, mission, or depth give people a reason to care even when the hype fades.
• Redemption is Possible: Whether through humor, honesty, or strategic evolution, many “It Girls” have staged comebacks by owning their flaws and redefining their brand.

Conclusion

The cycle of building up and tearing down “It Girls” reveals as much about culture as it does about individuals. It’s a mirror of how we handle novelty, project our ideals, and how gender shapes our collective narratives. This pattern may persist, but awareness is the first step in breaking it—championing growth, complexity, and real support for women beyond their hottest moment in the sun.

The world of music is filled with glitter, fame, and the promise of dreams fulfilled. But behind the dazzling lights, many artists have encountered a much darker reality—one defined by control, intimidation, and power struggles with the very company that helped launch their careers. Few music corporations cast a longer shadow than Sony Music Entertainment, and as the stories of countless artists reveal, the price of success can be disturbingly high.

Michael Jackson Sounded the Alarm

It was 2002 in Harlem when Michael Jackson—the King of Pop—stood before a crowd, not to perform, but to warn. Frustrated and angry, Jackson called out Sony Music and its then-president, Tommy Mottola, describing behind-the-scenes battles that most fans never saw. At the heart of the feud: control over creative output and, more crucially, control over song publishing rights.

Jackson’s relationship with Sony began as a partnership, but after he secured a stake in ATV Music Publishing (which he later merged with Sony to form Sony/ATV), the value of his involvement soared. When he wanted to leave Sony and operate independently, the company allegedly began undermining his projects, under-promoting his 2001 album Invincible despite huge production costs. Jackson publicly accused Sony of trying to force him into default so the company could seize his valuable catalog—a suspicion later lent weight when Sony, following Jackson’s passing, acquired his estate’s share of the publishing rights.

Contracts as Cages

Jackson’s warnings weren’t isolated. His story is just one in a long line of artist conflicts with Sony. The pattern often begins with a young, gifted artist signing a contract in pursuit of fame. As they succeed and pursue creative freedom, their desire for more say over their own music runs headlong into corporate interests. At that point, many say the company reveals its true, more menacing face.

Kesha’s battle with Sony and Dr. Luke made headlines worldwide. Trapped in a contract with her alleged abuser, Kesha pleaded for her freedom, only to be told her artistic fate lay outside Sony’s control—despite the label’s clear influence. For five years, Kesha’s professional and personal life were left in limbo, illuminating how ironclad contracts could be wielded as weapons rather than partnerships in pursuit of art.

Mariah Carey, George Michael, and Kelly Clarkson all waged their own wars for agency and creative control. Many faced sabotage: withheld promotion, negative press, and stalling tactics that left their careers in jeopardy unless they bowed to corporate demands. Mariah Carey described her relationship with Mottola and Sony as stifling, likening her existence to captivity. George Michael lost a landmark legal battle in the ’90s, calling his multi-year, multi-album contract “professional slavery”—and choosing to sit out his own career rather than continue as Sony’s property.

Beyond the Superstars

These high-profile cases are only the tip of the iceberg. Sony’s sprawling catalog and control over song publishing rights mean that even behind-the-scenes producers, songwriters, and rising artists often find themselves locked in deals they come to regret. With settlements and non-disclosure agreements hiding many details from the public, the true scale of artists’ struggles within Sony’s empire is likely much greater than what has reached the headlines.

Artists have reported:

• Contracts that tie them to the company for years or albums beyond reasonable career spans.
• Loss of ownership of masters and publishing rights, even for songs they wrote.
• Deliberate under-promotion or shelving of projects if they don’t comply with corporate wishes.
• Public relations attacks framing artists as “difficult” or “ungrateful” to shift blame and control the narrative.

Why Are Artists Still Signing?

Sony’s resources, marketing reach, and legendary history make it hard for new musicians to turn away. When a record executive dangles promises of fame and distribution, it’s little wonder artists still sign. But as Jackson and so many others have shown, those contracts often come with fine print that can bind, silence, and control—for years.

A Changing Landscape?

In recent years, more artists are speaking out, advocating for fairer contracts, more artist ownership, and creative freedom. Independent releases, re-recording old catalogs (like Taylor Swift), and public advocacy are starting to shift the balance. But the legacy of Sony’s tactics—and Jackson’s public warning—remains a cautionary tale.

When artists as varied as Michael Jackson, Kesha, George Michael, and Mariah Carey all say the same thing—that power in the music industry can become a weapon—the world should listen. The next generation of artists may be more empowered and aware, but the lessons of the past, and the warnings of those who lived it, remain more relevant than ever.

Sydney Sweeney, best known for her breakout role as Cassie on HBO’s “Euphoria,” is no stranger to internet fascination or controversy. Her latest American Eagle campaign, however, has set off a new firestorm—not for her acting, but for the ad’s messaging and unsettling cultural subtext.

The Jeans Pun and Its Social Fallout

The ad features Sweeney—blonde, blue-eyed, and the poster child for the “IT girl” aesthetic—proudly declaring she has “great jeans,” playing on the double entendre of “jeans” (denim pants) and “genes” (heritable traits). On the surface, it’s a cheeky, seemingly innocuous line. But for many, in the current political climate, it rings out-of-touch or even disturbing.

At a time when questions of race, representation, and reproductive rights are at the center of public debate, using a blond, blue-eyed white woman to talk up her “great genes” evokes echoes of eugenicist ideology—a dog whistle that, whether intentional or not, can’t be ignored. The juxtaposition is uncomfortable: features that have historically been idealized are packaged as inherited virtues, raising concerns about which bodies and traits are celebrated in American media and which are sanitized or excluded.

The Problem of Ambiguity in Messaging

It isn’t only the pun itself that has people talking, but American Eagle’s apparent shift away from their once-celebrated inclusive branding. For years, the company marketed itself on ads featuring a diverse range of models and body types. Pivoting to the old “thin, white, hyper-edited” aesthetic feels like a step backward. With anti-diversity currents rising, the brand’s optics seem, at best, tone-deaf and, at worst, willfully regressive.

Meanwhile, the ambiguity of the campaign—its unclear messaging, hidden references to divisive ads of the past, and afterthought charity tie-in—leaves viewers unsettled. The lack of an explicit stance from Sweeney or American Eagle about inclusivity or social concerns adds to the sense of uncertainty and cynicism.

Sydney Sweeney: Victim, Architect, or Bystander?

Sweeney’s own silence on political and social issues has made her a blank canvas for projection. Some fans rush to her defense, remembering her vulnerable Euphoria character and the protective environment they hoped she had on set. Others point to her previous controversies—like the infamous “MAGA party” photos, her collaboration with a bathwater-themed soap, and a string of right-wing admirers—to argue that she’s knowingly courting or at least not pushing back against toxic fanbases.

Is Sweeney responsible for the ad’s messaging? Should her looks disqualify her from brand campaigns? Critics note that it’s not her beauty but whom and what that beauty is made to represent—particularly in moments when brands skirt dangerously close to dog whistles or retrograde ideals.

Is Culture Shifting or Just Repeating?

What makes the response to this campaign uniquely intense is the feeling that it isn’t just Sweeney or one ad, but a reflection of growing aesthetic and ideological shifts in popular culture. There’s a sense of déjà vu: highly curated white femininity, retrograde messaging, and a blurring between authenticity and performance, all set against a backdrop of political regression.

Many feel a loss of nuance—where overtly problematic symbols are easy to decry, but subtler, ambient shifts toward exclusion or coded language are harder to discuss, and easier for brands or celebrities to wave off as “over-reading.” The risk is that these ambiguities provide space for the normalization of regressive attitudes, intentionally or not.

So, What Now?

Ultimately, the Sydney Sweeney/American Eagle saga is less about any single person or company and more about the culture at large. It’s a litmus test for what we’re willing to overlook about beauty, privilege, and messaging in media. The outcry isn’t just a knee-jerk reaction to a pun—it’s a warning flare about the direction of inclusive representation, and who (if anyone) will stand up and say when it’s going the wrong way.

Sweeney, for her part, remains silent—her beauty the symbolic battleground while others debate her intent or complicity. But the conversation her ad sparked is a reminder: even “innocent” wordplay in a denim commercial can tap into deep national anxieties about who gets to model America’s future, and whether that future belongs to everyone.