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Cigarettes have quietly reappeared across runways, music videos and glossy covers — a trend that many observers say echoes the early-1990s “heroin chic” moment. The imagery raises familiar questions about how fashion and celebrity culture link thinness, danger and desirability.
Runways, pop videos and a retro accessory
At New York Fashion Week for fall/winter 2024, designers such as Christian Cowan and LaQuan Smith staged shows in which models carried lit cigarettes as part of the presentation. Around the same time, the so-called “brat” aesthetic — popularized on social platforms and called out by artists like Charli XCX — surfaced in mainstream culture. High-profile music clips followed: in one recent video, a performer appears to smoke two cigarettes at once.
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The recurrence of smoking in editorial shoots and onstage prompts a simple question: is this a reworking of Old Hollywood glamour, or the return of a darker style that once glamorized self-harm?
What “heroin chic” meant — and why it mattered
The look critics called heroin chic emerged in the early 1990s as a stark contrast to the bold excess of the 1980s. It was associated with pallid skin, extreme thinness, an air of exhaustion and frequent images of people smoking. The phrase entered wider usage in 1997 after the fashion editor Ingrid Sischy publicly condemned the aesthetic following the overdose death of photographer Davide Sorrenti; major outlets at the time connected the tragedy to the problem of glamorized drug culture in fashion.
Images such as the notorious 2007 stairwell photograph of Kate Moss — cigarette in hand, pale and angular — became shorthand for the aesthetic. Moss’s later, much-discussed comment that “nothing tastes as good as skinny feels” also entered public debate, even as she later downplayed the remark.
Advertising, appetite and influence
Smoking and weight control have a long, fraught advertising history. In the early 20th century, tobacco brands ran ads linking cigarettes to appetite suppression; one widely cited campaign urged consumers to choose a cigarette instead of a sweet. Over decades, fashion photography and tobacco-friendly imagery often reinforced the association between smoking and thinness, presenting gaunt, moody models as aspirational figures.
The result was not merely aesthetic. For many young people, such pictures served as models for behavior and body ideals — a dynamic that critics say can normalize unhealthy habits even when no direct endorsement is stated.
Shifts in culture, then and now
In recent years there were visible pushes toward greater body inclusivity. Celebrated moments included the rise of plus-size figures in fashion and mainstream coverage of athletes and celebrities with diverse body types. Public health campaigns also intensified their efforts to reduce smoking.
Still, cultural tides turned again after the pandemic. Wellness trends cooled and a more detached, minimalist “cool” reemerged in some circles. At the same time, new medical weight-loss options — notably injectable drugs referred to as GLP-1s — have altered conversations about body change, with some observers linking them to the renewed visibility of ultra-thin celebrities.
Social media’s role and the policing of bodies
Where once supermarket tabloids led the commentary on celebrity bodies, much of that policing has migrated to social feeds and comment threads. Public reactions to interviews and appearance-related content often focus on perceived signs of weight loss, sometimes in ways that read more like speculation or accusation than concern.
Tabloid coverage has also had a blunt tone. Past reports about celebrities’ extreme dieting or low weights drew sensational headlines, and critics say the pattern of shaming and speculation has not disappeared — it has only found new platforms.
Why this matters
The reappearance of tobacco imagery intersects with real-world implications: media shapes what young people see as desirable, and that visual vocabulary can influence behaviors around diet, substance use and self-image. Whether designers and directors intend homage or provocation, the effect is often felt by impressionable audiences.
On a personal level, many who remember the original heroin chic era say the cycle is painful to watch. For parents, journalists and health advocates, the stakes include protecting young people from imagery that glamorizes self-harm or equates thinness with worth.
Looking ahead
Fashion shows in 2027 continued to display the same louche silhouettes and cigarette motifs that reemerged a few seasons earlier. Some industry figures defend the visuals as retro or ironic; others warn they risk reviving dangerous ideals.
Those concerns inform a simple plea from many who grew up amid similar imagery: images that make illness look stylish should be questioned rather than celebrated. For anyone raising children or shaping cultural institutions, the challenge is to promote a more neutral, humane set of standards about bodies and health — and to resist recycling styles that carry a history of harm.
