The phoenix-like rise of the 00’s camp icon
By: Andrea Nazarian
“People always tell me, 'Reinvent yourself, re-this, re-whatever.' I haven't reinvented myself. It's an honest evolution. I've always been authentic.”
Words of the great Pamela Anderson - the supreme bombshell whose unapologetic authenticity has brought her back into the spotlight, brighter and blonder than ever.
We’re in the midst of a Pamaissance. Hot off the tails of a Proenza Schouler SS24 campaign, her own Netflix documentary, a juicy memoir and a slew of gorgeous makeup-free PFW appearances, sweet Vancouver Island gal Pammy is thriving.
Pam’s Gen-Z popularity speaks to a broader cultural shift taking place around us. We’ve entered an era that celebrates the same women who were once brutally mocked by judgmental tabloids for their larger-than-life auras, bold fits and unbothered energy.
Their comeback stories are phenomenal. Pam and other camp icons like Paris Hilton and Carmen Electra went from being labeled “bimbo” “trashy” or “ditsy” in the 00’s to booking global modeling contracts with top brands and fashion houses, making premium red carpet appearances and - most valuable of all - cementing their icon status in the 2020’s zeitgeist, unironically.
It’s about damn time.
Why “camp” icon? The term is often linked to an aesthetic of deliberate exaggeration, theatricality, irony, and a celebration of the artificial. The Met Gala based its 2019 “Camp” theme on Susan Sontag’s seminal “Notes on Camp” essay.
Sontag writes “Indeed the essence of Camp is its love of the unnatural: of artífice and exaggeration. And Camp is esoteric - something of a private code, a badge of identity even, among small urban cliques.”
Think Pam’s fuzzy pink pimp hat at the 1999 VMAs. Paris’ velour tracksuits accessorized with a giant chrome LV or her tiny chihuahua. Carmen’s horny yet charming 2004 reality show devoted to her short-lived marriage to guitarist Dave Navarro.
It’s exaggerated. It’s artificial. It’s over-the-top and it’s fucking fabulous. The girls have BEEN giving camp, babe.
What makes it camp and not cringe is their self awareness. Never taking themselves too seriously and maintaining precise control of their brand in spite of the odds, there’s a reason why the kids and creative directors are coming back to these titans.
Authenticity is the most important value for Gen Z, who consume nearly the entirety of their media through social platforms. Gone are the days where grocery-store tabloid mags or toxic celebrity culture websites primarily shaped our view of these people and their values.
I’m not saying social platforms are spaces for pure truth or 100% authentic expression. But they have democratized access to famous people, critical thinkers, and intersectional discourse around pop and celebrity culture. This bottomless well of opinions is what brands and outlets look to for who’s in and who’s out.
The TikTokers analyze the context around celebrity antics in a way print or Web 1.0 never did. It helps us humanize celebs and understand why they chose to wear, say, and do what they did in their heyday.
We’ll never truly know who famous people are or what they stand for. But we can smell bullshit and fakery a lot easier than we used to. For the most part, Pam, Paris and Carmen have stayed true to themselves throughout their careers, and their newfound relevancy is a case of real recognizing real.