Glitter catches rays of light atop eyelids dusted in smoky shadow, a fleshy, fishnet-clad thigh bumps-then-grinds its twin provocatively; they are only upstaged by the rigorously cinched corset and x-shaped pasties stealing the show with little regard for hurt feelings in the process. No, this isn’t the first look in Megan’s, Taylor’s, or Chloe’s newest visual for a forthcoming release… though it would barely raise even the most judgemental brow if it was.
It’s the reveal ensemble from “I’m not here to Make Friends” that did just what the title asserted, earning singer Sam Smith a tsunami of online foes vehemently opposed to the non-binary crooner’s latest aesthetic evolution. It was the top of the year and, of course, among those throwing verbal tomatoes at high-visibility queers to ring in 2023 were far-right zealots and their legions of online disciples. By February, after a Kim-Petras-dueted performance of the TikTok juggernaut “Unholy”, they were screaming “groomer” at Smith while the singer strolled through central park.
Sam Smith gets called “demonic, bastard and pedophile” in the streets of New York by an elderly woman, following their Grammy performance.
— Pop Base (@PopBase) February 16, 2023
pic.twitter.com/L66BYBSgxZ
Disappointing, disheartening, and disingenuous (cause even conservatives used that “…at the body shop…” audio for reels), yes. But shocking? No. The vitriol that a newly minted Pussy Cat Sam had solicited was on-brand for Bible-thumpers and maybe even exactly what savvy, “any press is good press”-minded record execs had hoped for.
What was not quite as on brand was the comment section scuffle occurring among gay men regarding Smith’s body-ody-ody and the ways in which it didn’t line up with this moment’s “muscle-mary” veneration.
The gays had emerged from their pandemic-era-isolation gender explorations, feenin’ for a new brand of queer-sexy: the “femme-d brute” (as exemplified by IG’s never-ending parade of gym-honed, male-presenting physiques clad in JJ-malibu thong maillots, Ck sports bras, and Cher Horowitz-worthy schoolgirl mini-kilts) is THE moment, if not the thoroughly inclusive moment some would like it to be.
Smith, still visually in alignment with many male body conventions, was serving harlot alongside a supple tum and plush arse. No rock-hard pecs, spherical biceps, or steel quads to be found. And due to this non-compliance with codes-of-cool, all hell broke loose. Yes, rather unholy indeed.
It was not the first time Smith’s body had been put under the magnifying glass, but perhaps the first time that the most critical eyes weren’t the singer’s own.
Exploding onto the international music scene in 2014, Smith’s debut felt marked by an almost apologetic obscuring of the singer’s body. Alden Jackson, owner of Los Angeles vintage boutique Cool and Casual Studios (and passionate advocate for plus-mens style) recalls “it was all tight facial closeups, black clothes, and extremely covered looks…like, ‘do NOT pay ANY attention to my body.’”
Almost as though Adele’s early recipe was being tweaked male-presenting, swapping in a tux for the modest gown, keeping the emphasis on doe eyes, and maintaining the general sex-free visual language.
The artist’s subsequent 2017 project, The Thrill of it All would find Smith slimming dramatically and being deemed a gay heart-throb in the process—still very covered by suits but those of the slim-legged/nipped waist silhouette favored by ambitious gay realtors around the world.
Struggling with the extreme demands of maintaining this trimmed build, Smith opened up about past body challenges in 2019, going public with a shocking admission of having undergone liposuction at age 12.
There was something sweet about the liberating flirtation with sensuality that this all-grown-up 12-year-old was navigating on the set of that year’s “How do you sleep” where they gave us body rolls, hip swivels, and (gasp) a bare chest beneath a vampishly belted suit (it was a VERY WIDE shot but, yep, pretty sure that was Sam).
These days, touring with a large-scale production for the January-released Gloria, Sam is unmistakable, whether on the red carpet in inflatable latex at the Brit Awards or frolicking beachside in barely there string bikini briefs, the star is taking up SPACE-space, ironically something still deemed controversial for a big-bodied individual to do.
That space is both physical (Smith is currently embracing a body that isn’t at odds with the number on a scale) and cultural, presenting in the hot-and-bothered style-vocab previously reserved for pop tartlets traditionally deemed “lithe”, “pretty”, “athletic”, and/or “sexy”.
Upon closer examination, these descriptors are all in fact subjectively assessed, though comment sections and critics alike often treat them as though they were calculated via a scientifically precise rubric. Sam isn’t wasting time trying to solve the sphinx’s riddle of “how to be hot” before claiming a piece of the sensuality pie.
It’s at times a little tough to know how to feel about this new Sam Smith. Are people cringing at the body, the getup, The “Lady Marmalade” vibe, or some combo thereof? Which of those things is politically above board for the cringe these days? Would the cringes be solicited if Sam was slimmer, cis-female, more muscular, more ubiquitously deemed “hot”, and/or more authoritatively in the driving seat of this rebrand?
Tough questions with no exact answers to be immediately located, but something does seem of note. Sam’s provocative blossoming has occurred in a moment during which it is perhaps too queer for even some gay mainstreamers. It’s not cis-gay, gym-toned, and masc.-adjacent enough for the type of gay embrace and affirmation that your bartender or gogo-boy gets when he wears a lace thong.
If fair is fair, then this writer hopes to see more candid feedback for those two “hotties” and their struggle-tenor covers of Sam Smith’s “Stay with Me” at local karaoke nights going forward.
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