By sTACY LEE KONG

Usually at the end of the year, I look back at the previous 12 months in pop culture, especially the big moments that, for a variety of reasons, I didn’t write about. But this year, I’m more interested in looking ahead. I don’t know if it’s just me, but it feels like we’re in the middle of a pop-culture inflection point, and I’m really interested in thinking about how bigger social, political and cultural shifts are going to manifest in celebrity culture, entertainment and online social spaces in 2025. I mean… popular PR strategies and image construction approaches no longer land the same way with audiences, but I’m not sure that celebrities realize that just yet. Entertainment conglomerates are obviously disengaging from ‘progressive’ storylines. Capitalism and conservatism are sneakily colliding in TikTok trends, which helps shape our perceptions of femininity, masculinity, relationships and community in frankly dangerous ways. Of course, these things aren’t necessarily new for the coming year. And yes, some of them are just my personal areas of interest (so: less of a prediction of what will be popping off and more a promise that you’ll be hearing more about it, no matter what, I guess 😂). But there are a few things that I really do keep seeing over and over again, and that I think will only keep bubbling up. So, let’s talk about them.

Class consciousness is in, and corporations are not going to like it

As University of Madrid professor Jesus de Felipe-Redondo explained in the International Encyclopedia of the Social & Behavioral Sciences, “the term ‘class consciousness’ represents two different, but related, concepts. The first one refers to the awareness that the members of a social class, usually the working class, have of their common class interests (what is called the ‘principle of class identity’). These shared interests are considered to be opposed to those of other classes, especially the bourgeois class (the ‘principle of class opposition’). Awareness of this antagonism makes workers fight to end class conflict by transforming social organization. This final goal leads to identification of class consciousness with socialist (particularly Marxist) aspirations that provide a general vision of a classless society (the ‘principle of totality’).”

Class consciousness is not a novel idea, of course, and I’m not actually trying to position a sociological term that emerged in the 19th century, to describe a phenomenon that has been happening forever, as a trend. But, one of the hallmarks of contemporary Western society is that we actually haven’t felt a sense of class consciousness in recent years; a key part of our economic and political reality is the idea that we will eventually transcend our class positionality, which encourages many people to spend, vote and frankly think in ways that benefit upper classes, often to their own detriment. The thing is, it’s becoming harder and harder to make a decent living, afford dignified housing or live a good (or dare I say, soft?) life, while simultaneously becoming more and more obvious that the billionaire class is benefiting from our exploitation. Hence: a new wave of class consciousness.

I wrote about this a little bit last year; I definitely still think that a major reason why so many people have been paying such close attention to Israel’s genocide of Palestinians is because they have first-hand experience with the ways inequity impacts their own lives, which makes it easier to empathize with others. But the more recent example is definitely the internet’s support for Luigi Mangione, who has become something of a folk hero after he was arrested for allegedly fatally shooting UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson. It has been fascinating to see how many pundits are genuinely baffled about how so many people could support someone who they think killed a person ‘in cold blood,’ but to me the answer is kind of obvious: they see his alleged crime as justified.

In The New Yorker this week, writer Jessica Winter connects Mangione’s popularity with the very American archetype of the outlaw-hero. She points to Richard E. Meyer, a scholar of American folklore, who distinguished between criminals and outlaws. “He wrote that ‘the American outlaw-hero is a ‘man of the people’; he is closely identified with the common people, and, as such, is generally seen to stand in opposition to certain established oppressive economic, civil and legal systems peculiar to the American historical experience,’” she explains. “To remain in good standing as an outlaw-hero, a man’s crimes must ‘be directed only toward those visible symbols which stand outside of and are thought of as oppressive toward the folk group,’ Meyer writes. In exchange for both his audacity and his discretion, ‘the outlaw-hero is helped, supported and admired by his people.’” She notes that Mangione doesn’t perfectly fit this archetype (generally, outlaws are on the run for a lot longer than five days, and redistribution of wealth tends to be a big part of their activities) but in other ways, he absolutely does fit into Meyer’s definition of an outlaw-hero.

So. I think that much like (what appears to be) rising awareness of, and support for, labour rights, pro-Mangione social media posts are actually about signalling desire for a more equitable distribution of assets in our society and, I’d argue, a rejection of the idea that a white, Western man’s life is inherently valuable in a way that racialized, disabled, poor, female, non-binary people’s lives are not. Particularly if those people belong to a marginalized group that is scapegoated by Western powers—like, say, Palestinians.

I will say, while I do think these motivations are not that difficult to wrap your head around, I do acknowledge that it’s quite a big shift for people to recognize what is actually being communicated when capitalists say “violence is never the answer”—it doesn’t take some kind of esoteric knowledge to understand that Thompson was shot and killed in retribution for the acts of violence his company committed every day, ones that literally killed people, or that there is a subset of the population that is no longer willing to entertain the idea that these two types of violence are philosophically different.

Also, not necessarily about class consciousness, but there’s definitely a conversation to be had about how often the NYPD provides the exact material required to further entrench Mangione’s status as a folk hero. Like… have you seen all of these extremely true tweets about his much-photographed perp walk??? So if someone wants to write an essay on the semiotics of his post-arrest photos, I want to read it!

The politics of smell

So, I’m obsessed with Dr. Ally Louks, the Cambridge prof whose PhD thesis on olfactory oppression in modern and contemporary literature went ultra-viral last month. In more accessible language, her research “studies how certain authors of the past century used smell in literature to indicate social hostilities, such as prejudice and exploitation. It also connects this to our real-world understanding of the role the sense plays in society [and suggests] that smell very often invokes identity in a way that is meant to convey an individual’s worth and status. In Parasite, for instance, a working-class man overhears his employer say that his ‘smell crosses the line,’ which the director describes as a moment when ‘the basic respect you have for another human being is being shattered.’”

I think a lot of us intimately understand how dominant groups can wield the prospect of smelling ‘bad’ against us. We’ve all seen people attribute or assume that particular groups stink, and if we belong to one of those groups, it definitely shapes our approach to hygiene. (Even though the idea that some people just inherently smell bad is false, obviously; what’s more, the dominant culture that creates and upholds these stereotypes aren’t doing so accidentally. In fact, a 2020 book by University of South Carolina history prof Andrew Kettler explains that Europeans engaged in ‘olfactory racism’ to craft a “false narrative of difference” that literally served to justify slavery.)

I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, especially in the context of celebrity and social media hygiene discourse, which pops up on my timelines with an almost comforting predictability. But Louks’ research, and the discourse around it, have crystallized some connections even for me. It doesn’t hurt that basically every day since her tweet took over my timeline, either she or someone else has posted something about the way we perceive smell and how that’s linked to wider societal ideas about class, gender, race, ability, body size, etc. (See: this Cardi B tweet, @dieworkwear’s recent fragrance X thread, the people who think Bridgerton’s Kate Sharma smells, and probably like, 32 others that I didn’t favourite.)

But, I think fragrance and scent in general will be more prominent in the coming year. I’ve been seeing a lot more commentary about perfume on my timelines, especially recommendations for niche, super expensive scents from IYKYK brands (I liked this tweet so fast, you guys). I recently learned (belatedly, I admit) who Jeremy Fragrance is, and the word ‘smellmaxxing,’ which describes the trend of teen and even pre-teen boys eschewing Axe body spray in favour of luxury colognes from the likes of Tom Ford, Valentino and Armani. And, one of my all-time favourite beauty writers, Jessica DeFino, says fragrance is going to be the beauty product of 2025. Her argument is that “it stimulates the brain but bypasses logical thought (scent hits limbic system/skips thalamus) [so it’s] as close as it gets to mass-producing/purchasing memories & emotions” and yes, that makes a lot of sense. In fact, to her point, over the summer the Washington Post reported that “fragrance is the fastest-growing category in the prestige beauty sector, with sales climbing 13 percent in the first quarter.” The paper noted that one factor in this growth is a desire to use fragrance as a form of creative self-expression, instead of having one signature scent.

I do wonder if there’s something else going on, though. Like… is this growing interest in fragrance somehow connected to the way minimalist, ‘natural’ beauty is trending, as we discussed a couple of weeks ago? Obviously perfume is not a natural smell, but the way we talk about scent does often feel like something personal and intrinsic, rather than a consumer choice. For example—and it is possibly stan behaviour that I know this, but here we are—part of Rihanna’s ‘star text’ is that she smells really good, which I love but also think is kind of funny, because it’s not like that’s an expression of her genetic code as much as it’s just, you know, access to water, soap and perfume. So, if there is some kind of subconscious connection between how we smell and the idea of biological advantage, is that another correlation with rising fascism? I don’t know the answers to those questions, but I feel pretty confident that I’ll be thinking more about them in the coming year.

Entertainment’s unsurprising, but still annoying, rightward swing

I feel like we’re seeing the entertainment industry pull back from progressivism in so many ways: Disney recently removed a trans storyline from the upcoming Win or Lose, an animated streaming series about a co-ed middle school softball team. According to The Hollywood Reporter, which broke the news, the character remains in the show, but the studio has removed “a few” lines from dialogue that reference their gender identity. Per a Disney spokesperson: “When it comes to animated content for a younger audience, we recognize that many parents would prefer to discuss certain subjects with their children on their own terms and timeline.” (Don’t worry, dead parents, are a-okay though.) Celebrities are slowly rolling out their support for ultra-conservative megalomaniacs. (See: Nick Jonas, the Kardashians.) This week, Vanity Fair published a reported feature investigating what it positions as the “death” of DEI programs—not to mention jobs for racialized people, and projects by, for and about communities of colour—throughout Hollywood, which the mag attributed to a variety of factors, from overall economic and specifically post-strike uncertainty, to the chilling effect of the U.S. Supreme Court’s decision to overturn affirmative action in post-secondary admissions, to good old racial bias and inertia among senior leaders.    

Even the way Variety covered UCLA’s 2024 Diversity Report feels weird. The pub’s social sell was very straightforward: “UCLA Diversity Report Finds White Men Dominate Most-Watched Streaming Shows As Lead Actors, Series Creators.” But the report’s findings were more nuanced than that. As screenwriter and director Caroline Renard flagged, “other key findings indicated that showrunners, creators and lead actors across television tend to be predominantly white and male. However, data shows that top streaming shows with BIPOC leads consistently outperform others in regards to median ratings and series following. ‘Underrepresented stories’ also rank higher in ratings… According to the report, streaming audiences have a desire for diverse stories and female viewers are a significant force in regards to total viewership. The study indicated that women overindexed in regards to nine of the top 10 shows ranked by both.” That’s… quite different from how Variety (an industry-specific trade publication that—you’d think—would be invested in accurately assessing the industry it covers) chose to summarize the report.

This is not great news, considering all the infringements on human rights and bodily autonomy that we’ve seen over the past three years, or the fact that the technological framework of our society has been designed to isolate us, discourage community and also inundate us with problematic ideas about race, gender, our own bodies, what we owe other people, etc. etc. But, I think it’s useful to remember that this is not unprecedented. In 2018 and 2019, I distinctly remember having conversations with my colleagues at Flare about how it felt like there had been a pendulum swing away from covering oppression, racial or otherwise, though obviously the pendulum swung back in 2020. And, as Halima Jibril wrote in Dazed recently, “Susan Faludi observed in her 1991 feminist classic, Backlash: The Undeclared War Against American Women, [that] societal backlash often follows periods of progress. Just as Faludi’s Backlash critiqued the media-driven resistance to feminist gains in the 1970s, today’s backlash against ‘wokeness’ reflects resistance to the progressivism of the 2010s.”

And I think at least one way to deflate the backlash is to keep having these conversations—which I’m excited to do with you in 2025. For now, though, I hope you have a restful holiday season with so much good food and very low screentime. I’ll see you on the other side ❤️

And Did You Hear About…

(P.S., starting in January, And Did You Hear About links will be behind a paywall! But, if you’d like to keep getting these curated recommendations—and support the work I do with Friday Things—I’m running a 25% off sale until Jan. 10.)

My new favourite holiday tradition: Nutcracker ballet rat content.

Vulture’s Alex E. Jung on Brian Jordan Alvarez, and his one-time friend and collaborator Jon Ebeling’s allegations that Alvarez sexually assaulted him.

The most iconic video of the week.

This thoughtful, honest—but not salacious—essay about divorce, privacy and how we are perceived by others and ourselves by Lilly Jay, a clinical psychologist and the ex-wife of Ethan Slater (who is perhaps better known as Ariana Grande’s boyfriend).

Doechii and Issa Rae performing “Denial is a River.”

Variety’s article on the week’s Anora intimacy coordinator discourse.

Thank you for reading this week’s newsletter! Still looking for intersectional pop culture analysis? Here are a few ways to get more Friday:

💫 Upgrade to a paid subscription to support independent, progressive lifestyle media, and to access member-only perks. (Note: paid subscribers can manage, update and cancel their subscriptions through Stripe.)

💫 Follow Friday on social media. We’re on Instagram, YouTube and (occasionally) TikTok.

💫 If you’d like to make a one-time donation toward the cost of creating Friday Things, you can donate through Ko-Fi.