Villains Wear Pink

Hollywood’s portrayal of hyper-femininity frames feminine aesthetics as visual transgression, casting beauty, spectacle, and surface as threats to narrative morality and female autonomy.

Rachel McAdams, Lacey Chabert, and Amanda Seyfried in Mean Girls (2004), directed by Mark Waters and styled by Mary Jane Fort, embody an aesthetic regime of controlled excess—satin sheen, pastel tonality, and polished symmetry—deployed as a sartorial language of authority, desirability, and exclusion. The scene crystallizes how early 2000s teen cinema mobilized hyper-femininity as both spectacle and social threat. Courtesy of Paramount Pictures. Available via Dazed © All rights belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.

I have had absolutely enough of the demonization of girly girls. 

What I mean by this is Hollywood's obsession with portraying hyper feminine women as metaphorical succubi. The "villainization" of hyper-feminine characters in niche teen films refers to their portrayal as evil or stupid due to their exaggerated femininity. This often implicates harmful gender stereotypes, such as the idea that women are manipulative, cruel, or superficial, like femininity itself is some kind of red flag.

As soon as we hear the clicking on high heels on linoleum at the beginning of a movie, we know trouble is coming, and when we see a flurry of pink and the sparkle of lip gloss, we know who not to root for. In Hollywood’s teen girl universe, hyper-femininity and popularity go hand in hand, but it’s never painted as a good thing. The pretty girl, dressed in bright colors and always perfectly groomed with a fresh blowout, stands in stark contrast to her unpleasant personality.

It's important to note that the villainization of hyper-feminine characters in niche teen films is not a new phenomenon. It’s been with us for decades and continues to be a problem in the film industry. However, the more we call it out, the closer we get to seeing feminine women represented as complex, powerful, and, God forbid, actually likable.

Let’s take Mean Girls as Exhibit A. The film lays out a high school social hierarchy where the most hyper-feminine girls sit at the top, wielding power and taking names. Meanwhile, the quieter, less “polished” girls are sidelined, mocked, or flat-out erased. The message? Femininity is a weapon, and whoever gets the power, uses it for evil.

But the girls who don’t fit that mold? They’re painted as victims and yet somehow morally superior, simply because they lack the traits that Hollywood loves to punish. As if carrying a designer bag made you morally bankrupt. Thus, we, as the audience, are introduced to the Plastics. 

Regina George enters like a goddess: a glamorous blonde literally carried by a crowd of men, dripping with power, desirability, and the kind of influence only afforded to the hottest girl in school. Karen Smith wears the most revealing version of their uniform, signaling her role as the token “slutty one”, a trait reinforced again and again throughout the film. Gretchen Wieners is introduced mid-phone call, flustered and frantic, setting her up immediately as the classic gossip. Each one is assigned a feminine stereotype.

As Cady begins to spy on and sabotage the Plastics, we watch her appearance shift in real time. She starts wearing hair extensions, makeup, perfume, pastel colors, and short skirts, visually transforming into the kind of girl the film taught us to distrust. And this isn’t unique to Cady. Regina’s arc mirrors hers in reverse. At the start of the film, when she’s the queen bee, her look is peak hyper-femininity: pink everything, low-cut tops, stilettos. But once Cady's plan takes effect, she gains weight, loses social capital, and becomes isolated, her aesthetic shifts. Suddenly she’s in gym clothes and sneakers, blending in instead of standing out.

In Mean Girls, power is styled. Femininity is both a costume and a warning sign. When a character spirals into immorality, she dresses like Regina. When she’s powerless, she looks like everyone else. Why does Hollywood do this? Because feminine power is threatening. Hyper-femininity, when wielded unapologetically, is hard to control, and that makes it dangerous in the eyes of a patriarchal lens. Regina George rules the school in heels, lip gloss, and with an entire wardrobe of pastel weaponry. And that’s the problem.  

Hollywood’s been teaching us for years that the girl who wears confidence as a second skin is not to be trusted. Her power is always aesthetic, never moral. And because she dares to use what she’s been given, beauty, sex appeal, confidence. she must be punished for it. There are only two options: either you are pretty and popular or you are good and smart, but you can't have it all. There’s no way to please the masses, really.