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Low rise jeans are back, and so are toxic body standards

You’ve probably been living under a rock if you haven’t noticed the obvious resurgence of Y2K. From music to films and aesthetics, everything remotely 90s is being replicated and recreated a million times by gen Z. While it seems innocent enough, there are a few trends that have some of us—those old enough to remember—reliving their past nightmares. Society is slowly progressing but some elements of the bygone era should stay right where they are—the 2000s. Unfortunately, we are currently in the midst of a return to the toxic idolisation of the low-rise jeans.

What are low-rise jeans and are they really on the rise again?

Low-rise jeans were at the peak of their popularity throughout the 2000s—a time where feminine people were subjected to perhaps the most unhealthy and toxic beauty standards in modern history. If you’re old enough to (unfortunately) remember or you’ve seen a noughties movie or two, you’ll definitely have heard of the overused line ‘does my butt look big in this?’—and no, gen Z, it was not in a good or rather ‘thicc’ way. We’re talking about a time when if you weren’t skinny, you were labelled ‘fat’. Because god forbid you’re fat, and so the war on fat and mid-sized bodies began and continued.

The low-rise jean, typically bootleg, falls quite low on your hip area—in line with the toxic bikini bridge trend—and is often paired with a short crop top, showcasing a person’s entire torso. Back in the day, this was further accentuated with a classic belly button piercing or a ‘tramp stamp’. The ‘tramp stamp’, now termed as a lower back tattoo, also seems to be making its coveted return after gen Zers have reclaimed the tattoo from its previously misogynistic judgements. The low-rise jeans comeback, however, lacks this element of empowerment.

Reentering the zeitgeist on TikTok no less, #lowrisejeans as of today has garnered over 70 million views on the app—with the number sure to rise rapidly. The hashtag has thousands of clips featuring people trying on and styling low-rise jeans. Crossing over with the Y2K renaissance of everything vampire and Twilight, the hashtag includes videos detailing ways to channel Elena Gilbert, from the infamous show The Vampire Diaries, inspired outfits. On the platform, low-rise jeans are paired and pulled off with tank tops, little cardigans and of course, Chucks.


it’s so plain but I feel so hot when I have this on

♬ elenacore - Sav🧸

‘It’s just another fashion trend, right?’ I hear you ask. Well, I hate to prove you wrong but for many, this is an insidious return to the unwaveringly toxic beauty standards of the 00s.

Why is the return of low-rise jeans so toxic?

Fashion trends, excluding those that have cultural significance to a community—no cultural appropriation or blackfishing, please—should be open for anyone and everyone to take part in. Women, girls and feminine people of any size should be able to participate freely in this trend. However, the piece of clothing in question here is rooted in a historic nature of exclusion, fatphobia and prejudice. While many of us are perhaps too young to remember, most millennials are not fortunate enough to forget.

They remember the Juicy Couture era of Nicole Richie and Paris Hilton, the infamous visible thong trend, the ever-present body-shaming tabloids and of course, the classic thigh gap obsession; they know it all too well. Pushing back against this resurrected trend, however, has led them to come under fire from the younger generation, but their concern comes from a place of heavy trauma. The big sisters of the internet are cautioning gen Zers before they repeat history and fall down the toxic rabbit hole of eating disorders and body dysmorphia.

When describing the low-rise jeans and its aesthetic earlier, one thing literally sticks out—the torso. But not just any torso, a ‘perfectly’ flat one. An impeccably toned and taut tummy is what the re-emerging trend is all about. The aesthetic appears to be attached to a person’s skinniness as one TikTok user Colin McCarthy pointed out in a popular video, “A lot of millennial women are saying they are nervous for the low-rise pant to come back into style and they’re getting shit on, of course. Everyone’s like ‘why do you care about what a bunch of teenagers think about what you’re wearing’.”

McCarthy continued, “I think y’all need to remember, the low-rise pant, skirt, short that [were] popular—very Paris Hilton during The Simple Life era—your body was the fashion. The clothes were so casual, it was a t-shirt and jeans. You weren’t showing off what you were wearing, you were showing off your stomach. If you were anything above a [US] size 2, you were ‘fat’.” If this trend booms, we could be seeing a dramatic return to the idolisation of this body standard once again. However, we aren’t in the 2000s anymore and some things have changed—individuals like Jessica Blair are empowering people online to wear whatever the fuck they want.


based on my low rise jean video... the answer is no❤️ not my problem tho #outfitcheck #fashioninspo #confident #ootd #createkindness

♬ i dont think they can handle this - shayne marie

The stunning influencer can be seen donning the new must-have item while telling their audience that “you don’t need a flat stomach to rock low-rise jeans.” What deters people from wearing low-rise jeans not only developed from these harmful body standards, but also the different attitudes to plus-sized bodies wearing the same items as their slimmer counterparts, Blair explains. In another video, they state that fat people were generally ignored in fashion in the 2000s—often with little clothing options open to them and “even if fat people did participate in these trends, the reactions to their outfits would be completely different. Low-rise jeans are viewed as fashionable and trending on thinner body types but they’re typically seen as ‘lazy’ or ‘unflattering’ on plus-size bodies,” they summed up.

It’s time for an overdue goodbye to ‘body’ trends

While I won’t be rocking low-rise jeans anytime soon—I’m sorry, they just look so uncomfortable—the conversation around them and the trend remind us of a bigger issue at hand: body trends. Whether it’s an hourglass Kardashian-esque figure or the ‘heroin chic’ of the 90s and 00s, the so-called ‘trend’ of a woman’s body is outdated, objectifying and archaic. And with the insurgence of the body positive movement, you might have also witnessed the appearance of a false sense of security that times had really changed. Of course, they have in some ways, but the rise of such a toxic trend—that we thought would never return—shows us just how fragile our standards are.

Women and feminine presenting people should be able to exist neutrally in their body in any shape or size and in any decade. It’s time to see some real variety.

Lower back tattoos are making a sex positive comeback among gen Z

“Tattoo on the lower back? Might as well be a bulls-eye,” commented Jeremy Grey (played by Vince Vaughn) in the 2005 blockbuster hit Wedding Crashers. Sipping champagne with his partner John Beckwith (Owen Wilson), the pair of womanisers immediately label a lady with the tattoo as an “easy target” to pick up at a wedding. In comes a sleuth of trashy and sexist jokes—calling lower back tattoos “ass antlers,” “STD magnets” and everything in between—until its comeback among a certain demographic.

What are lower back tattoos?

Lower back tattoos are exactly what they sound like, irrespective of the stigma they have garnered over time. Placed in the middle of one’s lower back, the tattoos are typically oblong in shape, following the slope of one’s back on either side of their spine. The designs are also symmetrical—offering a balanced look. Popularised in the late 1990s and early 2000s, lower back tattoos owe their booming success to the influence of female celebrities including Britney Spears, Aaliyah, Christina Ricci, Pamela Anderson, Angelina Jolie and Victoria Beckham. Heck, even Barbie had a lower back tattoo by 2009.

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Apart from celebrity-boosted fame, the tattoo’s mainstream adaptation is also credited to the popularity of low-rise jeans—worn at the hips rather than the natural waist—and crop tops in the late 90s. Although the lower back is not always the widest area of the human back, it offers an abundant canvas for large designs where horizontal designs can be pulled off easily. The location is also less likely to stretch and distort due to minor weight fluctuations, ruling out all chances of the design warping over time. The concealed nature of the location in formal settings further adds to its appeal among potential recipients.

At the same time, however, the location and visibility of these tattoos have aided its stereotypical association with one’s sexuality. In the eyes of many, the curve of a woman’s back represents the eternal suggestion of bending over—a visual symbol of promiscuity and eventual submission. Tattoos in the area were thereby dubbed ‘tramp stamps’ alongside its lesser-known counterparts ‘slag tag’ and ‘after sex bullseye’.

“A tattoo above a woman’s ass crack,” reads the top definition for the term ‘tramp stamp’ on Urban Dictionary. Some entries on the platform even go as far as labelling lower back tattoos as a “surefire way” of pointing out women one should avoid dating. “A tramp stamp’s sole purpose is to provide a type of ID or banner for everyone to see that indeed this woman is trashy and not the kind to bring home to meet the family,” an entry reads. While another adds how the tattoo is trending among “girls who do not realise it stems from porn stars wanting to show a money shot.”

“The larger the tramp stamp, the more promiscuous the female,” goes the common lore on the internet. In an effort to put this statement to test, psychiatrist Nicolas Guéguen of Université Bretagne-Sud surveyed tattooed and pierced women in France. In the study, published in Psychology Today, Guéguen rounded up women to lounge solo on beaches in the same exact bikini, reading a book or magazine—some with a lower back tattoo of a butterfly and others without.

The results shockingly revealed how women with the tattoo placement are more likely to be hit on by men and viewed as promiscuous. It also uncovered that men believed women with the specific tattoo to be “less athletic, less motivated, less honest, less generous, less religious, less intelligent and less artistic.” This is also the reason why tattooed Barbies raised parental brows wherever they were taken.

Concerns were not only raised about the potential influence of tattoos on children—fostering an affinity towards body modifications later on in their lives—but also about giving them the “wrong idea” about tattoos in general when it came to lower backs as a location. Frankly, the only wrong idea the kids would’ve gotten is that a lower back tattoo can be removed with a penny and some determination, but that was besides the point at the time.

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The inevitable return in a sex positive era

Close to 24 million views on TikTok, lower back tattoos are undoubtedly making a comeback—particularly among gen Zers, who are now on a quest to redeem the tattoo placement of all its pejorative notions. Lower back tattoos no longer bear the same stigma, they are instead perceived as an empowering icon in a sex positive era. And those committed to its redemption are donning their three-ply masks and strolling down to tattoo artists like Jaz Paulino, who admitted to giving a lower back tattoo to a client merely a few days ago.

“Coincidentally, my client had a lower back tattoo from the era in which it was very trendy but got it removed recently,” Paulino said, adding how she’s now working on a new design that starts at the coveted location and works its way up towards the center of her client’s back. “She did it this way cleverly, so that she wouldn’t be limited or obligated to go in a direction she didn’t want to with the design.”

When asked about the motivations nudging clients to get a lower back tattoo, the artist highlighted variations over the years—starting with low-rise jeans, which gave people the confidence to get tattoos that would be more visible when dancing, for example. “Nowadays, I feel like the lower back tattoos I do are on clients who always thought the look was cool and now they want them—bringing back the trend—or those who already have them and want to cover them up with something new.” Paulino also credited the Y2K revival for its recent boom. “I myself am a 90s baby, so I see a lot of our trends from then making a comeback through the eyes of gen Z. I’m glad lower back tattoos are part of this, I’ve always been a fan.”

As far as preferred designs go, the artist has witnessed people getting everything between tribal, floral, text and animal prints. “The ideas are limitless,” Paulino added. She also deemed lower backs to be a great placement for a tattoo on anyone, having one herself and loving it. “It’s like a ‘peek-a-boo’ tattoo, super cute.”

In my chat with Paulino about the references lower back tattoos have gathered over time, the artist looked at a wider phenomenon which plays a crucial role in its ‘derogatory’ status. “The term ‘tramp stamp’ reminds me of how people have perceived tattooed folks in general in the past,” Paulino explained. “It’s not so much the case anymore considering how accepted tattoos have become. But if I was around during those times with all the work I have on my body, I would have been deemed a ‘criminal’ or a ‘promiscuous girl with no future’.”

According to the artist, this is no different than the judgement our society has given women in the past for having lower back tattoos—when they probably got them for a variety of personal preferences and reasons.

On a quest to break down the experience and get first-hand views on the tattoo placement, I arrived at the doors of Nicci, who admitted to getting a lower back tattoo 15 years ago. “It was actually my first tattoo,” Nicci said. “I went to a shop the week of my birthday and picked a piece of flash based on the shape and the fact that I wanted to be able to cover it up.” Considering these factors, the two options open to Nicci were either the top of her back or the bottom. She went along with the tattoo artist’s suggestion of the latter.

“It wasn’t very painful. If I remember right I would say a 3 or a 4,” Nicci mentioned, when asked about her experience. The pain factor for the recipient was considerably low, given the fact that it was her first tattoo. “I was lucky because there was someone getting a giant back piece done right in front of me—so I got to watch that while I was getting tattooed.” In terms of the aftercare, Nicci reminisced how the artist put saran wrap on it. On the second day or so, she proceeded to take it off and started using Aquaphor.

When asked about the general feedback to her lower back tattoo, Nicci admitted that the whole ‘tramp stamp’ controversy didn’t bother her because most people or strangers didn’t even know she had one. However, she did get a few comments at the pool once. “Someone said I had a ‘nice target’, which was gross,” Nicci said. As for the people close to her, the feedback was more than wholesome. “My grandma was actually the first person to see it and she told me it was cute. Other people that I told or showed it to told me it was an interesting choice—that it was kind of manly and maybe I should add something to make it a bit more feminine.” Nicci also added how her best friend has been urging her to put a bow on it for years now. “But I have always loved it the way it is,” she continued.

So is there a ‘male equivalent’ of the derogatory references lower back tattoos have amassed or is the tattoo placement termed ‘tramp stamps’ only when it’s on women? According to Paulino, a lot of what women do gets sexualised, including but not limited to tattoo subjects and placements. “As for a male equivalent to a lower back tattoo, I think that a fuckboy is a fuckboy with or without tattoos—anywhere on the bod.”

In terms of separating the negative connotations and reclaiming the concept of ‘tramp stamps’ in 2021, the artist suggests giving the tattoo placement a new name altogether. “Let’s call them ‘tail tats’, ‘permanent pelv-ink’ (pelvis ink), or ‘lower back snack’. I’m spit-ballin’ at this point but hey, you heard it from me first!”

Nicci, on the other hand, thinks we’ve already made it to the other side—as the connotations have not stopped women from getting them. If they had, however, it would have given the entire idea even more autonomy. “As a woman, if someone sees it and makes a stupid comment, it just lets me know that I should probably steer clear of that person—because if they are willing to judge me based on a tattoo placement, I don’t want to be around someone who thinks like that,” she continued.

So if you still have your ears perked, here’s what Nicci has to say to all of you who are on the fence of getting a lower back tattoo. “Do it! I have never regretted it and love it so much.” The only thing you need to consider first is your design, in case you want something bigger on your back down the line. “Make sure it will flow or at least avoid getting in the way of the future one.”

‘Tramp stamps’ may just mature into ‘gramp stamps’ by 2050—an intact badge we would still hope to sport alongside the iconic comeback of exposed thongs. Until then, grab Paulino’s hand and chant: “the only way to go is up, with a lower back snack.”