It’s hardly breaking news, people: Sex sells and Sabrina’s a savvy vendor

In case you’ve been living under a rock while the world quite literally blows up around us, for reasons unbeknownst we are still talking about Sabrina Carpenter, the “woman who ruled most of 2025”.

If you need me to fill in the gaps, she’s that pint-sized ex-Disney princess producing earworms and pornographically suggestive album covers where she’s crouching on all fours in front of a man who’s grabbing her hair (and please give me the number of whoever designed the cave you’re living in).

In fact, there was so much hoo-ha around the aforementioned album cover, she’s released an alternative one “approved by God”: a classy black-and-white Marilyn Monroe-esque pose of Carpenter holding a man’s arm.

It’s a tale as old as time (or at least the internet): a pop starlet comes crashing into our collective consciousness, producing catchy but non-memorable songs and we scratch our heads, trying to work out what her secret sauce is. We did it to Miley Cyrus (I endured her tongue-twerking 2014 Bangerz tour as a support worker accompanying a fan), Tay Tay and Rihanna. Carpenter is the latest incarnation, and it’s no mystery what part of her strategic brand is selling (her first Man’s Best Friend album cover might give you a clue). Yet, we discuss ...

Some argue the cover, and by extension, Carpenter’s brand identity, is “secretly satirical”. Others have suggested her secret sauce is “comedy”.

Her recently released single Manchild is hanging on the pointy end of the Billboard 100 charts (No. 2 at the time of writing) and, sure, it’s catchy. Some lyrics are funny (“Why so sexy if so dumb? And how survive the Earth so long?“) But let’s not kid ourselves or ignore the Daisy Dukes (very short cut-off jeans) in the Manchild video: sex is still the main brand pillar, and it’s getting old.

I just learnt that Carpenter is a Disney graduate, which makes sense; I should have picked it. This is a classic brand evolution playbook: somewhere in Hollywood there’s a seedy PR dude ripe for a #metoo exposé after years of ushering Disney princesses out of the castle and into the red-light district.

Love her or hate her, right-wing commentator Candace Owens nailed it when she said of that album cover: “If she had wanted to be controversial, she’d have kept her clothes on, gotten married and had some kids on the cover of her album, like she just had a nice family shot.”

Owens points to how “controversial” Instagrammer and mother of eight Hannah Neeleman, of Ballerina Farm fame, was at her peak; she copped the predictable internet pile-on, the word “trad-wife” hurled around with disdain.

Credit where it’s due: Madonna was a pioneer among sexualised pop stars in the 1980s. Now she’s 66 and good on her, but it’s her only enduring brand, as evidenced by her recent bra-less photo shoot. I mean, if that isn’t a warning to you, Sabrina – that you’ll be expected to flop out the mammaries for public admiration when approaching your septuagenarian years and when you’d rather a cuppa and a good sit down – I don’t know what is.

In an era of side-boobs, under-boobs, G-bangers, hi-cut leotards, or just the Full Monty as Bianca Censori so un-shockingly debuted this year, branding yourself as one whose sexuality literally hangs out is deeply uncreative, even if you release an “alternative”, the “God-approved” version channelling another sex icon.

There’s only so much provocation before the last trick up your sleeve is total public nudity, a stint on OnlyFans, or pornographically suggestive album covers. Yawn.

And what a brilliant sleight of hand from the patriarchy, to trick women into objectifying ourselves and call it “empowerment”. I guess the one good thing about sex being the only brand that sells is that we normies are becoming controversial for our extremely boring life choices with our monogamy and nice cups of tea – because if ex-Disney pop stars are anything to go by, we’re all just sexed-up freaks who are up for anything all the time.

Sabrina Carpenter should take a leaf from Hannah Neeleman’s book and really shock us by settling down with a nice guy who loves Wordle and being punctual. Her next album cover could be her surreptitiously pumping milk while binge-watching Hacks in a sleep-deprived delirium, while her husband snores on the couch. Forget Miley Cyrus’ tongue, this alternative brand direction would get everyone else’s wagging.

Cherie Gilmour is a freelance writer.