In 2007, We Had Gossip Girl
BY CHARLIE HOBBS
“Hey Upper East-siders, Gossip Girl here.”
It was a greeting intended exclusively for the elite attendees of Constance Billard School for Girls but heard ‘round the world. When Kristen Bell first uttered those six sweet words ten years ago, it’s doubtful that she or anyone else expected them to define a generation. Long before Blake Lively was pretending to be Gwyneth Paltrow pretending to be Martha Stewart, Gossip Girl sent her first text blast alerting us all of Serena van der Woodsen’s return to the Upper East Side. Entry to the high society world of trust funds and was suddenly as effortless as flipping to the CW.
Times were irrefutably simpler for television in 2007. Production budgets were lower, plotlines were relatively straightforward, and Liz Lemon was in her prime. Audiences were hardly accustomed to the risqué, especially not on a network show marketed to teenagers airing in primetime. Today, the antics of Dan Humphrey seem as wholesome as an episode of The Wonder Years when compared to Riverdale’s macabre weekly murder-fest, but Gossip Girl was the first to really push the envelope. Ads depicting a post-coital Nate Archibald and Blair Waldorf captioned, ”Every parent’s worst nightmare” drew the wrath of One Million Moms in 2007. Nevertheless, look at us now; fifteen-year old Archie Andrews has been sleeping with his teacher for episodes without anyone so much as batting an eye.
Even the marketing team embodied the "rebellious teen" trope. It was shocking and successful in a landscape dominated by the far more virtuous likes of One Tree Hill. In that space, Gossip Girl was irresistible. Even the least Evangelical of parents feared that Jenny Humphrey would indoctrinate their children into shopping at Hot Topic and having premarital relations in the backseat of stretch limousines. But, Jenny and her not-so-classy classmates, were actually doing more than just furthering the divide between blondes and brunettes. They were doing what not even Eleanor Waldorf could do.
2007 was to fashion what the Dark Ages were to happiness and healthcare. In 2007, it was acceptable for Ashley Tisdale to step onto a red carpet wearing jeans under a skirt--multiple times. Donning Eleanor Waldorf originals and Brooks Brothers classics respectively, the ladies and gentlemen of this teen classic filled the void that had been left three years earlier by the departure of the legendary Miss Carrie Bradshaw. They single handedly saved style.
The New York Times first noticed it. In a July 2008 article, Ruth la Ferla interviewed several people in the fashion industry, all of whom were reeling from the impact of Gossip Girl’s premiere ten months prior. Designers now eye-rollingly synonymous with snooty teen attire (see Tory Burch) skyrocketed in popularity as fans of the show bought the pieces featured in each episode en masse. Three archetypes of style were represented in the show; polished and preppy-adjacent, carefree Californian, and upscale Avril Lavigne edginess.
Most notable are Serena and Blair, a sort of Rachel and Monica for the new generation. Everyone knows a Serena—a girl who means well, but is so consumed by her own beauty and the special treatment she receives as a result that she winds up being a bit of a steamroller. Today, she would likely be a brand ambassador for Anthropologie, but back in the day her windswept blonde mane and relaxed, effortless style defined the “cool girl.” Blair Waldorf, a name that could inspire fear in even the Kathryn Merteuils of the world, stands on the other end of the extreme. She took the Constance uniforms, in all of their plaid glory, and embellished them with her headbands, broaches, and colorful tights. Teenage style was in desperate need of a polish, and Gossip Girl did what no other show in 2007 dared to do--put teenagers on the air with nary a popped collar or whale-tail in sight. That was groundbreaking stuff.