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Scene Queen
posted December 1, 2025
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Hiiiiii! It’s been about a year (or more) since I finished my
last round of Fashion Subgenres and I knew from the beginning that there
would be more installments. So here we are! I want to briefly thank the
influx of followers that are here from my Dollzmaker, and I sincerely
hope this scratches the same itch. Outside of teen magazine verticals,
part of my inspiration for this project comes from this website.
I would be remiss not to invoke Rob Dobi’s diligent cultural
anthropology of the mid-2000s. You’ll see his iteration of the same
fashion subgenre, and maybe you compare the two and decide if I did him
any justice.
Let’s start in 2006. The Scene Queen.
Her MySpace name is alliterative and dark. She’s got hair that’s a back-combed, teased, flat-ironed jumble of neon, blonde, and black. Bangs always swoop over her forehead, kept carefully out of her eyes with a hair clip. Her eye makeup is either circles of smoky black or very overlined wings, her foundation probably a shade too light and covering her lips. Because she’s either over eighteen or has very cool parents, there’s always facial piercings: a lip ring, Monroe, philtrum.
Her outfits are a perfect mix of hyperfeminine and horrorcore, with a dash of “Japanimation.” Graphic tees by time-capsule brands, Batman crop tops from little boys’ pajama sets, neon tube tops. Either skinny jeans or a tutu with ripped-up fishnets, always topped with a studded belt. Converse high-tops, Vans checkerboard sneakers, UO ballet flats—something stylish but unobtrusive. Throw on some rubber bracelets and a diamond-shaped plastic necklace and she’s basically set.
My best friend Lauren and I steadfastly followed the rules of being a cool kid. There were the obvious ones: You couldn’t be a poser. You couldn’t wear band shirts to the concert of the band you were seeing. You couldn’t straight up call yourself “emo” or a “scene kid” (tacky and gauche, let everyone else realize that for you).
Then there were those intangibles that you realized wannabes and attention whores were using as shorthand for being shmexy. Like saying “RAWR! I’m a dinosaur XD.” They were too obvious. People that did these things were obnoxious. We decided that “wearing a DARE t-shirt” and “bow hairclips” fell under this umbrella. That’s because it was so stupid and lame. I ended up shamefully giving in to temptation and ordering a youth size DARE shirt directly from their website. Lauren gave me an earful.
That didn’t stop us from wanting to actually be cool scene girls. We saw how much attention it got them–Kiki Kannibal was basically a C-list celebrity because of MySpace, Audrey Kitching dated fricking Brendon Urie from P!ATD, Jac Vanek became a millionaire because of her line of bracelets. Even if you didn’t get that far, how cool was the idea of being such a hottie that people pretended to be you and used your pictures to create their own MySpaces, to the point you had to record a “proof” video of yourself reading your User ID out loud and writing it on your arm in eyeliner. Who wouldn’t want to be THAT?
Then it became a whole thing. We were too ashamed of being scene girls in person because a) it was expensive, b) our parents would be confused, and c) we’d have to commit to being a scene girl. So we made alter egos and created Xanga pages for them. We’d have photo shoots where we dressed up as convincing scene girls, because if all it really took was some hair extensions and piercings and makeup to look hot, it should work for us, too. I was so not committed to dressing up like a scene girl that I made fake lip rings from the binding of a spiral notebook and cut the hair off my mermaid Barbie doll and used a barrette to attach it to my own.
You know what’s really cool? Xanga is dead and these photos are still hosted there. MySpace wishes :(
As much as I tried to resist it, I couldn’t escape the hold of Scene Queens. They were artsy and crazy but still had polished modeling shots for different graphic-tee brands and hoodies sold in Hot Topic. Like, in the pages of Alternative Press. It actually makes sense that I secretly admired it. I watched too much ‘80s content on VH1 and, as a kid, thought Nikki Sixx was a total babe; I was a weeaboo, spent most of my childhood on the computer, and was clearly into sad/angry rock music.
If you want to dress like an actual Scene Queen and not some girl on TikTok who was born in 2011 who is trying to relive her grandparents’ generation or some shit that makes you want to die, I have some shopping ideas for you. Just because I missed youuuuuuuuu! And I always do this!
Skelanimals Hoodie, vintage Hot Topic Skulls Tutu, Guin Prada Davis, Pleaser pink label ballet flats, Animal print extensions, vintage youth large DARE shirt, Betseyville vintage used bag, vintage Sanrio bow hairclip.
Let’s start in 2006. The Scene Queen.
Her MySpace name is alliterative and dark. She’s got hair that’s a back-combed, teased, flat-ironed jumble of neon, blonde, and black. Bangs always swoop over her forehead, kept carefully out of her eyes with a hair clip. Her eye makeup is either circles of smoky black or very overlined wings, her foundation probably a shade too light and covering her lips. Because she’s either over eighteen or has very cool parents, there’s always facial piercings: a lip ring, Monroe, philtrum.
Her outfits are a perfect mix of hyperfeminine and horrorcore, with a dash of “Japanimation.” Graphic tees by time-capsule brands, Batman crop tops from little boys’ pajama sets, neon tube tops. Either skinny jeans or a tutu with ripped-up fishnets, always topped with a studded belt. Converse high-tops, Vans checkerboard sneakers, UO ballet flats—something stylish but unobtrusive. Throw on some rubber bracelets and a diamond-shaped plastic necklace and she’s basically set.
My best friend Lauren and I steadfastly followed the rules of being a cool kid. There were the obvious ones: You couldn’t be a poser. You couldn’t wear band shirts to the concert of the band you were seeing. You couldn’t straight up call yourself “emo” or a “scene kid” (tacky and gauche, let everyone else realize that for you).
Then there were those intangibles that you realized wannabes and attention whores were using as shorthand for being shmexy. Like saying “RAWR! I’m a dinosaur XD.” They were too obvious. People that did these things were obnoxious. We decided that “wearing a DARE t-shirt” and “bow hairclips” fell under this umbrella. That’s because it was so stupid and lame. I ended up shamefully giving in to temptation and ordering a youth size DARE shirt directly from their website. Lauren gave me an earful.
That didn’t stop us from wanting to actually be cool scene girls. We saw how much attention it got them–Kiki Kannibal was basically a C-list celebrity because of MySpace, Audrey Kitching dated fricking Brendon Urie from P!ATD, Jac Vanek became a millionaire because of her line of bracelets. Even if you didn’t get that far, how cool was the idea of being such a hottie that people pretended to be you and used your pictures to create their own MySpaces, to the point you had to record a “proof” video of yourself reading your User ID out loud and writing it on your arm in eyeliner. Who wouldn’t want to be THAT?
Muses: Kiki Kannibal and Dakota Rose, Hanna Beth, Audrey Kitching, Jac Vanek, Millionaires
Then it became a whole thing. We were too ashamed of being scene girls in person because a) it was expensive, b) our parents would be confused, and c) we’d have to commit to being a scene girl. So we made alter egos and created Xanga pages for them. We’d have photo shoots where we dressed up as convincing scene girls, because if all it really took was some hair extensions and piercings and makeup to look hot, it should work for us, too. I was so not committed to dressing up like a scene girl that I made fake lip rings from the binding of a spiral notebook and cut the hair off my mermaid Barbie doll and used a barrette to attach it to my own.
As much as I tried to resist it, I couldn’t escape the hold of Scene Queens. They were artsy and crazy but still had polished modeling shots for different graphic-tee brands and hoodies sold in Hot Topic. Like, in the pages of Alternative Press. It actually makes sense that I secretly admired it. I watched too much ‘80s content on VH1 and, as a kid, thought Nikki Sixx was a total babe; I was a weeaboo, spent most of my childhood on the computer, and was clearly into sad/angry rock music.
If you want to dress like an actual Scene Queen and not some girl on TikTok who was born in 2011 who is trying to relive her grandparents’ generation or some shit that makes you want to die, I have some shopping ideas for you. Just because I missed youuuuuuuuu! And I always do this!
Skelanimals Hoodie, vintage Hot Topic Skulls Tutu, Guin Prada Davis, Pleaser pink label ballet flats, Animal print extensions, vintage youth large DARE shirt, Betseyville vintage used bag, vintage Sanrio bow hairclip.
Of course, underneath all of this was a careful performance of identity:
wanting to be looked at, but only in a way I could control, wishing I
could scream at the world I’M DEEP AND ALT AND A COOL KID without having
to explain myself. Anyway, missed u babe. Like4Like, Add4Add, PC4PC,
etc. <3