Let’s set the scene: A Victoria’s Secret bombshell bra peeks out of a hot pink tracksuit with “Juicy” written in sparkling letters across the rear. Orange fake tan rubs off on a latex pink bodycon dress. Long magenta nails that could take out an eye reach for a pair of Playboy bunny earrings. 

Cut to bobby socks with lace frills sticking out of a pair of black and white saddle shoes from who knows what year. Pastel pink blush smudges the sleeve of a bubblegum-pink turtleneck. Nails the color of a ballet slipper tie a satin ribbon into a delicate bow.

These vignettes may seem like a period piece, a look into the bedrooms of young women in two drastically different bygone eras. A reader’s heart may ache thinking about the ways these blissfully unaware women conform their appearance to cater to the male gaze.

However, these women know exactly what they are doing, and it certainly is not trying to appeal to the male gaze. Meet the bimbo and the coquette.

While the concept of style trends has existed for centuries, it wasn’t until the mid-2010s that internet users began to define and name style genres more clearly with the suffix “-core.” Platforms like TikTok and Pinterest have contributed to the rise of increasingly niche “cores” that seemingly go in and out of vogue by the hour.

That’s where bimbocore and coquette style enter the picture. Although visually very different, these two aesthetics have one thing in common: They embrace conventionally feminine colors and silhouettes. They both belong to a category of aesthetics dubbed “hyperfeminine” by the internet.

Named after the French word for “flirtatious,” coquette is a style aesthetic defined by traditionally girly colors and fabrics like pale pink and lace. The style takes inspiration from a plethora of sources from the 1950s as well as centuries long gone by. Frilly and dainty are two words to summarize the style.

While many people have flocked to add bows and lace to their wardrobes, the style has also drawn detractors. Some have criticized the style for its echoing of Victorian and Rococo styles, posing concerns about the outdated ideas of femininity it may evoke and who may be excluded from its ranks as a result. 

Likewise, bimbocore has stirred a deal of controversy, stemming both from elements of the style and from the very name itself. Merriam-Webster lists bimbo as an “informal” and “usually disparaging” noun, defined as “an attractive but vacuous woman.” It’s easy to understand why some might take offense to willingly following a style that derives its name from a term rooted in misogyny.

Many well-intentioned women reject the color pink — the primary palette for each of these styles, albeit in different hues — on the grounds that, by wearing the color, they will uphold dated ideas surrounding gender expression. That’s not to say that some people who identify as women don’t enjoy pink or dressing in a traditionally feminine way. However, many women who love pink deep down are scared to wear it, not wanting to cave to the patriarchy. 

Moreover, many women fear they won’t be taken seriously if they embrace elements of traditional femininity, no matter how much they may truly prefer wearing skirts to work over slacks. After all, many women find it hard enough to be taken seriously by men, even if they don’t present as stereotypically feminine.

One female scientist tested the difference in the respect given to men and women with an online experiment. Her findings were honestly not very shocking: When tweeting with a male scientist persona, the scientist received less pushback and less “nitpicking” than when she tweeted as a female scientist.

It’s easy to understand why many women may feel the need to distance themselves from femininity. Bimbos and coquettes, however, reject this idea. Frankly, they spit in its face. In reality, simply avoiding wearing girly things in a bid to garner respect reinforces the idea that women are the problem — when, really, it is the misogyny that creates gender inequality. 

For centuries, men have de jure or de facto policed what women wear. Although less prevalent today, laws still exist worldwide to control what women can wear. Just this summer, France banned their Olympic athletes from wearing hijabs to compete.

It is radical for women to wear exactly what they want in a world that constantly polices female bodies, especially those that are not white, thin or able-bodied. It is even more subversive to wear styles that say, “I know what you think I am” — an act that in turn strips the power from people and institutions who seem to think their misogyny is some well-kept, dirty little secret.

And, by exaggerating conventional notions of feminine style and female roles, hyperfeminine styles challenge the absurdity of gendered expectations. In a way, this concept mirrors some of the founding notions of the art of drag.

As philosopher Judith Butler has said, gender is a performance. Self-proclaimed coquettes and bimbos are well aware of this. Critics of hyperfeminine styles seem to miss that key point. 

Bimbos’ and coquettes’ self-directed performances are not a straight play. Instead, they are satirical farces, live versions of political cartoons. I don’t know about you, but I love a good farce.

Bimbos and coquettes fight for a future that’s a little more fair and free for all. Their armies’ weapons of choice? Bombshell bras and bows.