Coquette aesthetic: empowering femininity or reinforcing gendered stereotypes?

Who knew a little bow would cause so much backlash? The patriarchy called, it yearns for control. 

Photo: Jessa/Pinterest

By definition, the French word ‘coquette’ is ‘a flirtatious woman.’ Traditionally, it therefore refers to a woman who is charming, playful and flirtatious – someone who wields femininity like a weapon. In fashion and pop culture, the coquette aesthetic has evolved into a hyper-feminine style that’s part vintage sweetheart and part Tumblr-core. Think: bows, lace, frills, ballet flats, baby pinks, pastels, pearls, corsets and silky camisoles. On the surface it looks soft, frivolous and delicate, but to what end? What is it hiding? Let’s dive into the drama to find out. 

Picture this: ribbons, ruffles, flushed cheeks, lace trim, and pink pastels. From Tiktok’s trends to the high fashion catwalks of Miu Miu, Simone Rocha, and Andewrson’s Dior, the coquette aesthetic has made a fierce comeback. But let’s not get it twisted – this isn’t just about bows and baby-doll dresses. The question is: is the coquette trend a clever reclamation of femininity, or just another sugar-coated cage reinforcing old-school gender roles? 

Breaking news: style meets scandal, again. 

Historically, the coquette was anything but coy. Born out of 18th century French salons, she was power dressed in pastels. Now, we are seeing her reincarnated on runways – with Dior’s rebellion under Jonathan Andewrson. 

Society has deemed the coquette aesthetic a submission to patriarchy – all bows, ruffles, and pink hues – but pause the pearl-clutching for a moment. Is hyper-femininity inherently submissive, or is that just the male gaze projecting its fantasies? The idea that softness signals weakness says more about our cultural biases than it does about the girls donning puff sleeves and lip gloss. 

Photo: Horror Movies/Pinterest

Take Stanley Kubrick’s 1980 The Shining. Wendy Torrance, dismissed as a “screaming dish rag” by Stephen King himself, echoing the widespread sentiment that she is weak and insufferable, is often seen as pathetic for crying, staying, or not fighting back hard enough. But Kubrick? He knew exactly what he was doing. His portrayal of Wendy subverts traditional female archetypes, exposing the audience’s own ingrained misogyny and forcing viewers to confront it. Unlike the stereotypical heroine, whose worth is often dictated by her beauty and desirability, Wendy is presented as an unglamorous, ordinary woman who does not cater to societal expectations of femininity. Wendy isn’t rocking a baby pink slip, but her quiet demeanor and her pinafore made her a lighting rod for misogynistic backlash. Her floppy, unassuming pinafore and unsexy normalcy, are not signs of weakness but rather a rejection of cinematic desirability and overt sex appeal. Kubrick’s point was brutal: the audience wanted her to be more palatable, and when she wasn’t, we turned on her. And isn’t that kind of the same with the coquette? When a woman embraces femininity – whether that’s silky bows, ruffles or “emotional softness” – society reads it as submissive, silly, and regressive. The aesthetic gets framed as conforming to the male gaze. But what if it’s not? What if it’s a performance? A trap, even? Much like the coquette girl, who is often mistaken for ornamental when she’s actually playing the whole damn game. Femininity isn’t submission, it’s strategy. So ask yourself: is the coquette girl submitting, or are you just underestimating her?

Visual cues like the growing ash on Wendy’s cigarette mirror her internalised struggle, while the camera’s harsh zoom on her terror-stricken face forces sympathy and challenges the viewers to recognise their own biases. In this way, Wendy becomes not just a victim of Jack’s abuse but also of the audience’s own prejudices and misogyny. With Wendy’s intentional disregard for what they want her to be, the audience perceive her as deserving of abuse. In the same way coquette aesthetic might fool some into thinking it conforms to a patriarchal ideal of the fragile, weak and domesticated woman, when in fact, it carries a not-so-subtle streak of satire. This hyper-femininity isn’t a surrender to the male gaze but a reclamation of the very traits patriarchy tried to weaponize and to taint. And, those who see it as mere conformity are epitomising their own internalised misogyny, simply viewing femininity through the warped lens of the male gaze. If you see submission, maybe it’s not the aesthetic that’s outdated, maybe it’s your lens. If this is submission, why does it feel like control?

Coquette girls are labelled as weak but they aren’t naïve. There’s a line between indulging in girlhood and satirizing the way patriarchy fetishizes it – and the coquette aesthetic walks it in kitten heels. It’s purposely hyper-feminine. Which is exactly why it’s so uncomfortable for a culture that still equates softness with weakness.

Just because she’s in pastels doesn’t mean she’s playing nice. Hyperfemininity called. It’s reclaiming the narrative. 

But let’s not ignore the data. Google Trends shows that searches for “coquette” have dipped 43.75% since last June with the search term popularity having an index of 80 on June 10 2024, and now on June 1 2025 the search term has an index of around 45. On Pinterest, it's worse — down 63.64%. The search term popularity had an index of 88 on June 10 2024, and now on June 1 2025 the search term has an index of around 32.

Photo: Vicki/Pinterest

Even bows have slumped 50% since December 29 2024 with the search term popularity having an index of 100 on December 29 2024, and now on June 1 2025 the search term has an index of 50. 

So the question is… are we ditching femininity again? Are we slipping back into baggy, grey, and ‘clean girl’ coldness because hyperfemininity made us feel too exposed? Or, plot twist, is this just the coquette’s disappearing act before her next glamorous return? Is the decrease in popularity correlated to society straying away from femininity and moving towards a more masculine culture?

Either way, one thing’s clear: the coquette is never just a look. It’s a statement. The only question is – are you in on the joke?