Brat Summer, the unlikely online phenomenon named after Charli XCXâs sixth album that briefly refracted pop cultureâfrom motherhood to analog cigarettes to nose drugsâthrough its chartreuse prism, died Sunday, July 21, on X, formerly known as Twitter. It was just over 80 days old.
Brat Summer began in early May of this year when Charli XCX, born Charlotte Emma Aitchison, dropped by for a surprise set at Brooklynâs Lot Radio. Her performance drew throngs of fans to a small shipping container on Nassau Avenue while an army of popper-carrying Brooklynites impeded the already problematic traffic pattern at the Williamsburg-Greenpoint border.
As Charli perched in front of a large wall painted in the albumâs now iconic shade of messy green (Pantone 3507C) lip-syncing to â360,â BRATâs spring-loaded second single, the viral potential of her album rollout heaved into view. When four wordsââiâm your fav referenceââstylized in the albumâs lowercase sans-serif typeface, appeared on the Brooklyn wall seemingly overnight a few weeks later, the online community seemed to unanimously rally around its mandate: to have a Brat Summer.
The possibilities of Brat Summer were manifold, from annoying your boyfriend on vacation to making chilled zucchini soup to waving to the âoriginal 365 party girl,â the Statue of Liberty. Each time the Brooklyn âBrat Wallâ got a fresh coat of paint, legions of Brat Summer adherents eagerly parsed its message like some ancient cuneiform. Itâs hard to forget where you were the day the billboard suddenly read âL o r d e,â a preview of the collaborative remix of BRATâs âGirl, So confusing.â Brat Summer, it turned out, was also about making amends.
During its short but intense existence, Brat Summer captured the hearts of not just Charli XCX fans (known as âAngelsâ) but a broad coalition of followers old and new: Millennials clinging to false memories of early-noughties dirtbag dance music, zoomers who lost many of their precious hedonistic years to the pandemic lockdown, and even toddlers, whose adorable misreadings of the albumâs more lurid lyrics would become prescient after its demise. Its slippery definitionâWas Tony Soprano having a Brat Summer on his green pool floatie? Could you still have a Brat Summer if you had a stretching routine?âonly amplified the impact of Brat Summer. Even the G train was having a Brat Summer âworking some of the time, mostly hanging out in Brooklyn.
Social media managers took note of the album artâs low-effort, counterintuitive chicness, and soon, X and Instagram were flooded with mimetic interpretations. By the end of June, the month of the albumâs release, some were beginning to grow wary of how long Brat Summer could last. Could it survive being co-opted by brand executives who would keel over from one whiff of Rush? Or would it, like so many other online phenomena that broke free of the cloisters of the internet, shrivel and die in the real world, like a string of hosta flowers wilting in a heatwave?
