Stolen Valour?
Considering the recent SKIMS’ fake nipple piercing bra, bespoke temporary tattoos and the Indie Sleaze revival amid a generation where drinking is at an all-time low, where does rebellion sit now? Bravery now often feels performative, and so rebellion risks becoming more about image than real consequence.
The SKIMS ‘ultimate pierced nipple push up bra’ in colour Onyx. The model pulls up her top to show faux nipple piercings- is this a step towards making body modification accessible, or does it dilute a once radical form of self-expression? Traditionally linked to individuality and rebellion, piercings now find themselves repackaged by multimillion- dollar brands- raising questions about whether this is innovation or cultural gentrification. Photo available via SKIMS. © All rights belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.
An interesting conversation has recently been circulating within the echo chambers of fashion discourse, sparked by the release of the SKIMS faux nipple piercing bra- with an overwhelming majority engaging in tongue-in-cheek uproar, labelling the product an endorsement of ‘stolen valour’. Many have compared it to those infamously tacky shirts with sheer, faux tattoo sleeves buried in a pile of early y2k fashion failures. Retailing at £80 on the SKIMS website, the bra actually outprices the cost of getting a real nipple piercing - averaging at around £30 each in the UK- so why are people choosing to fake the look?
Kim Kardashian in the 2023 SKIMS campaign for the nipple bra (SKIMS, 2023). Body modification is rendered sleek and commercial, with simulated piercings styled into shapewear as an aesthetic flourish. Rebellion shifts from action to surface—symbols once tied to permanence and risk become curated features of a luxury product. The visual language reflects a wider cultural moment shaped by performance over consequence, identity reduced to costume, and counterculture absorbed into commercial design. Available via British Vogue © All rights belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.
A friend (who recently got her nipples pierced) and I were discussing this complex, she agreed that having certain piercings or tattoos represents a kind of commitment, one that outlives our meta trend cycle (churning faster than a washing machine on spin), and that we now tend to be noncommittal when formulating our identities since aesthetics are transitory and disposable. The permanence of body modification seems at odds with a trend landscape defined by ephemerality.
More recently, I was at a party when a friend rolled up his shirt to show off his brand new tramp stamp- a bold choice for a first tattoo. When I asked when and where he’d got it, he laughed and admitted it was fake- a temporary tattoo meant to stay for a week or two. The realism was palpable, temporary tattoos have since evolved from garish dinosaurs and faeries in kids’ party bags to coveted products sold to adults. What struck me the most was the irony: the concept of a fake tramp stamp- a cultural icon that symbolizes spontaneity, rebellion and cheek (in more ways than one)- now applied like a sticker, worn not for its meaning but for its aesthetic. It looks cool, and you’re wearing it to say something about yourself- but that thing isn’t necessarily true. With the faking of piercings and tattoos, counter culture risks becoming more about image than real consequence. By all means, the concept of ‘posers’ is arguably tired and prejudiced, yet this raises questions as to why the aesthetic of rebellion is so coveted.
Capitalism, of course, plays a central role, under consumer culture, niche expressions of identity are swiftly plucked from their subcultural roots and rebranded as sellable products. Each month yields a plentiful crop of microtrends, leaving us reeling in a cycle of regurgitated polyester and the endeavour to keep up. The internet, specifically TikTok, Pinterest and Instagram, function as vast catalogues of aesthetics, you no longer have to wriggle your way through the murky underbelly of various subcultures to discover Steampunk or Harajuku - it’s all neatly exhibited for us. Therefore, one does not have to be a practicing member of a certain subculture in order to champion the right to wear their uniform, looks can be tried on for a day then discarded from the rack just as quickly.
Take, for instance, the rise of Indie Sleaze- an aesthetic characterised by smudged eyeliner, glitter, ripped slogan tees and Tumblr-era hedonism. Searches for ‘Indie Sleaze have surged by 43% in recent years on Depop. Yet this revival seems strangely at odds with current behavioural trends- a slew of reports have recently been published on the decline of drinking culture within Gen Z, one published by Berenberg Research describes a 20% decline in alcohol consumption per capita within Gen Z as compared to Millennials, with around 1/3 of Gen Z not drinking at all. This pattern is interesting in comparison to the rebirth of Indie Sleaze, in which drinking culture is a vital organ, search it on Pinterest, and your laptop will be rendered technicolour with images of girls toppling over, lung-fuls of cigarette smoke and red solo cups in hand.
Much alike the SKIMS nipple piercing bra, the rebirth of Indie Sleaze in this generation seems disingenuous to some, the careful orchestration of counter culture and rebellion arguably revokes any and all desired air of spontaneity that gave it meaning in the first place. One could argue this is to do with society’s transition into the postmodern era. French Sociologist and Philosopher Jean Baudrillard notes that the proliferation of signs and symbols (visual tokens or aesthetics adjacent to counter culture) within modern media and culture has led to a situation where the simulation of rebellion now holds more cultural weight than the act of rebellion itself. Why? Because authentic rebellion tends to disrupt and be hard to digest, whereas simulated rebellion is clean, consumable and shareable. It fits within the logic of capitalism once depoliticised, Che Guevara shirts are no longer for the Marxist Revolutionaries, but are now stocked alongside baby tees at Urban Outfitters with no risk of inspiring a communist uprising. The appearance of rebellion becomes the product, be it through style, language or symbolic action, repackaged and sold as a simulacrum of its original intent. This perhaps explains today’s phenomena of rebellion by proxy that requires no risk, commitment or consequence.
This is not to say all of this is inherently bad. In fact it might be prejudiced, even regressive, to suggest that rebellion must come with suffering in order to be valid. Accessibility has expanded- consider people with mastectomies or breastfeeding mothers who are now able to reclaim a once loved piercing thanks to the SKIMS bra, or those still saving up for tattoos granted a temporary fix. Maybe we should reframe our cynicism, perhaps it’s about trying it on rather than faking it.
Yes, this arguably demands less blood, sweat, and tears- but perhaps that’s the point. In an age where our image is everything, maybe the most radical act isn’t gatekeeping rebellion, but embracing self-expression by rejecting the policing of bodies. The future of counterculture might not lie in how authentic it is, but how freely it’s worn?
