On Neo-Catholocism, Sex Negativity, and... Brandy Melville?

I got my first taste of martyrdom at the ripe age of eight, when I sacrificed what would have been a carefree Sunday morning to make my first Communion. I'd spent every Wednesday of the past year in a stuffy classroom in the basement of my town's church, where all the other public school heretics were sent to learn the word of the lord. I was the only one in my class who knew the Act of Contrition by heart, and when I recited it to my teacher, she awarded me with a plastic rosary and the opportunity to bask in my own piety. In the spring, I drove down to the South Shore with my mom, where a shop owner with a Brooklyn accent fitted me in white gowns and veils. I chose a dress with beading on the bodice, because it reminded me of the rosary I now kept safely in my desk drawer. I don't remember much of the sacrament itself, besides the underwhelming blandness of the wafer. (I was expecting bread!) That evening, my family celebrated at a restaurant in town. My grandmother brought a cake that read God bless Claire. Luckily, I had changed out of my gown at this point, because that cake ended up on the front of my pink Gap dress. I ran around the restaurant with my cousins and made napkin swans at the table. When I think of my communion, the first thing I remember is still the swans.

I was lucky enough that my family wasn't one of those weird Fundamentalist ones with 10 kids and a vendetta against Planned Parenthood. To me, faith just meant one night a week in the church basement, and the occasional prayer when I was losing in MarioKart. I no longer considered myself religious by the time I entered middle school—perhaps the most blasphemous place since Dante's Inferno. For much of my life post-napkin swans and rosaries, I've held beliefs that are vaguely anti-Catholic. I never felt as though the church heeded my political views on things like abortion and gay marriage, and therefore deemed religion unworthy of my time. I think it's completely natural to outgrow the religion you were raised into. Most young people, even the ones with rosaries in their desks, can't grasp the meaning of faith. It's a concept so abstract and vast that even most adults have trouble reckoning with it. For me, Catholicism wasn't something I was actually passionate about; It rarely entered my mind outside of the classroom I learned about it in. 

Yet, there's a sort of mutual camaraderie that exists around children who were raised Catholic. Like patriotism, Trisha Paytas, and the films of Woody Allen, Catholicism exists on the thin line between the compelling and the problematic. Left leaning people tend to approach it with caution, as if treating religion with anything other than indifference will automatically endorse the fucked up ideals perpetuated by the church. But when my mom hangs a cross on her bedroom wall or offers me holy water before a big test, I am reminded that faith is still a very sacred thing. 

And now, elements of Catholicism have been snaking their way back into popular culture. But instead of the good shepherd we are used to, the movement is ushered in by prophets like Lana del Rey and Dasha Nekrasova, who have an army of Brandy Melville-clad lambs in their wake. It's hard to pinpoint exactly when this crusade began—possible culprits include Vivienne Westwood's renaissance corsets in the 90's, or 2018's "Heavenly Bodies" Met Gala theme. A more cynical person might point out the rise of reactionary politics that have cropped up from the corny neoliberalism of the 2010s. It's equally unclear whether the shift began on an aesthetic or political front—What came first? The coquette chicken or the Neo-Catholic egg? By now, we've all heard the theory that heels rise as the stock market plummets, or rather, that society gets more flamboyant when the economy is worse. But now, as we enter a post-pandemic recession, it seems as though puritanism is the single element of rebellion we have yet to explore.

Michelle Goldberg's 2021 article on sex negativity for the New York Times was the first marker of this shift that I became aware of. Goldberg argues that sex positivity was once a very effective facet of feminism. In an era when women were taught to condemn any overt sexuality, the participation in free sex was rebellious and subversive. Now, however, in the age of OnlyFans and Call Her Daddy's you're just a hole hookup culture, young women are taught to "liberate" themselves through the exploitation of their own bodies. Now hold on! Before you call me a prude, I want to make it clear that there is nothing wrong with engaging in free, consensual sex. But when girls feel obliged to remove their emotions from sex, develop kinks they do not have, or base their self esteem on their own sexualization, the purpose of the movement changes from women's rights to male gratification. As Goldberg puts it, "feminism is supposed to ease some of the dissonance between what women want and what they feel they’re supposed to want. Sex-positive feminism was able to do that for women who felt hemmed in by sexual taboos and pressured to deny their own turn-ons. But today it seems less relevant to women who feel brutalized by the expectation that they’ll be open to anything."

This idea is explored further by Substack's own Default Friend, who, last March, created a list of predictions for the societal shift towards sex negativity, including criticism of plastic surgery, more exposés on sex work, and "reactionary childbearing". I find Default Friend's take particularly interesting because it speaks to a larger trend of traditionalism in the media. Thanks to the ever-obscuring effects of the internet, the word traditional has garnered a myriad of meanings beyond its original definition. Some internet circles use it to describe gender roles and religious ideals à la Girl Defined. To others, the traditional is more arbitrary; It means listening to edgelord podcasts like Red Scare, wearing pearl jewelry, or posting Whisper App memes on Twitter. It's hard to tell what shape traditionalism will take when it ultimately permeates the public consciousness, but both iterations are already circulating the web.

By now, you're probably thinking, Why though? Isn't traditionalism, like, the lamest, most counterintuitive form of liberation? Well, yes. But I think it goes deeper than that.

For better or worse, today's culture is heavily steeped in hedonist ideals. Developments like social media and online shopping have taught us to expect gratification with the click of a button. Previous subcultures that have disrupted the zeitgeist have been capitalized on themselves, leaving materialism as our only true god. Like Socrates famously argues, material desire will never truly bring satisfaction, so it makes sense for us to turn to asceticism, in the hopes that a simple life might quiet things down. I don't think it's discussed enough how tiring capitalism truly is. We live in a world that is constantly shoving things down our throats. Nearly every pursuit of pleasure is doused in advertising, so it makes sense that we are rebuking biblical sins—lust, sloth, greed—because they are also the pillars on which modern life functions. 

Now, I'd be a fool if I assumed all of this was done in earnest. Being a fan of some Neo-Catholic things myself, I can attest to the fact that both irony and nostalgia have a heavy hand in the trend. It's understandable for this aesthetic to appeal to kids like me, who understand and appreciate its references, yet are hesitant to commit to faith itself. Sure, it's a little half-assed, and definitely cringeworthy at times, but I don't think Gen-Z is quite ready to engage in something as vulnerable, earnest, and uncool as religion. I'd go as far as to say that the element of cynicism that accompanies Neo-Catholocism speaks to a larger attitude of detachment held by many kids my age. Whatever it is, it's easy to see that Catholicism now has an edge of sorts. All the aspects of religion that were once wildly unappealing—martyrdom, asceticism, even priests (thanks, Fleabag)—now feel transgressive, sexy even.

With a foundation so heavily rooted in fatigue, is it possible for this Neo-Catholic wave to survive? Or will these age-old temptations once again triumph in our culture? Call me a non-believer, but the answer became pretty clear to me when I saw Catholic school girls taking to Depop to sell confessionals, flooding the tags with #lolita, #coquette, and #redscarepod. Perhaps we need a Neo-Martin Luther to reform this shitshow. 

To close this entry out, I've included a list of things to aid you in your Neo-Catholic journey. Consider these 5 commandments as your guide until you reach the pearly gates—or intellectual wasteland—whatever comes first.

1. Honor thy mothers. 

Idolatry is no longer a sin in Catholicism's modern iteration. Whether it's Lana del Rey, Dasha Nekrasova, or Ethel Cain, trad girls will jump at the opportunity to worship their favorite mediocre white girl. When said white girls are canonized in the trad-girl Twitterverse, you can expect their faces plastered on incoherent memes, terribly screen printed slip dresses, and Spotify playlists titled, "I’m just like her fr."

2. Thou shall covet the most heinous clothes.

Yes, even Neo-Catholics are fashion victims. The girls are going crazy for pieces most people could find in their grandmother's closet. Brandy Melville is the tried and true classic; It's been garnering a cult following for years at this point. But if you're willing to splurge, Vive Maria and Praying take the repressed nun vibes a step further. Sad you can't afford the classic God's Favorite tee? Just skim on your collections for a few weeks!

3. Thou shall not bear false witness against your neighbor—unless you're a Lisbon sister.

Sofia Coppola's 1994 film, The Virgin Suicides, is a staple of Neo-Catholic culture. Jeffery Eugenides' novel came first, but Coppola has a knack for nailing tortured femininity. Even when demonstrating the horrible restrictions of religion, the Lisbon sisters have a glamorous edge to them—you can't help wanting to be Lux.

4. Thou shall not steal—but Depop markups are okay.

Depop is the reselling hub for any girl who has ever described herself as having Lolita vibes but minus the problematic part. All the brands I mentioned before—Brandy, Praying, Vive Maria—all resell at the craziest markups. And any piece under the tags, "Catholic," "coquette," or "trad" are automatically bumped up 50% above their market value. Whatever happened to money being the root of all evil?

5. Thou shall keep Neo-Catholicism unholy.

Perhaps the most essential aspect of this trend is the plausible deniability it requires. Like I've mentioned a million times before, this trad wave is steeped in irony and cynicism. It is imperative, though definitely sacrilegious to have a humorous buffer between yourself and this identity. God forbid you come off as genuine...

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