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Willa Ford - I Wanna Be Bad
Sunbelt Siren
posted January 5, 2025
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This Fashion Subgenre took me on a bit of an adventure.
I had a vague sense of where I wanted to go next: Americana, vintage, country—but filtered through heat and humidity. It’s something I’ve seen resurfacing in the past few years, though it’s canonically late-’90s to mid-2000s. Back when people mocked Britney Spears for everything. Especially the Louisiana-coded paparazzi shots at gas stations. How dare she be a rich and famous celebrity and walk around like she’s a normal person. Of course, twenty years later, her outfits are pretty on-trend. Pinterest is full of boards titled “🍒Trailer Park Princess 🌺,” populated with purposely low-res images of women in beer can hair rollers and posing with rifles. And although I find that all a bit contrived, I can also appreciate the evocative imagery: driving on the interstate in the middle of nowhere as the sun sets, mid-century neon signs, baby tees in shades of girly pink.
The Sunbelt Siren is geographically specific: Florida and the surrounding states, away from urban centers and master-planned suburbs, in places where dirt roads still exist and HOAs don’t. Family structures tend to be either tightly bound or something she’s actively distancing herself from, but either way, they’ve left an indelible mark on her personality. Maybe one or more of them do not get along with her boyfriend, who is chiseled, tatted, and may or may not have a chin strap. Her signature scent is a mixture of nicotine and Victoria’s Secret body spray, and her car is outfitted with a fuzzy pink steering wheel cover and an array of cigarette burns.
Lana Del Rey’s turn as Lizzy Grant exemplifies the Sunbelt Siren, or at least a somewhat performative version of her, with haphazardly-bleached hair, the secondhand varsity jackets, and the stars-and-stripes motif. In a lot of ways, she nails it, but it still reads as more of a persona than a natural identity. A more recent iteration would be Ethel Cain’s bucolic, liminal take, which can sometimes read a little more fundamentalist and subversive. There is an emphasis on domesticity without the constraints of traditional motherhood—not the fantasy of ‘50s housewives with docile children, but the family environment and the physical structure of the home itself. How identity comes from place, from home, whatever that may look like.
Cowgirl Clue living out her Sunbelt Siren fantasy with a 1 megapixel photo taken in a truckstop parking lot.
High school was a breeze—she was popular, maybe even a cheerleader, but at the very least, a “Regulation Hottie.” She didn’t run the mile in gym class. She walked it while wearing sweatpants and gossiping with her friend. It’s not like she got straight-As, she just knew she would be taking a career path that wasn’t necessarily academically-focused. As an avid watcher of E!’s The Girls Next Door, she’s envisioned a future where she’s involved in either cosmetology, dancing, or Playboy modeling—something equally glamorous and attainable. She always knew she was destined for something greater than the sticks.
Don’t be fooled by revivalists jacking up prices on the obvious brands like Von Dutch and Ed Hardy. Besides, they’re Sunbelt Siren aspirational but too overpriced. The whole ethos lends itself to curating selections from obscure, era-appropriate items. Lean towards department store Juniors-y brands: Candies, l.e.i., Mudd. Bebe skews a little too suburban shopping mall. It’s generally easy and inexpensive to find vintage Sturgis Motorcycle Rally tees or rhinestone-encrusted Playboy halter tops. Silhouettes include lots of camisoles/tank tops, tight, low-cut flared jeans, bare midriffs, short shorts. Bleached hair piled high in a messy bun or with curvy face-framing layers, sometimes with contrasting lowlights.
I had a vague sense of where I wanted to go next: Americana, vintage, country—but filtered through heat and humidity. It’s something I’ve seen resurfacing in the past few years, though it’s canonically late-’90s to mid-2000s. Back when people mocked Britney Spears for everything. Especially the Louisiana-coded paparazzi shots at gas stations. How dare she be a rich and famous celebrity and walk around like she’s a normal person. Of course, twenty years later, her outfits are pretty on-trend. Pinterest is full of boards titled “🍒Trailer Park Princess 🌺,” populated with purposely low-res images of women in beer can hair rollers and posing with rifles. And although I find that all a bit contrived, I can also appreciate the evocative imagery: driving on the interstate in the middle of nowhere as the sun sets, mid-century neon signs, baby tees in shades of girly pink.
The Sunbelt Siren is geographically specific: Florida and the surrounding states, away from urban centers and master-planned suburbs, in places where dirt roads still exist and HOAs don’t. Family structures tend to be either tightly bound or something she’s actively distancing herself from, but either way, they’ve left an indelible mark on her personality. Maybe one or more of them do not get along with her boyfriend, who is chiseled, tatted, and may or may not have a chin strap. Her signature scent is a mixture of nicotine and Victoria’s Secret body spray, and her car is outfitted with a fuzzy pink steering wheel cover and an array of cigarette burns.
Lana Del Rey’s turn as Lizzy Grant exemplifies the Sunbelt Siren, or at least a somewhat performative version of her, with haphazardly-bleached hair, the secondhand varsity jackets, and the stars-and-stripes motif. In a lot of ways, she nails it, but it still reads as more of a persona than a natural identity. A more recent iteration would be Ethel Cain’s bucolic, liminal take, which can sometimes read a little more fundamentalist and subversive. There is an emphasis on domesticity without the constraints of traditional motherhood—not the fantasy of ‘50s housewives with docile children, but the family environment and the physical structure of the home itself. How identity comes from place, from home, whatever that may look like.
High school was a breeze—she was popular, maybe even a cheerleader, but at the very least, a “Regulation Hottie.” She didn’t run the mile in gym class. She walked it while wearing sweatpants and gossiping with her friend. It’s not like she got straight-As, she just knew she would be taking a career path that wasn’t necessarily academically-focused. As an avid watcher of E!’s The Girls Next Door, she’s envisioned a future where she’s involved in either cosmetology, dancing, or Playboy modeling—something equally glamorous and attainable. She always knew she was destined for something greater than the sticks.
Muses: Britney Spears, Anna Nicole Smith, Jaime Pressly
Don’t be fooled by revivalists jacking up prices on the obvious brands like Von Dutch and Ed Hardy. Besides, they’re Sunbelt Siren aspirational but too overpriced. The whole ethos lends itself to curating selections from obscure, era-appropriate items. Lean towards department store Juniors-y brands: Candies, l.e.i., Mudd. Bebe skews a little too suburban shopping mall. It’s generally easy and inexpensive to find vintage Sturgis Motorcycle Rally tees or rhinestone-encrusted Playboy halter tops. Silhouettes include lots of camisoles/tank tops, tight, low-cut flared jeans, bare midriffs, short shorts. Bleached hair piled high in a messy bun or with curvy face-framing layers, sometimes with contrasting lowlights.
I wasn’t interested in discussing the Sunbelt Siren as a punchline or a Pinterest board. She doesn’t dress for irony or subversion—she dresses for herself. Her fashion sense isn’t nostalgia or performance; it’s the confluence of affordable, comfortable, and sexy. She may be wearing something revealing, but there’s never a layer of insecurity or desperation about it—she could be wearing this outfit alone or at the dive bar. As an admittedly voyeuristic suburban Michigander, I can’t say that it’s something I had familiarity with growing up. For starters, the sun does not reach Michigan. But I do have a penchant for cross-country road trips, imagining what it’s like to grow up in towns I pass, staying in random motels with neon signage. I’ll always remember turning on the radio as I drove through Texas and immediately hearing “God Blessed Texas” by Little Texas. It was probably the closest I’d ever get to really feeling my inner Sunbelt Siren. And it felt amazing.
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