Disney occupies a special place in popular culture, both as a site of the imaginary and as one of the largest entertainment companies globally. Drawing on papers presented at the Popular Culture Research Network (PopCRN) international conference, The Magic Kingdom: Exploring Disney’s Impact on Popular Culture, held in July 2025, this Special Issue examines how Disney’s canon is shaped not only by its narratives, but also by their limits, silences and ambiguities. Disney presents itself as a site of family-friendly entertainment, avoiding areas of cultural contestation. This approach, however, has drawn criticism of ‘Disneyfication’: a process that seeks to maintain a conservative hegemony. This Special Issue brings together historians, sociologists, criminologists and media studies scholars to interrogate concepts of corporate power, fan engagement and representation across the Disney canon. The articles include discussions on racial erasures within the Haunted Mansion attraction, cautious depictions of queerness within the Marvel Multiverse, and fan negotiations of ambiguity in The Owl House . Conversely, analyses of moral certainty in the depictions of criminals and the narrative of rewarding specific dreams through the motif of flight reveal deliberate choices in character construction. Together, papers in this Special Issue demonstrate how Disney negotiates the pressures of popular engagement while striving to preserve its brand coherence.

Using a corpus of 509 popular US sport films (1920-2024), this study aims to examine the disparity between audience reception, critical acclaim and financial success. It does this by using publicly available data from the Internet Movie Database (IMDb), critical reception (Metascores) and box office receipts (The Numbers). This study finds three key findings. Firstly, boxing narratives overwhelmingly dominate the genre, achieving high critical and popular acclaim alongside strong box office success. Secondly, while films featuring female protagonists are in a clear minority, their audience and critical ratings are comparable, and at times superior, those of male protagonists. This finding suggests that the underrepresentation of women's stories is a product of industry bias rather than audience preferences. Finally, a clear cultural divide emerges between which sport stories resonate with domestic and international audiences; some quintessential American sports, such as American football and baseball, are less successful internationally, while boxing enjoys universal appeal.

Though the ‘official’ film noir period ended more than 60 years ago, the enigmatic allure of noir endures, lingering like the smoke from a femme fatale’s cigarette. IMDB defines the classic film noir period of American cinema as beginning with the film Underworld (1927) and ending with Touch of Evil (1958), while many consider that John Houston’s The Maltese Falcon (1941), an adaptation of Dasheill Hammett’s hard-boiled detective novel, as launching the classic noir cycle. Classic noir is immediately recognisable for its characters: the brooding detective and sultry femme fatale; its themes of crime, corruption, and the seedy side of the big city; and its distinctive visual style, including a high-contrast black and white palette. With its categorisation – as genre/cycle/style – contested and argued over the ensuing years, noir nevertheless remains an essential part of our screen lexicon. Neo-noir, a perceptible set of screen texts emerging after the classic noir era, has undergone its own rigorous contestation and evolution, with another distinct iteration, neon-noir, also emerging. Hybridisation of noir with other genres and styles has arguably always been around, and the range of texts that emerged beyond the classic era blend noir with everything from horror in Psycho (1960), science fiction in Blade Runner (1982), dark comedy in Fargo (1996), to the Western in Mystery Road (2013). Whilst the visual features of noir are an integral part of its appeal, we must not forget that its literary roots run deep and have continued to proliferate; classic film noir arose from the novels of Hammett and Raymond Chandler, Nordic Noir had its literary roots in books from Henning Mankell and Stieg Larssen, and Australian (or ‘Outback’) Noir has emerged as a crime fiction juggernaut, with several adaptations making their way to big and small screens. On television, Nordic Noir is in its third decade of taking the world by storm, and its influence can be traced across other national noir texts, such as the UK’s Broadchurch (2013-2017). High-quality noir-inspired productions continue to appear on streaming services, such as Netflix’s limited series Ripley (2024), shot in sumptuous black and white. Genre hybridisation is also evident on the small screen, including quirky comedy and supernatural themes in Twin Peaks (1990-1, 2017), an influential network success with a streaming sequel, and comedy in Amazon’s Aussie hit Deadloch (2023-). It is not the aim of this issue of M/C Journal on noir to define or redefine noir, as this is an argument no one can win, and in fact the argument itself can be ruled redundant. Rather, our authors interrogate iterations of noir from its classic roots to more recent hybridisations. Across the media of film, television, and literary fiction, these articles investigate how noir intersects with such diverse genres as the Western, children’s fiction, comedy, horror, superhero films, and documentary. Recognising the multi-faceted nature of noir, articles explore noir tropes evident in themes, characters, and style. Having broken free of its American-centric (and city-bound) classic roots decades ago, national iterations of noir continue to spread and hybridise, and continued academic and popular interest in noir is fed by its ever-changing, ever-growing oeuvre. Noir, as evident in this edition, is both instantly recognisable and generically slippery. Tess Ezzy’s article “Black Widow: Unravelling Noir Characterisation in Charlotte’s Web’s Femme Fatale” explores the unexpected parallels between E.B. White's Charlotte’s Web and the thematic and stylistic elements of film noir. While the novel has long been celebrated as a staple of children’s literature for its exploration of friendship, mortality, and the cycles of life, this article reveals how it also delves into moral ambiguity, agency, and survival when viewed through a noir lens. Central to this analysis is spider Charlotte A. Cavatica, who embodies the femme fatale archetype: intelligent, manipulative, and morally complex. Charlotte’s actions align with the classic femme fatale, blending altruism with strategic deception to subvert oppressive systems and ensure survival. The barnyard, too, serves as a noir-like microcosm, where idyllic appearances mask existential dilemmas and ethical compromises. Characters such as Templeton, the self-interested yet essential ally, and Wilbur, the passive protagonist wrestling with existential dread, reflect a broader exploration of morally grey spaces, collective survival, and the consequences of agency. Through this lens, the article argues that Charlotte’s Web transcends its pastoral genre, weaving themes of deception, fatalism, and ethical complexity typically associated with noir into a sophisticated narrative suitable for all ages. The article “All the Pretty Noir Horses: The Myth of the Horse in the Noir Western” by Huw Nolan, Jenny Wise, and Nathan Wise explores how Cormac McCarthy’s 1992 novel All the Pretty Horses combines elements of noir and the Western, creating a hybrid that subverts both genres. The study uses Barthes’s theory of myth to analyse how horses function as symbolic constructs, embodying tensions between freedom and control, nostalgia and progress. It argues that horses fulfill a dual role, both as romanticised icons of the cowboy ethos and as agents of entrapment that underscore noir’s fatalism. The analysis situates the novel within a landscape of industrial encroachment, where the Western’s rugged individualism and pastoral ideals degrade under the forces of modernity. Horses represent these collapsing ideals, reflecting humanity’s contradictory yearning for unspoiled nature while simultaneously exploiting it. The article also reimagines noir’s femme fatale through the mythic allure of horses, which, like the femme fatale, lead protagonists into cycles of desire, conflict, and inevitable suffering. For protagonist John Grady Cole, his idealised connection to horses intensifies his entanglement in violence and loss, underscoring noir’s themes of disillusionment and constrained agency. In an in-depth analysis of The Batman (2022) in “Becoming the Shadows: A Gothic Noir Reading of Empathy, Psychopathy and Anti-Heroism in The Batman (2022)”, Tracey Woolrych and Chris Comerford situate the film at the intersection of gothic and noir genres. Unlike previous cinematic portrayals of the character, Robert Pattinson’s Batman is depicted as a morally ambiguous anti-hero, whose violent actions and psychological complexities reflect both noir’s archetypal hard-boiled detective and gothic tropes of trauma and monstrosity. They argue the film’s aesthetic evokes a dark, crime-ridden Gotham where Batman operates as a conflicted vigilante, alienated from societal acceptance yet driven by an overwhelming sense of justice. This iteration emphasises his psychological distress—rooted in the trauma of his parents’ murder—and explores his efforts to channel personal pain into his crusade for justice, which blurs the line between heroism and pathology. Through a psychological lens, the article considers Batman’s dark traits, analysing his aggressive tendencies, emotional compartmentalisation, and bouts of empathy, which align him with characteristics of both psychopathy and what researchers term the ‘dark empath’. Batman’s emotional detachment is seen as a protective mechanism but also as a source of tension, driving his actions and shaping his isolated persona. Further, the article contrasts Batman with the Riddler, highlighting how the film draws parallels between the two as different manifestations of violence and trauma, further complicating the dichotomy of good versus evil. Pattinson’s Batman is viewed as a complex, liminal figure who challenges traditional notions of noir anti-heroes and gothic protagonists. The authors conclude that this interpretation contributes to a richer understanding of the character and the interplay between trauma, heroism, and morality in contemporary storytelling. Kaela Joseph’s article “Gays Burying Ourselves: Immersive and Subversive Uses of Neon Noir in I Saw the TV Glow” examines Jane Schoenbrun’s 2024 I Saw the TV Glow (ISTTVG), a psychological sci-fi/horror film that uses neon-noir techniques to craft a compelling allegory for the queer experience, centring themes of internalised heteronormativity, identity concealment, and psychological liberation. The article considers the act of self-burial – both metaphorically and literally – as a complex, unsettling process of identity reclamation, tying it to queer struggles of ego death and authenticity. Drawing on noir elements – such as expressionist cinematography, morally ambiguous characters, and grim, suffocating settings – the film, for the authors, shifts traditional noir paradigms into uniquely queer territory, reimagining familiar tropes and fears through a subversive lens. Unlike traditional noir, ISTTVG trades urban landscapes for the banality of the suburban, capturing the stifling mundanity associated with heteronormative conformity. While neon-noir typically relies on cityscapes and artificial light to evoke unease, the article posits that Schoenburn shifts this tension to televisions, projectors, and other nostalgic imagery, blurring the comforting glow of serialised television with undertones of disquiet and despair. Both the setting and cinematography invoke queer temporality, suggesting a simultaneous suspension and urgency of time, reflecting the queer experience of navigating identity within societal constraints, which along with the characters complicate traditional noir archetypes. “Who Will Control the Black Bird? Influence and Power Bases in The Maltese Falcon” is an intricate examination of power dynamics and influence tactics used by the characters in the source novel and film adaptation of The Maltese Falcon. Drawing on the noir aesthetic, Gordon Schmidt and Clint Martin consider a morally ambiguous world rife with deception and manipulation, where no one can claim true legitimacy or complete control over the prized artifact. Central to classic noir, the characters navigate a shadowy environment of mistrust, ethical compromises, and blurred morality, consistent with the genre's themes of power struggles and individual ambition. The article explores these dynamics through frameworks of positional and personal power, illustrating how the noir setting forces characters to depend on manipulation, negotiation, and influence to navigate a treacherous moral landscape. It highlights how the interplay of power and character motivations not only drives the narrative but also reflects the pessimistic, ruthless worldview inherent to noir. By analysing the transactional and tension-filled relationships through the lens of power, the article deepens our understanding of the genre’s thematic focus on human vulnerability, corruption, and the elusiveness of control in a world bound by chaos. L. Dugan Nichols argues in “Generational Detectives: Documentary Noir, Millennials, and Conspiracy on Netflix“ that the streamer’s American Conspiracy: The Octopus Murders (2024) represents the intersecting evolution of noir storytelling, conspiracy theories, and Millennial generational anxiety. It applies the dark, paranoid tropes of film noir to the documentary format while weaving in themes of disillusionment with systemic power structures, raising questions of murder, corruption, and obfuscated truths. The series’ investigative photojournalist mirrors the archetype of a noir detective, immersed in an indifferent, malevolent world where answers remain elusive, and suspicion infects all interactions. The article argues that beyond its surface as a true-crime mystery, the documentary reflects a larger generational narrative, portraying Millennials grappling with the fallout of inherited neoliberal policies, growing economic inequality, and political disillusionment in the wake of events like 9/11 and the 2008 financial crisis. The noir aesthetic – labyrinthine plotting, dramatic sprawl, unresolved endings, and deep societal mistrust – here serves as both a narrative device and a lens through which Millennial anxieties about their precarious world are refracted. Within the broader cultural landscape, American Conspiracy fits into a subculture of podcasts and online communities that use conspiracies to dissect historical and contemporary abuses of power, creating new digital noirs for a disenchanted generation. Noir has often been defined by its urban roots, where shadowy streets and towering cityscapes mirror the moral ambiguity and despair at the genre's core. However, noir is not confined to the chaos of the metropolis, as we find in André Francisco’s article “’Small town, big hell’: Noir and Landscape in Mare of Easttown (2018)”. Francisco examines noir themes – corruption, entrapment, and moral decay – and finds they have equally compelling expression in small towns, where intimacy and familiarity amplify tension. The idyllic façade of the small town, steeped in myths of American wholesomeness, often obscures its shared secrets, crumbling morality, and collective complicity. In this context, the TV series Mare of Easttown offers a striking contemporary example, reinterpreting noir’s aesthetic and thematic template within the confines of a suburban American community. Visually, Mare of Easttown adapts noir’s shadow-laden cityscapes into muted greys and desolate suburban landscapes. The decayed houses, barren roads, and dimly lit interiors evoke a sense of suffocating inevitability. Here, wide-open spaces paradoxically feel as restrictive as noir’s urban labyrinths, mirroring a community where violence and despair thrive not in isolation but in the oppressive closeness of intergenerational ties. Crimes in Easttown, such as domestic violence, sexual assault, and child abuse, are not random but products of a deeply broken environment. Justice is elusive, complicated by a network of relationships where everyone is implicated in some way. Like the back alleys of the noir city, Easttown itself becomes a character, embodying the moral decay noir thrives upon. Completing this issue, Kai Qing Tan examines Yeo Siew Hua’s A Land Imagined (2018), a Singaporean noir film, to explore its commentary on migrant labourers’ exploitation, alienation, and the reification of individuals within the neoliberal, glocalised structure of Singapore. Titled “Negative Affects in the Dark Intervals of A Land Imagined”, the discussion focusses on the film’s use of ‘dark intervals’ – liminal spaces like cybercafés, highways, and reclaimed lands – to evoke moments of reflection, personal transformation, and the acknowledgment of marginalised lives. The film disrupts viewers’ preconceived notions, invoking reflective empathy by immersing them in the dreams, struggles, and vulnerabilities of the migrant workers. Visual motifs such as red lights and reclaimed land symbolise Singapore’s unceasing development, achieved at the expense of these labourers’ invisibility and systemic exploitation. In its poetic and ambivalent ending, A Land Imagined juxtaposes the characters’ pursuit of freedom with viewers’ passive observance, asking them to assess their own complicity in the societal dynamics it critiques. It concludes by emphasising the potential of non-Western noir, such as this Singaporean film, to expose hidden injustices and reimagine societal attitudes, calling for more scholarly focus on global noir traditions as tools for critical empathy and inclusive community-building. Acknowledgment The editors of this issue would like to thank M/C Journal, the peer reviewers, and the Popular Culture Research Network (popcrn.org) for their support of contemporary popular culture research.

Why do contemporary Australian women wear nostalgic 1950s style clothing, and what can the clothing tell us about their sartorial practices? This article demonstrates the methodological value of using a material culture framework to reveal the complex interplay of materiality and culture behind clothing choices. The framework presented here combines the History of Dress approach (object-based analysis) with the Fashion Studies approach (socio-cultural interpretation) to answer the research question. The approach includes a detailed object analysis of an exemplar garment, an object analysis of the range of nostalgic 1950s style clothing available in the Australia retail market, and an examination of the associated ephemera, including branding, advertising and model representation, to reveal what the object informs us about the women who wear the style. This is complemented by an deep analysis of what the culture, based on interviews with 29 Australian women, says about their clothing practices. This reveals that the women embrace the style for their esthetic values, whilst rejecting the historical social norms associated with the style. This article presents a research design that provides a rigorous, adaptable framework for clothing research, enabling scholars to examine the materiality of clothing alongside its socio-cultural significance.

Modern and historical royal families are a popular area of scholarly interest, with power and politics the centre of much research. Royalty is also a popular area of study in a range of other areas including gender, class, material culture, celebrity studies, consumption practices, and cinematic representations. Much of what we understand about royal families comes from mediated images, meaning we see a public version of kings and queens and their children. These images are heavily curated and stage-managed, with the aim of affirming them and their values in a positive social and national light. While some royal families are in decline, others such the House of Windsor and the House of Saud remain very visible and hold significant cultural and historic value. Popular culture uses the label ‘royals’ not just for royal family members, but it is largely used to denote someone who has hit the top of the game, like Tina Turner the Queen of rock'n'roll, or those seen as the Queens of daytime TV. Disney has made a habit of endearing royalty to its audiences with its imaginary famous queens and kings. In these few examples it is apparent that royalty is mediated, romanticised, imagined, and contested within a range of historical and cultural spaces. Because most people will never get to meet a member of a royal family, we are keen to know what their lives are like behind the palace walls. It is perhaps this desire to peek behind the walls that explains our interest in watching films and television about royals and buying magazines with royals on the cover, amongst a number of other ways we seek to engage with royalty. Royalty, especially British royalty, also needs to engage with us. They need to maintain their relevance and authority, so making public appearances provides opportunities – even if heavily managed and curated – for the public to see them, and ideally to consolidate public affection for them. Popular culture representations – in the media and other cultural and social spaces – provide audiences with a broader canvas on which to examine the power and relevance of royalty. How they are represented and framed in popular cultural can explain and challenge normative meanings about the roles they play in modern society and allow us researchers and audiences to consider royalty in regard to gender, age, biopower, class, empire, and colonisation. Given the death of Queen Elizabeth II on 8 September 2022 and the coronation of her son Charles III and his wife Camilla as King and Queen on 6 May 2023, there is increased global and Commonwealth interest in royals of both the past and the present. It also coincides with public discussions about the future of the British monarchy. While the royal family find themselves at the dawn of a new era, King Charles was born in 1948 and is 75 years old, and there is disquiet in the House of Windsor, positing that it is timely to examine the space and place of the British royals in contemporary society. But the British royal family is one of 43 nations with sovereignties. The British royal family is arguably the best-known royal family, and it is also a wealthy royal family, worth an estimated US$88 billion. However, if we correlate wealth to power, it is the royal families of the Middle East who dominate the list of the world’s most powerful. The Saudi royal family are thought to be worth more than US$1 trillion, the richest royal family in the world. The wealth of these two families alone may mean that there is popular interest in their lives. However, as royals with significant wealth and power bring influence, that too increases interest. Such influence means their relationships, fashion, children, and lifestyles are endlessly speculated about, giving royals a celebrity status. It is this celebrity status that drives royal consumption. In Lisa J. Hackett’s exploration of historic British royal memes, this issue’s feature article, she delves into the cultural transmission of royals through Internet memes. In the age of rapid communication and viral trends, Internet memes play a significant role in shaping cultural narratives about not only current royals, but royalty in history. As a form of social communication produced for users by users, memes are also circulated, imitated, and transformed as they are consumed. In a digital culture they provide avenues for royalty to be satirised, parodied, and critiqued via humour, with the use of intertextual references. As such, memes are cultural artifacts which reflect and remake the commodification of royal celebrity. When thinking about royals of the past, memes can shape current meanings about long-ago kings and queens. This case study of historical royal memes shows the framing of Elizabeth I with contemporary pop songs, Lady Jane Grey with Netflix films and former UK Prime Minister Liz Truss, Shakespeare’s Richard III’s ‘Winter of Discontent’ reference with play on words like ‘disco tents’ and ‘discount tents’, as well as the intertextuality of Blackadder and Joni Mitchell. In these memes, which are both fluid and static, audiences form, unform, and reform meanings about historic royals. Dennis Olsen’s article “Consuming Royalty: Promotional Narrratives and the British Royal Family” examines the intersections of the British royal family and consumer culture, with a focus on the coronation of King Charles III. Conducting a content analysis of visual elements, captions and/or hashtags of sponsored posts, stories, and reels that promoted the British monarchy in the week leading up to the Coronation on 6 May 2023, Olsen found that there is a shifting landscape when it comes to the British royals, tradition, lifestyle, and consumption. He demonstrates that while brands from diverse corporations contribute enduring appeal of the British royals, and with narratives appearing to bridge the gap between royalty and the public, contemporary promotional narratives did shift focus from the sovereign and royal family to the broader institution of royalty. In “The Royal Treatment: Fans and Fan Practices of the House of Windsor” by Bridget Kies, the focus is on examining how celebrity and star studies can understand how public personae are manufactured, with reference to cultural representations of the British royal family in a number of cinematic and textual examples. She posits that both fan and fan practices deliver not only royal fan affect: there is also evidence of anti-fandom in some cultural products. Jo Coghlan’s discussion of British royal traditions and practices, historical and contemporary, posits that much is invented about the House of Windsor. From Empire Day to Royal tours to the commodification of images of the royals on tea towels and magazine covers, British royal iconography has intruded into the daily lives of Australians. She argues that not only have the British royals entered our public imaginations, but they have done so as part of a hegemonic project to successfully consolidate their legitimacy and exert their colonial right over Australia. It is in examining the everyday ways in which the British royals are embedded in Australian society that apathy if not opposition to Australia becoming a republic is found. In “Violence and Power of the Modern British Monarch: A Case Study of the Reaction to Princess Diana’s Death”, Anna Molkova asks a series of sociological questions to understand if the British monarch can ‘reign but not rule’ in a modern democratic society, with reference to the cases of Princess Diana and King Charles III. The last two articles in this issue examine non-British royalty in its socio-cultural contexts. Huw Nolan and Amy Tait examine the television series The Great (2020-2023), a satirical comedy-drama television series created by Australian screenwriter Tony McNamara. Combining historical facts with intentional anachronisms, views of the eighteenth-century aristocracy and Catherine the Great’s journey from outsider to enlightened Empress provide a backdrop to reflect on a range of societal and ethical themes. A close reading of The Great in “‘Don’t Say Neigh, Say Yay...’: Human-Animal Relationships in TV’s The Great and Their Potential Impact on Modern Audiences” reveals how animals are treated within the royal court, serving as a symbolic reflection of the era’s hierarchical structures and ethical norms. It also considers the juxtaposition of archaic, often barbaric practices with modern views on animal welfare, prompting viewers to reevaluate their moral perspectives on human-animal relationships, in this case in a broader royal context. Lastly, Simona Strungaru’s article “A Kingdom of Possibility: The International Rise, Affluence, and Influence of the House of Saud” provides a unique insight into the world’s most wealthy royal family, the Saudi Arabian royal family, the House of Saud. With a history dating back to the eighteenth century, the House of Saud has overseen the development of a relatively young nation (formed less than a century ago) to a state that has undergone significant transformations in terms of economics, technology, regional and international influences, and social and cultural change. With a focus on Crown Prince Mohammed Bin Salman (known colloquially as MBS), the article examines how MBS has become a household name since appearing in the public eye in 2015 when, at only 29 years of age, he was appointed by his father King Salman as Defence Minister and Secretary-General of the Royal Court. His quick advance in rank and position to Crown Prince in 2017 and Prime Minister in 2022 has led most political and social commentators appropriately to consider MBS as the de facto ruler of present-day Saudi Arabia.

In A Theory of Adaptation, Linda Hutcheon considers Darwinist claims that some animal stories survive more readily than others. Just as natural selection drives evolution, genetic selection and memetic cultural transmission drive the evolution, mutation and flourishing of adaptations in ever-changing narratives and technological environments. In the telling and retelling of stories, it invites a state of hyperreality, where copies of copies are believed to be real. Jean Baudrillard’s concept of hyperreality describes a condition wherein the boundaries between reality and its simulated representations become indistinguishable. He states that ‘[i]t is the generation by models of a real without origin or reality’. In a state of hyperreality, adaptations and representations can assume greater significance and authenticity than the actual reality they depict. Consequently, the simulated experiences and images are perceived as more real and authentic than the tangible reality from which they originate. The hyperreality of film adaptations has been explored through the telling of historical narratives, nation-building and authenticity. Modern adaptations of historical events, especially when delivered through a contemporary lens, have the ability to reshape our understanding of the past. Art and entertainment permeate our consciousness, moulding our identities. Consequently, we become a reflection of what we engage with, and in a dialectical process, we subsequently reshape the world according to our transformed selves. Thus, entertainment facilitates tangible changes in the real world. These are the key ideas examined in this article.

Introduction A successful Internet meme entwines comedy with social commentary to make its point. This potent combination provides an accessible way for individuals to participate in public discourse. A sub-category of Internet meme are historic royal memes. These memes leverage shared historical knowledge to communicate ideas. This article examines memes that use imagery of past English and British monarchs from William the Conqueror (1066) to George VI (1952). It will provide illustrative analyses of memes that use Lady Jane Grey (1537-1554) and Richard III (1452-1485) as their inspiration to demonstrate how historic events are leveraged for both humour and social commentary. In doing so, it asks: what do historic royal memes reveal about how English and British monarchs are remembered in the popular imagination today? Findings reveal that on aggregate, monarchs are remembered more for their failings rather than their achievements, and that the politics of the past often mirror those of today. In this way, historic royal memes have much to tell us about our society today. Memes The focus of this study is on memes from the category ‘Internet memes’. Just what constitutes an Internet meme is not completely settled. For example, di Legge, Mantovani, and Meloni provide the broad definition “the term ‘Internet meme’ concerns a user generated content, i.e. a union of different semantic units (typically still images and text, or animated GIF, or a video), that spreads online and changes along the way” (Di Legge, Mantovani, and Meloni 409). Limor Shifman provides a definition based on memes as a corpus rather that a singular unit: "(a) a group of digital items sharing common characteristics of content, form, and/or stance; (b) that were created with awareness of each other; and (c) were circulated, imitated, and/or transformed via the Internet by many users" (Shifman "Humor"; Shifman Memes). Bradley E Wiggins provides a more nuanced description, stating that “the internet meme is … defined as a remixed, iterated message that can be rapidly diffused by members of participatory digital culture for the purpose of satire, parody, critique, or other discursive activity” (Wiggins 453). In particular, he notes that Internet memes “are heavily dependent, one might even say obsessed with parody and intertextuality and even intermemetic-referentiality (memes that refer to other memes)” (Wiggins 480). Memes in this context can enjoy either a short life-span or can be recycled for years. They can be static images, GIFs, or videos. They are often recycled or put into new contexts. Memes work especially well if they are a complete text within themselves; that is, as Nadia Agatha Pramesthi argues, “they do not have to occur in a conversation. They also do not depend on a special context for their interpretation" (Pramesthi 215). In her study of memes shared in the Reddit group r/HistoryMemes, Pramesthi found that many of the memes were easily understood outside the community by those who did not have specialised knowledge in history (Pramesthi 228). As anthropologist Daniel Miller puts it: “an internet meme must be easily understandable and reproducible. For a meme to exist successfully, it must catch on and be shared as often as possible” (Göke). The rising popularity of memes at the turn of the millennium can be connected to five principal facts, according to di Legge, Mantovani, and Meloni: the leverage for creating memes provided by graphics editing programs and the Internet; the adaptability to a wide range of uses, communicating jokes, emotions, advertisements; their ease of mastery, since most of them are made by using cut-copy, paste and text tool functions; the accessibility of memes, which depends on the accessibility of their habitat, the Internet; lastly, their transferability, relating to their most important quality, namely replicability in different cultures. (Di Legge, Mantovani, and Meloni 409). The comedic value of memes provides a safe way for individuals to engage in public debates, as Daniel Miller euphemistically puts it: “somebody who is quite shy and [doesn’t] want to express political views or opinions, [doesn’t] want to give religious opinions, they will send memes” (Borgerson and Miller 525). As a communication device, creating a meme is relatively easy, allowing for even the most casual Internet users to be able to participate in their creation and dissemination. There are even Websites such as Make A Meme.org, iloveIMG.com, and even Adobe which allow users to create memes with little knowledge of either graphic software or computer coding. Free and easy to use, you can create your own meme and publish it in just a few minutes. Maybe it will even go viral. As a cultural artefact, memes have several functions beyond humour. Daniel Miller argues that one of the primary functions of a meme is that they “basically denigrate what they don’t agree with or laud behavior they do agree with; so memes are what we call the moral police of the internet” (Borgerson and Miller 525). Knobel and Lankshear (218), in developing a typology of memes, provide several motivations for their creation, grouped under the umbrellas of social commentary, humour, expressing fandom, and creating hoaxes. For Valeriya Kalkina, “one particular function that memes fulfil in contemporary culture is mocking all subjects, for instance, our daily life, current political issues, historical events or famous personalities” (Kalkina 133). Di Legge, Mantovani, and Meloni argue that “memes, as part of popular culture, are first and foremost an accurate mirror of society, as they reflect the changes in our perception of a world in which humour seems to be [what Limor Shifman calls] the ’unique key for the understanding of social and cultural processes’” (Di Legge, Mantovani, and Meloni 417). Thus, rather than being the aim, humour is the medium through which memes make social statements. Limor Shifman found that most popular topics in Internet humour were global in their understanding: “sex, gender and animals” were the most prevalent, with more local topics such as “politics, sports and ethnicity” being less so (Shifman "Humor” 200). Shifman notes that “the Internet is a suitable medium for sexual jokes, as the anonymity and isolated reading process may encourage people who find it embarrassing to tell or hear sexual jokes in the ‘offline world’ to send or read them online. In addition – sex, maybe more than any other topic – is global in its nature” (Shifman "Humor” 201). While the assertion that sex is more “global in its nature” is arguable, Shifman’s conclusions posit the question: is the Internet an ideal forum for a range of jokes that would be socially embarrassing to participate in otherwise, for example racist or sexist humour? Internet memes have shifted the way we participate in social communication. Shifman argues that “three fundamental characteristics of the Internet come into play: Interactivity, multimedia, and global reach” (Shifman "Humor” 204). The hierarchy between joke-teller and audience found in legacy media such as television or on stage collapses here. Instead, the roles are fluid. Additionally, the original author is often anonymous, and may have only fleeting control over both the content and the dissemination of the meme. Audience members are free to take a meme and redistribute it, and transform it howsoever they wish. The meme becomes the creation of a loose coalition of individuals who may have only ever had fleeting contact through the meme. This leads to the phenomenon of transformation, where memes seem to take on a life of their own as they travel through culture. Their success, however, remains within their level of saliency: do the results remain instantly recognisable to the other members of the group? Shifman argues that there are three defining characteristics of online humour. The first is a feature she calls "highlighted incongruity”, using collage techniques to juxtapose elements into a single form. The second, the fusion of real and fiction within a meme, is what Shifman calls the ‘postmodern spirit’ of the genre (Shifman "Humor" 205). The third can be found in the “the comic commodification of celebrities. Many of the new texts focus on famous people, from various spheres such as sports, politics and entertainment. In this process, iconic images of celebrities are chopped into visual and audible pieces, which are then manipulated in order to generate scornful laughter” (Shifman "Humor" 205). Memes seemingly cover a diverse range of elements; however, Shifman found in a study of Youtube memes that there were “six such features common to a majority of the sampled texts: A focus on ordinary people, flawed masculinity, humor, simplicity, repetitiveness and whimsical content” (Shifman "Anatomy" 192). History Memes Royal history memes are a sub-category of history memes. The cultural significance of memes has resulted in calls for history memes to be taken seriously as a unit of study. Di Legge, Mantovani, and Meloni say that history memes' “popularity should be taken seriously as objects of curation and collection” and can reveal how “non-academic audiences play an important role in the representation of the past” (Di Legge, Mantovani, and Meloni 407-08). Prominent historical imagery is imbued with shared cultural knowledge that allows them to be exploited by meme-makers. From Soviet propaganda posters to art to sepia-tone photographs and black and white film, historic artefacts can be repurposed for the present. For example, Valeriya Kalkina found that “Soviet-related memes may provide a grass-roots re-conceptualisation of the Soviet past” (Kalkina), free from the original intended propaganda meanings. Di Legge, Mantovani, and Meloni note that “some memes can summarize – though in a simplified manner – even complex historical issues (Di Legge, Mantovani, and Meloni 412)”. Further, Makhortykh argues that “in the case of historical memes, it is not possible to ignore the large body of their offline precursors” (Makhortykh 70). In this vein, he states that historical memes can broadly be sorted into three categories: replications, transformations, and inventions. Replications reproduce pre-Internet era memes. Transformations are also based upon pre-Internet memes; however, they repackage the original: “such memes often acquire humorous features and serve as parodies that make fun of the meme’s original meaning” (Makhortykh 70). The third and final category is inventions, which do not have any off-line predecessors. In his study of Russian Second World War memes, Makhortykh found that while the boundaries of each category were not always clear, the majority of memes, approximately three quarters of them, fell into the first two categories, with replications being the largest category, accounting for about 55% of the memes. This suggests that shared cultural memory is an important factor in the success of a meme. AV Ramos argues that history memes are an understudied, yet important source of information about politics and culture today. His study of the memes designed by the US Republican party during Donald Trump’s election campaign attempted to position Trump as a defender of the American political traditions of freedom and liberty. By appropriating the imagery of the past, the past is made present to the viewer (Ramos 649). While history memes may seem inseparable from political memes, Mykola Makhortykh argues that historical memes should be seen as a distinct category as “historical memes are explicitly related to a particular historical event or personality and often refer to existing memory practices by satirising, strengthening or propagating them online” (Makhortykh 64). As a subcategory of historical memes, royal historical memes have not previously been studied in detail, which this project aims to address. British Royals in Memes There are two overarching visual categories of royal memes. The first features imagery of past queens and kings to make their point (e.g. historic paintings); the second uses contemporary images, often recycling other memes, in reference to these monarchs. For example, a meme based upon the c. 1592 ‘The Ditchley Portrait’ of Elizabeth I included the wording “because I’m all ‘bout that bass, no treble” from the 2014 body-positive pop song by Meghan Trainor, “All about That Bass”. The meaning is easily discernible here, even for those with scant knowledge of sixteenth-century fashion. We see instantly the wide skirt, held aloft by a farthingale (a hooped petticoat), and the flattened elongated trunk created by the bodice. The humour here also brings to the fore the changing social relationships with royalty. The Ditchley Portrait is an artefact of Elizabethan propaganda, one of its primary functions being to venerate the queen. The contemporary irreverence of the meme reveals both society’s changed relationship with royalty and our more tolerant political discourse. While respect for the monarchy remains for a portion of society, the relative anonymity of the Internet allows for more light-hearted critique of monarchy, often among those of a similar political persuasion. Memes often require knowledge of previous memes. For example, the cousin Throckmorton memes which proliferated after a tweet by @ChibsArts, who posted an image responding to a question posed in his physics textbook featuring “your cousin Throckmorton”, who is skateboarding “down a curved frictionless ramp”, and asking the students to ascertain his speed and “the force that acts upon him”, prompting the tweet asking “sorry, my cousin who?” The seemingly improbable name led to a number of memes celebrating the skater Throckmorton. According to knowyourmeme.com (Adam), one of the authors of the textbook, Roger Freeman, texted that the name Throckmorton itself was used in homage to a character on the classic American sitcom radio show The Great Gildersleeve, which ran between 1941 and 1958. So, imagine one history student’s delight when he found out that there was a Throckmorton involved in a 1583 Catholic plot to overthrow Elizabeth I and replace her with Mary Queen of Scots. The humour of this development works as it relies upon the element of surprise; readers can imagine that it is the same Throckmorton across each source. These memes are reductive in nature; they highlight what is remembered from each of these monarchs’ reigns. While it is outside the scope of this article, the wider research that this is part of finds that much of this knowledge is shaped by our cultural exposure to past monarchs, gleaned through a mix of popular culture and history lessons at school. Further, royalty itself has long been adept at propaganda, curating and reducing its own image into easily digestible pieces for consumption. These memes posit how the general public receive and understand these ideas. Some of the memes discussed here have a wide reach, whereas others have circulated among a smaller audience who participate in fora focussed on particular historic events. For these memes, audiences are assumed to have a high-level knowledge that is required to make the meme salient. The following two case studies illustrate how propaganda, humour, and political discourse come together in memes. Lady Jane Grey The Lady Jane Grey memes demonstrate how layers of meaning can combine in memes. This first set of memes leveraged the shockingly quick rise and fall of the young Lady Jane Grey (c. 1537-1554), known as the ‘nine day queen’. Grey, a great-niece of Henry VIII, was the figure-head of a plot to seize power after the death of the young Edward VI. Despite Henry having two daughters of his own, there was no precedence for a female monarch. Further, there was the complication of Henry’s many wives and the shadowy legitimacy of his daughters Mary and Elizabeth. Mary was arguably illegitimate, as her parents’ marriage was annulled. Elizabeth was the daughter of a traitor. Add in Mary’s Catholic status, and the conditions were ripe for a power play. This came in the form of teenage Lady Jane Grey, Henry’s niece, and was led by Jane’s father-in-law, the Duke of Northumberland, who was both protestant and legitimate. She also had the privilege of being name by Edward VI as his successor and had the support of the Privy Council. Jane went to the Tower of London to await her coronation. However, in a matter of days, support quickly switched to Mary. Jane’s reign lasted just 9 days and she would be executed the following year; she was aged just 16 or 17. Memes played upon the perception of the young queen being a puppet to political events. One meme uses a sixteenth-century Francois Colet portrait, embellished with the words “TFW [that feeling when] it wasn’t even your idea to be queen in the first place, but they behead you anyway”. Another meme recycles the William Dafoe Spiderman meme, with the words “when Edward VI dies and names you Queen but you only rule for 9 days before everyone betrays you in favour of Mary and you’re executed: You know, I’m something of a monarch myself”. The story of Lady Jane Grey has then been used in relation to events in modern politics. As an example, two of memes which illustrate the transformation of Delaroche’s masterpiece The Execution of Lady Jane Grey (1833) to political and social commentary are presented here. Created three hundred years after the event, the painting dramatically depicts the execution of Lady Jane Grey, based upon Delaroche's study of historic documents. The following two memes use this picture to comment on contemporary events. In the portrait Lady Jane Grey is blindfolded, a feature that inspired one memer to compare it to the ‘Birdbox Challenge’. In this meme, Delaroche’s painting is overlaid with the words “after being Queen of England for nine days, Lady Jane Grey takes the Birdbox Challenge”. The challenge, which involved participants filming themselves undertaking everyday tasks whilst blindfolded and uploading it to social media, was inspire by the Netflix film Birdbox, in which Sandra Bullock’s character must elude entities that kill through getting people to look at them. Hence, she makes her escape in a blindfold. The challenge went viral; however, safety concerns were raised when social media stars filmed themselves driving and walking through traffic whilst blindfolded (Andriani), risking a fate as tragic as Jane’s. A second meme is much more political in its tone. Here the painting is serving to highlight the parallels between the short tenures of Lady Jane and the British Prime Minister Liz Truss, but also to make commentary on the political machinations behind them. Truss had the ignominy of being the shortest-serving British Prime Minister. Her tenure lasted for just fifty days between September and October 2022, a consequence of her disastrous interim budget. In this scene, entitled erroneously “44 days a PM”, the faces of the key characters in the painting have been replaced by key political figures. Truss is Lady Jane Grey, the executioner is her successor Rishi Sunak. The recently deceased Elizabeth II and King Charles III watch on; if not active participants in the political execution, then at least unwilling to intervene. The parallel with the brutality of historic political events provides a lens through which those of the present can be interpreted. Rehabilitating Richard III The case of Richard III, who ruled for just a short period between 1483 and 1485, is an interesting example of how changes in knowledge can shift shared cultural understandings and depictions of historic events. Richard III has long lingered in cultural memory as the deformed, hunchbacked, and villainous king who killed his two young nephews, Edward V and his brother Richard, in order to claim the throne. They would become known as the Princes in the Tower, before they mysteriously vanishing in 1483. Richard III memes play on this perceived villainy, and he is one of the most ‘memed’ monarchs. Much of what is popularly known about Richard III is mediated through William Shakespeare’s titular play. Here, three memes demonstrate how knowledge of Richard is directly linked Shakespeare’s depiction of the King. Some memes humorously make a play on the malapropisms, or the misuse or mishearing of similar sounding words. Here the famous line from Shakespeare’s play about the king, “now is the winter of our discontent”, is variously reimagined as a ‘disco tent’ or a ‘discount tent’. Other memes make use of the political machinations attributed by Shakespeare to Richard. For example, one meme belongs to the ‘Gru’s plan’ category of memes. Gru is a character from the film series Despicable Me, featuring the hapless Gru explaining over four panels his plan before realising the fatal flaw in it. In the play, Richard III’s fatal flaw is his lack of horse at the Battle of Bosworth. The meme uses Gru as Richard III outlining the steps in his plan as 1) “murder people to get the crown”, 2) “murder more people to get the crown”, 3) “no horse available”, before Gru/Richard realises in the final panel that “no horse available” is the flaw. Shakespeare’s depiction of Richard III, however, has been critiqued as little more than Tudor propaganda. Written as an historical play by the playwright just over a hundred years after Richard's death, Shakespeare was influenced by the politics of the day and arguably wrote the play to suit a Tudor audience, with the resulting depiction of the Richard III a caricature. The ability of the Gru meme to distil this essence of Shakespeare’s political choices is instant and arguably relies on little actual knowledge of Tudor politics, relying instead on a broader knowledge of absolute monarchies of the mid-millennium. The negative image of Richard III has continually been culturally influenced by Shakespeare, as well as other forms of Tudor propaganda, a fact that is critiqued in a meme which depicts the playwright’s choice between writing plays which depict “historical accuracy” or “pleasing the current monarch”. The meme utilises images of the Sesame Street character Elmo, facing the choice between healthy fruit (“historical accuracy”) and white powder (“pleasing the current monarch”), which could be sugar, but could also be intended as a drug reference by the memer. Elmo buries his face in the white powder. The implication here is that aligning himself with royal propaganda is a prudent move for the playwright. Richard also has his memer defenders. For example, a meme created by Facebook user Roisoleil (whose name means “sun king’ in French) utilises a still from the BBC’s Horrible Histories (2009-) to depict a softer portrait of Richard III, adorned with white roses and a feathered hat. The accompanying text reads “when you are Richard III, but also a good chap”. While memes such as this suggest that Richard III has been rehabilitated in the eyes of some members of the public, historians would be more careful when exonerating Richard as the politics of the 1400s was very different, and much knowledge has also been lost. Richard may have been an inhabitant of the fifteenth century; he was brought into the twenty-first by the seemingly incongruous finding of his remains under a carpark in Leicester. Highlighted incongruence is what Shifman claims to be one of the factors that can make memes work well. One example here is a meme that repurposes the James William Edmund Doyle’s painting Richard Orders the Arrest of Hastings (1864). Here, a courtier is depicted asking “your majesty, may we build a parking lot” to which Richard replies “over my dead body!” Another example reworks key lyrics from Joni Mitchell’s Big Yellow Taxi (1970), stating “Richard III: Pave Plantagenet and put up a parking lot”. The use of a distinctive lyric here invites the reader to read the meme ‘songlike’ in their mind, leveraging mnemonic powers of music (Jakubowski). A third example takes a still from the first season of the BBC historical comedy Blackadder (1983), featuring the hapless Baldric with the (presumably) offscreen Blackadder chastising him “Really, Baldric. Under a carpark? That was your cunning plan?” This meme draws upon a reoccurring narrative device in Blackadder where Baldric introduces his solution to Blackadder’s current problem, prefaced with the line “I have a cunning plan…”, which the audience understood to be the precursor for an illogical absurdity. In the context of the meme, the illogical idea that anyone in the fifteenth century would conceive of hiding a body beneath a carpark, a structure not yet invented in its modern form, is drawn. While all three of these memes use different artefacts from popular culture to highlight the juxtaposition of a carpark with a royal tomb, they reveal how the social narrative of monarchy has been interrupted. Intertwining stories from popular culture help audiences to both understand and resolve this deviation from the norm. Conclusion Kings and Queens within memes are depicted more for their failings than their successes. As this history shows us, the crown was a ground of contestation for most of the past millennium, with monarchs from King Harold to Charles I, James II, and Edward VIII all having to relinquish their crowns. What this study reveals is that what is remembered in the popular consciousness is less aligned with the concept of the divine right of kings, and rather a history of poor behaviour, sexual proclivities, political disgrace, and the occasional support. David Mitchell, who recently published his own humorous history of British monarchs, Unruly (2023), commented in the Guardian: the medieval monarchy is a succession of brutes and fools, with the occasional foolish brute and one or two ruthlessly efficient tyrants. They fought, they fornicated, they murdered and they usually failed. Fundamentally that is the royal tradition. (Mitchell) The memes reviewed here reflect this. Rather than seeing our royal past as a dignified tradition, royalty have been remembered for their capriciousness, ruthlessness, and failings. References Adam. "Cousin Throckmorton." Know Your Meme 2020. Andriani, Ria. "Bird Box Challenge: Why Blindfolding Yourself and Walking into Walls Is Even More Stupid than It Sounds." The Guardian 8 Jan. 2019. Borgerson, Janet, and Daniel Miller. "Scalable Sociality and 'How the World Changed Social Media': Conversation with Daniel Miller." Consumption, Markets and Culture 19.6 (2016): 520-33. Dawkins, Richard. 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The story of Barbie is a tapestry woven with threads of cultural significance, societal shifts, and corporate narratives. It’s a tale that encapsulates the evolution of American post-war capitalism, mirroring the changing tides of social norms, aspirations, and identities. Barbie’s journey from Germany to Los Angeles, along the way becoming a global icon, is a testament to the power of Ruth Handler’s vision and Barbie’s marketing. Barbie embodies and reflects the rise of mass consumption and the early days of television advertising, where one doll could become a household name and shape the dreams of children worldwide. The controversies and criticisms surrounding Barbie – from promoting a ‘thin ideal’ to perpetuating gender and racial stereotypes – highlight the complexities of representation in popular culture. Yet, Barbie’s enduring message, “You can be anything”, continues to inspire and empower, even as it evolves to embrace a more inclusive and diverse portrayals of power, beauty, and potential. Barbie’s story is not just about a doll; it’s about the aspirations she represents, the societal changes she’s witnessed, and the ongoing conversation about her impact on gender roles, body image, and consumer culture. It’s a narrative that continues to unfold, as Barbie adapts to the times and remains a symbol of possibility. Barbie: A Popular Culture Icon “It is impossible to conceive of the toy industry as being anything other than dependent on a popular culture which shapes and structures the meanings carried by toys” (Fleming 40). The relationship between toys and popular culture is symbiotic. While popular culture influences the creation of toys, toys also contribute to the spread and longevity of cultural icons and narratives. Today, one of the most influential, popular, and contested toys of the twentieth century is Mattel’s Barbie doll. Her launch at the New York Toy Fair on 9 March 1959 by Mattel co-founder Ruth Handler was a game-changer in the toy industry. Her adult appearance, symbolised by her fashionable swimsuit and ponytail, was a bold move by Mattel. Despite the doubts from the toy industry which thought nobody would want to play with a doll that had breasts (Tamkin) and Mattel’s skepticism of its commercial success (Westenhouser 14), Barbie was a success, selling over 350,000 units in her first year, and she quickly became an iconic figure, paving the way for other male and female adult dolls. For the first time in mid-century America, Barbie meant children could play with a doll that looked like a woman, not a little girl or a baby. In a 1965 interview, Ruth Handler argued that American girls needed a doll with a “teen-age figure and a lot of glorious, imaginative, high-fashion clothes” (cited in Giacomin and Lubinski 3). In a 1993 interview, Handler said it was “important that Barbie allowed play situations that little girls could project themselves into … to imagine, pretend and to fantasize”. Hence Ruth Handler’s Barbie could be an “avatar for girls to project their dreams onto” (Southwell). Barbie hit the market with a “sassy ponytail, heavy eyeliner, a healthy dose of side-eye and a distinctly adult body” (Blackmore). Her arched eyebrows were matched with a coy sideways glance reflecting her sexual origins (Thong). Mattel did not reveal that Ruth Handler’s Barbie was inspired by a German novelty men’s toy, Bild Lilli, which Handler had purchased on a European holiday in 1955. Mattel fought several lawsuits and eventually secured the rights to Bild Lilli in 1964, which required the German maker of the Bild Lilli doll to not make her again. Barbie dolls, both blonde and brunette, changed little until 1967, when Mattel launch the ‘new’ Barbie doll which is the foundation for today’s Stereotypical Barbie. The same size as the original, thanks to Mattel engineer Jack Ryan she could twist and turn at the waist. Her facial features were softened, she had ‘real’ eyelashes’ and took on an ‘outdoor look’. The new 1967 version of Barbie originally retailed for US$3.00. Mattel, assuming consumers may not want to buy a new Barbie when they already had one, offered buyers the new Barbie at US$1.50 if they traded in their old 1950s Barbie. The television advertising campaign for the new Barbie featured Maureen McMormick (who would go on to play Marcia Brady in the TV series The Brady Bunch from 1969 to 1974). The original #1 Barbie today sells for over US$25,000 (Reinhard). The most expensive Barbie sold to date was a Stefano Canturi-designed Barbie that sold in 2010 for US$302,500 at Christies in New York (Clarendon). Barbie has been described as “the most successful doll in history”, “the most popular toy in history”, the “empress of fashion dolls” (Rogers 86), the “most famous doll in the world” (Ferorelli), the biggest-selling fashion doll in history (Green and Gellene), and is one if the world’s “most commercially successful toys” (Fleming 41). Barbie is both “idealistic and materialistic” and characterises an “American fantasy” (Tamkin). More so, she is a popular culture icon and “a unique indicator of women’s history” (Vander Bent). The inclusion of Barbie in America’s twentieth-century Time Capsule “cemented her status as a true American icon” (Ford), as did Andy Warhol when he iconised Barbie in his 1968 painting of her (Moore). During the 1950s and 1960s, Barbie’s name was licenced to over 100 companies; while a strategic move that expanded Barbie’s brand presence, it also provided Mattel with substantial royalty payments for decades. This approach helped solidify Barbie’s status as a cultural icon and enabled her to become a lucrative asset for Mattel (Rogers). Sixty-five years later, Barbie has 99% global brand awareness. In 2021, Mattel shipped more than 86 million Barbies globally, manufacturing 164 Barbies a minute (Tomkins). In 2022, Barbie generated gross sales of US$1.49 billion (Statista 2023). With this fiscal longevity and brand recognition, the success of the Barbie film is not surprising. The 2023 film, directed by Greta Gerwig and starring Australian Margot Robbie as Barbie and Canadian Ryan Gosling as Ken, as of March 2024 has a global box office revenue of US$1.45 billion, making it the 14th most successful movie of all time and the most successful movie directed by a woman (Statista 2024). Contested Barbie Despite her popularity, Barbie has been the subject of controversy. Original Barbie’s proportions have been criticised for promoting an unrealistic body image (Thong). Barbie’s appearance has received numerous critiques for “representing an unrealistic beauty standard through its former limited skin tone and hair combination” (Lopez). The original Barbie’s measurements, if scaled to life-size, would mean Barbie is unusually tall and has a slim figure, with a height of 5 feet 9 inches, a waist of just 18 inches, and hips of approximately 33 inches. Her bust would measure around 32 inches with an under-bust of 22 inches, and her shoulder width would be approximately 28 inches. Original Barbie’s legs, which are proportionally longer than an average human’s, would make up more than half her height (Thong). A 1996 Australian study scaled Barbie and Ken to adult sizes and compared this with the physical proportions of a range of women and men. They found that the likelihood of finding a man of comparable shape to Ken was 1 in 50. Barbie was more problematic. The chance of a woman being the same proportion as Barbie was 1 in 100,000 (Norton et al. 287). In 2011, The Huffington Post’s Galia Slayen built a life-sized Barbie based on Barbie’s body measurements for National Eating Disorder Awareness Week. Slayen concluded that “if Barbie was a real woman, she’d have to walk on all fours due to her proportions”. One report found that if Barbie’s measurements were those of a real woman her “bones would be so frail, it would be impossible for her to walk, and she would only have half a liver” (Golgowski). A 2006 study found that Barbie is a “possible cause” for young girls’ “body dissatisfaction”. In this study, 162 girls from age 5 to 8 were exposed to images of a thin doll (Barbie), a plus-size doll (US doll Emme, size 16), or no doll, and then completed assessments of body image. Girls exposed to Barbie reported “lower body esteem and greater desire for a thinner body shape than girls in the other exposure conditions”. The study concluded that “early exposure to dolls epitomizing an unrealistically thin body ideal may damage girls' body image, which would contribute to an increased risk of disordered eating and weight cycling” (Dittman and Halliwell 283). Another study in 2016 found that “exposure to Barbie” led to “higher thin-ideal internalization”, but found that Barbie had no “impact on body esteem or body dissatisfaction” (Rice et al. 142). In response to such criticism, Mattel slowly introduced a variety of Barbie dolls with more diverse body types, including tall, petite, and curvy models (Tamkin). These changes aim to reflect a broader range of beauty standards and promote a more positive body image. Barbie has always had to accommodate social norms. For this reason, Barbie always must have underpants, and has no nipples. One of the reasons why Ruth Handler’s husband Elliott (also a co-founder of Mattel) was initially against producing the Barbie doll was that she had breasts, reportedly saying mothers would not buy their daughters a doll with breasts (Gerber). Margot Robbie, on playing Barbie, told one news outlet that while Barbie is “sexualized”, she “should never be sexy” (Aguirre). Early prototypes of Barbie made in Japan in the 1950s sexualised her body, leaving her to look like a prostitute. In response, Mattel hired film make-up artist Bud Westmore to redo Barbie’s face and hair with a softer look. Mattel also removed the nipples from the prototypes (Gerber). Barbie’s body and fashion have always seemed to “replicate history and show what was what was happening at the time” (Mowbray), and they also reflect how the female body is continually surveilled. Feminists have had a long history of criticism of Barbie, particularly her projection of the thin ideal. At the 1970 New York Women’s Strike for Equality, feminists shouted “I am not a Barbie doll!” Such debates exemplify the role and impact of toys in shaping and reforming societal norms and expectations. Even the more recent debates regarding the 2023 Barbie film show that Barbie is still a “lightning rod for the messy, knotty contradictions of feminism, sexism, misogyny and body image” (Chappet). Decades of criticism about Barbie, her meaning and influence, have left some to ask “Is Barbie a feminist icon, or a doll which props up the patriarchy?” Of course, she’s both, because “like all real women, Barbie has always been expected to conform to impossible standards” (Chappet). Diversifying Barbie Over the decades Mattel has slowly changed Barbie’s body, including early versions of a black Barbie-like dolls in the 1960s and 1970s such as Francie, Christie, Julia, and Cara. However, it was not until 1980 that Mattel introduced the first black Barbie. African American fashion designer Kitty Black-Perkins, who worked for Mattel from 1971, was the principal designer for black Barbie, saying that “there was a need for the little Black girl to really have something she could play with that looked like her” (cited in Lafond). Black Barbie was marketed as She’s black! She’s beautiful! She’s dynamite! The following year, Asian Barbie was introduced. She was criticised for her nondescript country of origin and dressed in an “outfit that was a mishmash of Chinese, Korean and Japanese ethnic costumes” (Wong). More recently, the Asian Barbies were again criticised for portraying stereotypes, with a recent Asian Barbie dressed as a veterinarian caring for pandas, and Asian violinist Barbie with accompanying violin props, reflecting typical stereotypes of Asians in the US (Wong). In 2016, Mattel introduced a range of Barbie and Ken dolls with seven body types, including more curvy body shapes, 11 skin tones and 28 hairstyles (Siazon). In 2019, other Barbie body types appeared, with smaller busts, less defined waist, and more defined arms. The 2019 range also included Barbies with permanent physical disabilities, one using a wheelchair and one with a prosthetic leg (Siazon). Wheelchair Barbie comes with a wheelchair, and her body has 22 joints for body movement while sitting in the wheelchair. The Prosthetic Barbie comes with a prosthetic leg which can be removed, and was made in collaboration with Jordan Reeve, a 13-year-old disability activist born without a left forearm. In 2020, a No Hair Barbie and a Barbie with the skin condition vitiligo were introduced, and in 2022, Hearing Aid Barbie was also launched. In 2022 other changes were made to Barbie’s and Ken’s bodies, with bodies that became fuller figured and Kens with smaller chests and less masculine body shapes (Dolan). Down Syndrome Barbie was released in 2023, designed in collaboration with the US National Down Syndrome Society to ensure accurate representation. By 2024, Barbie dolls come in 35 skin tones, 97 hairstyles, and nine body types (Mattel 2024). Spanning hundreds of iterations, today the Barbie doll is no longer a homogenous, blond-haired, blue-eyed toy, but rather an evolving social phenomenon, adapting with the times and the markets Mattel expands into. With dolls of numerous ethnicities and body types, Barbie has also embraced inclusivity, catering to the plethora of different consumers across the world (Green and Gellene 1989). Career Barbie While not dismissing Barbie’s problematic place in feminist, gender and racial critiques, Barbie has always been a social influencer. Her early years were marked by a variety of makeovers and modernisations, as have recent changes to Barbie’s body, reflecting the changing social norms of the times. Stereotypical Barbie had her first major makeover in 1961, with her ponytail swapped for a short ‘Bubble Bob’ hairstyle inspired by Jackie Kennedy and Marilyn Monroe, reflecting women’s emerging social independence (Foreman). In the early 1970s, Barbie’s original demure face with averted eyes was replaced by a new one that “depicted confidence and a forward-facing gaze” (Vander Bent). Her “soft look” was a departure from the mature image of the original 1959 Barbie (Lafond). The ‘soft look’ on Malibu Barbie with her newly sculpted face featured an open smile for the first time, as well as sun-tanned, make-up free skin and sun-kissed blonde hair. The disappearance of Barbie’s coy, sideways glance and the introduction of forward-looking eyes was a development “welcomed by feminists” (Ford). Barbie’s early makeovers, along with her fashion and accessories, including her homes, cars, and pets, contributed to shaping her image as a fashionable and independent woman. Barbie’s various careers and roles have been used to promote ideas of female empowerment. From astronaut to presidential candidate, Barbie has broken barriers in traditionally male-dominated fields. However, the effectiveness of these efforts in promoting female empowerment is a topic of debate. The post-war period in America saw a significant shift in the pattern of living, with a move from urban areas to the suburbs. This was facilitated by a robust post-war economy, favourable government policies like the GI Bill, and increasing urbanisation. The GI Bill played a crucial role by providing low-interest home loans to veterans, making home ownership accessible to a large segment of the population. It was a significant transformation of the American lifestyle and shaped the country’s socio-economic landscape. It is in this context that Barbie’s first Dreamhouse was introduced in the early 1960s, with its mid-century modern décor, hi-fi stereo, and slim-line furniture. This was at a time when most American women could not get a mortgage. Barbie got her first car in 1962, a peach-colored Austin-Healey 3000 MKII convertible, followed short afterwards by a Porsche 911. She has also owned a pink Jaguar XJS, a pink Mustang, a red Ferrari, and a Corvette. Barbie’s car choices of luxurious convertibles spoke to Barbie’s social and economic success. In 1998, Barbie became a NASCAR driver and also signed up to race in a Ferrari in the Formula 1. Barbie’s ‘I Can Be Anything’ range from 2008 was designed to draw kids playing with the dolls toward ambitious careers; one of those careers was as a race car driver (Southwell). While Barbie’s first job as a baby-sitter was not as glamourous or well-paying as her most of her other over 250 careers, it does reflect the cultural landscape Barbie was living in in the 1960s. Babysitter Barbie (1963) featured Barbie wearing a long, pink-striped skirt with ‘babysitter’ emblasoned along the hem and thick-framed glasses. She came with a baby in a crib, a telephone, bottles of soda, and a book. The book was called How to Lose Weight and had only two words of advice, ‘Don’t Eat’. Even though there was a backlash to the extreme dieting advice, Mattel included the book in the 1965 Slumber Party Barbie. Barbie wore pink silk pajamas with a matching robe and came prepared for her sleepover with toiletries, a mirror, the controversial diet book, and a set of scales permanently set at 110 pounds (approx. 50kg), which caused further backlash (Ford). Barbie’s early careers were those either acceptable or accessible to women of the era, such as the Fashion Designer Barbie (1960), Flight Attendant Barbie (1961), and Nurse Barbie (1962). However, in 1965 Barbie went into space, two years after cosmonaut Valentina Tereshkova became the first woman in space, and four years before the American moon landing. Barbie’s career stagnated in the 1970s, and she spends the decade being sports Barbie, perhaps as a response to her unpopularity among vocal second wave feminists and reflecting the economic downturn of the era. America’s shift to the right in the 1980s saw in the introduction of the Yuppie, the young urban professional who lived in the city, had a high-powered career, and was consumption-driven. More women were entering the workforce than ever before. Barbie also entered the workforce, spending less time doing the passive leisure of her earlier self (Ford). It also signals the beginning of neoliberalism in America, and a shift to individualism and the rise of the free market ethos. In 1985, Day-to-Night Barbie was sold as the first CEO Barbie who “could go from running the boardroom in her pink power suit to a fun night out on the town”. For Mattel she “celebrated the workplace evolution of the era and showed girls they could have it all”. But despite Barbie’s early careers, the focus was on her "emphasized femininity”, meaning that while she was now a career woman, her appearance and demeanor did not reflect her job. Astronaut Barbie (1985) is a good example of Barbie’s ‘emphasised femininity’ in how career Barbies were designed and dressed. Astronaut Barbie is clearly reflecting the fashion and culture trends of the 1980s by going into space in a “shiny, hot pink spacesuit”, comes with a second space outfit, a shiny “peplum miniskirt worn over silver leggings and knee-high pink boots” (Bertschi), and her hair is too big to fit into the helmet. A dark-skinned US Astronaut Barbie was released in 1994, which coincided with the start of the Shuttle-Mir Program, a collaboration between the US and Russia which between 1994 and 1998 would see seven American astronauts spend almost 1,000 days living in orbit with Russian cosmonauts on the Mir space station. Throughout the 1990s, Barbie increasingly takes on careers more typically considered to be male careers. But again, her femininity in design, dressing and packaging takes precedence over her career. Police Officer Barbie (1993), for example, has no gun or handcuffs. Instead, she comes with a "glittery evening dress" to wear to the awards dance where she will get the "Best Police Officer Award for her courageous acts in the community”. Police Office Barbie is pictured on the box "lov[ing] to teach safety tips to children". Barbie thus “feminizes, even maternalises, law enforcement” (Rogers 14). In 1992, Teen Talk Barbie was released. She had a voice box programmed to speak four distinct phrases out of a possible 270. She sold for US$25, and Mattel produced 350,000, expecting its popularity. The phrases included ‘I Love Shopping’ and ‘Math class is tough’. The phrase ‘Math class is tough’ was seen by many as reinforcing harmful stereotypes about girls and math. The National Council of American Teachers of Maths objected, as did the American Association of University Women (NYT 1992). In response to criticisms of the gendered representations of Barbie’s careers, Mattel have more recently featured Barbie in science and technology fields including Paleontologist Barbie (1996 and 2012), Computer Engineer Barbie (2010), Robotics Engineer Barbie (2018), Astrophysicist Barbie (2019), Wildlife Conservationist Barbie, Entomologist Barbie (2019), and Polar Marine Biologist Barbie (all in collaboration with National Geographic), Robotics Engineer Barbie (2018), Zoologist Barbie (2021), and Renewable Energy Barbie (2022), which go some way to providing representations that at least encompass the ideal that ‘Girls Can Do Anything’. Barbie over her lifetime has also taken on swimming, track and field, and has been a gymnast. Barbie was an Olympic gold medallist in the 1970s, with Mattel releasing four Barbie Olympians between 1975 and 1976, arguably cashing in on the 1976 Montreal Olympics. Gold Medal Barbie Doll Skier was dressed in a red, white, and blue ski suit completed with her gold medal. Gold Medal Barbie Doll is an Olympic swimmer wearing a red, white, and blue tricot swimsuit, and again wears an Olympic gold medal around her neck. The doll was also produced as a Canadian Olympian wearing a red and white swimsuit. Gold Medal Barbie Skater looks like Barbie Malibu and is dressed in a long-sleeved, pleated dress in red, white, and blue. The outfit included white ice skates and her gold medal. Mattel also made a Gold Medal P.J. Gymnast Doll who vaulted and somersaulted in a leotard of red, white, and blue tricot. She had a warm-up jacket with white sleeves, red cuffs, white slippers, and a gold medal. Mattel, as part of a licencing agreement with the International Olympic Committee, produced a range of toys for the 2020 Tokyo Olympics. The collection of five Barbies represented the new sports added to the 2020 Olympics: baseball and softball, sport climbing, karate, skateboarding, and surfing. Each Barbie was dressed in a sport-specific uniform and had a gold medal. Barbie Olympic Games Tokyo 2020 Surfer, for example, was dressed in a pink wetsuit top, with an orange surfboard and a Tokyo 2020 jacket. For the 2022 Winter Olympics and Paralympics, Mattel released a new collection of Barbie dolls featuring among others a para-skiing Barbie who sits on adaptive skis and comes with a championship medal (Douglas). As part of Mattel’s 2023 Barbie Career of the Year doll, the Women in Sports Barbie range shows Barbie in leadership roles in the sports industry, as manager, coach, referee, and sport reporter. General Manager Barbie wears a blue-and-white pinstripe suit accessorised with her staff pass and a smartphone. Coach Barbie has a pink megaphone, playbook, and wears a two-piece pink jacket and athletic shorts. Referee Barbie wears a headset and has a whistle. Sports Reporter Barbie wears a purple, geometric-patterned dress and carries a pink tablet and microphone (Jones). Political Barbie Barbie has run for president in every election year since 1992. The first President Barbie came with an American-themed dress for an inaugural ball and a red suit for her duties in the Oval Office. In 2016, Barbie released an all-female presidential ticket campaign set with a president and vice-president doll. The 2000 President Barbie doll wore a blue pantsuit and featured a short bob cut, red lipstick pearl necklace, and a red gown to change into, “presumably for President Barbie’s inaugural ball” (Lafond). This followed the introduction of UNICEF Ambassador Barbie in 1989. She is packaged as a member of the United States Committee for UNICEF (United Nations International Children’s Emergency Fund), which is mandated to provide humanitarian and development aid to children worldwide. Rather problematically, and again with a focus on her femininity rather than the importance of the organisation she represents, she wears a glittery white and blue full length ball gown with star patterning and a red sash. While some proceeds did go to the US Committee for UNICEF, the dressing and packaging featuring an American flag overshadows the career and its philanthropic message. The period signalled the end of the Cold War and was also the year the United States invaded Panama, resulting in a humanitarian disaster when US military forces attacked urban areas in order to overthrow the Noriega administration. Military Barbie Barbie has served in every US military branch (Sicard). Barbie joined the US army in 1989, wearing a female officer’s evening uniform, though with no sense of what she did. While it may be thought Barbie would increase female in interest in a military career, at the time more women were already enlisting that in any other period from the early 1970s to 2012 (Stillwell). Barbie rejoined the army for the 1990-1991 Gulf War, wearing a Desert Combat Uniform and the 101st Airborne "Screaming Eagle" patch, and serving as a medic. Barbie also joined the Air Force in 1990, three years before Jeannie Leavitt became the first female Air Force fighter pilot. Barbie wore a green flight suit and leather jacket, and gold-trimmed flight cap. She was a fighter pilot and in 1994, she joined the USAF aerial demonstration team, The Thunderbirds. Busy in the 1990s, she also enlisted in the US Navy wearing women's Navy whites. Marine Corps Barbie appeared in 1992, wearing service and conduct medals (Stillwell). All of Barbie’s uniforms were approved by the Pentagon (Military Women’s Memorial). The 2000 Paratrooper Barbie Special Edition was released with the packaging declaring “let’s make a support drop with first aid and food boxes”. She was dressed in undefined military attire which includes a helmet, dog tags, parachute, boots, and hairbrush. Barbie’s Influence In 2014, Barbie became a social media influencer with the launch of the @barbiestyle Instagram account, and in 2015, Barbie launched a vlog on YouTube to talk directly to girls about issues they face. The animated series features Barbie discussing a range of topics including depression, bullying, the health benefits of meditation, and how girls have a habit of apologising when they don’t have anything to be sorry about. The Official @Barbie YouTube channel has over eleven million global subscribers and 23 billion minutes of content watched, making Barbie the #1 girls’ brand on YouTube. Barbie apps average more than 7 million monthly active users and the Instagram count boasts over 2 million followers. The 2023 Barbie film really does attest to Barbie’s influence 70 years after her debut. Barbie, as this article has shown, is more than an influencer and more than a doll, if she ever really was only a doll. She is a popular culture icon, regardless of whether we love her or not. Barbie has sometimes been ahead of the game, and sometimes has been problematically represented, but she has always been influential. Her body, race, ability, careers, independence, and political aspirations have spoken different things to those who play with her. She is fiercely defended, strongly criticised, and shirks from neither. She is also liberating, empowering, straight, and queer. As the articles in this issue reflect, Barbie, it seems, really can be anything. Imagining and Interrogating Barbie in Popular Culture The feature article in this issue outlines how Australian Barbie fans in the 1960s expressed their creativity through the designing and making of their own wardrobes for the doll. Through examining articles from the Australian Women’s Weekly, Donna Lee Brien reveals this rich cultural engagement that was partly driven by thrift, and mostly by enjoyment. Eva Boesenberg examines the social and environmental effects of a plastic doll that is positioned as an ecological ambassador. While there is no doubt that climate change is one of our most pressing social issues, Boesenberg questions the motivations behind Barbie’s eco-crusade: is she an apt role-model to teach children the importance of environmental issues, or is this just a case of corporate greenwashing? Emma Caroll Hudson shifts the focus to entertainment, with an exploration of the marketing of the 2023 blockbuster film Barbie. Here she argues that the marketing campaign was highly successful, utilising a multi-faceted approach centred on fan participation. She highlights key components of the campaign to reveal valuable insights into how marketing can foster a cultural phenomenon. Revna Altiok’s article zooms in on the depiction of Ken in the 2023 film, revealing his characterisation to be that of a ‘manic pixie dream boy’ whose lack of identity propels him on a journey to self-discovery. This positioning, argues Altiok, pulls into focus social questions around gender dynamics and how progress can be truly achieved. Rachel Wang turns the spotlight to Asian identity within the Barbie world, revealing how from early iterations a vague ‘Oriental’ Barbie was accompanied by cultural stereotyping. Despite later, more nuanced interpretations of country-specific Asian dolls, problematic features remained embedded. This, Wang argues, positions Asian Barbies as the racial ‘other’. Kaela Joseph, Tanya Cook, and Alena Karkanias’s article examines how the 2023 Barbie film reflects different forms of fandom. Firstly, Joseph interrogates how the Kens’ patriarchal identity is expressed through acts of collective affirmational fandom. Here, individual fans legitimise their positions within the group by mastering and demonstrating their knowledge of popular culture phenomena. Joseph contrasts this with transformational fandom, which is based upon reimagining the source material to create new forms. The transformation of the titular character of the Barbie movie forms the basis of Eli S’s analysis. S examines how the metaphor of ‘unboxing’ the doll provides an avenue through which to understand Barbie’s metamorphosis from constrained doll to aware human as she journeys from the pink plastic Barbie Land to the Real World. Anna Temel turns her critical gaze to how the 2023 film attempts to reposition Barbie’s image away from gender stereotypes to a symbol of feminist empowerment. Director Greta Gerwig, Temel argues, critiques the ‘ideal woman’ and positions Barbie as a vehicle through which contemporary feminism and womanhood can be interrogated. Temel finds that this is not always successfully articulated in the depiction of Barbie in the film. The reading of the Barbie movie’s Barbie Land as an Asexual Utopia is the focus of Anna Maria Broussard’s article. Here Broussard draws the focus to the harmonious community of dolls who live without social expectations of sexuality. Barbie provides a popular culture reflection of the Asexual experience, expressed through Barbie’s rejection of a heteronormative relationship both in Barbie Land and the Real World. Completing this collection is Daisy McManaman’s article interrogating the multiple iterations of the doll’s embodied femininity. Incorporating an ethnographic study of the author’s relationship with the doll, McManaman uncovers that Barbie serves as a site of queer joy and a role model through which to enjoy and explore femininity and gender. These articles have been both intellectually stimulating to edit, and a joy. We hope you enjoy this collection that brings a new academic lens to the popular cultural phenomenon that is Barbie. References Aguirre, Abby. “Barbiemania! Margot Robbie Opens Up about the Movie Everyone’s Waiting For.” Vogue, 24 May 2023. 16 Mar. 2024 . Bertschi, Jenna. “Barbie: An Astronaut for the Ages.” Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum, 18 Jul. 2023. 11 Mar. 2024 . Blackmore, Erin. “Barbie’s Secret Sister Was a German Novelty Doll.” History.com, 14 Jul. 2023. 11 mar. 2024 . Chappet, Marie-Claire. “Why Is Barbie So Controversial? How Ever-Changing Standards for Women Have Affected the Famous Doll.” Harpers Bazaar, 18 Jul. 2023. 11 Mar. 2024 . Clarendon, Dan. “The Most Valuable Barbie Doll Auctioned for $302,500 — Which Others Carry Value?” Market Realist, 14 Apr. 2023. 15 Mar. 2o24 . Dittman, Helga, and Emma Halliwell. “Does Barbie Make Girls Want to Be Thin? The Effect of Experimental Exposure to Images of Dolls on the Body Image of 5- to 8-Year Old Girls.” Developmental Psychology 42.2 (2006): 283-292. DOI: 10.1037/0012-1649.42.2.283. Dolan, Leah. “Barbie Unveils Its First-Ever Doll with Hearing Aids.” CNN, 11 May 2022. 16 Mar. 2024 . Douglas, Kelly. “Why the New Para Skiing Barbie Is Groundbreaking for Disability Representation.” The Mighty, 21 Oct. 2023. 25 Mar. 2024 . Ferorelli, Enrico. “Barbie Turns 21.” Life, Nov. 1979. 15 Mar. 2024 . Fleming, Dan. Powerplay: Toys as Popular Culture. Manchester: Manchester UP, 1996. Ford, Toni Marie. “The History of the Barbie Doll.” Culture Trip, 6 Oct. 2016. 16 Mar. 2024 . Foreman, Katya. “The Changing Faces of Barbie.” BBC, 11 May 2016. 16 Mar. 2024 . Gerber, Ruth. Barbie and Ruth: The Story of the World's Most Famous Doll and the Woman Who Created Her. HarperCollins, 2009. Giacomin, Valeria, and Christina Lubinski. 2023. “Entrepreneurship as Emancipation: Ruth Handler and the Entrepreneurial Process ‘in Time’ and ‘over Time’, 1930s–1980s.” Business History Online. 20 Mar. 2024 . Golgowski, Nina. “Bones So Frail It Would Be Impossible to Walk and Room for Only Half a Liver: Shocking Research Reveals What Life Would Be Like If a REAL Woman Had Barbie's body.” Daily Mirror, 14 Apr. 2013. 19 Mar. 2024 . Green, Michelle, and Denise Gellene. “As a Tiny Plastic Star Turns 30, the Real Barbie and Ken Reflect on Life in the Shadow of the Dolls.” People, 6 Mar. 1989. 15 Mar. 2024 . Jones, Alexis. “Barbie's New 'Women in Sports' Dolls Are a Major Win For Athletes and Fans.” Popsugar, 9 Aug. 2023. 17 Mar. 2024 . Lafond, Hannah. “How Barbies Have Changed over the Years.” The List, 7 Jul. 2023. 16 Mar. 2024 . Lopez, Sandra. “10 Barbie Dolls Inspired by Real-Life Iconic Latinas.” Remezcla, 19 Jul. 2023. 20 Mar. 2024 . Military Women’s Memorial. “Barbie Enlists.” 15 Mar. 2024 . Moore, Hannah. “Why Warhol Painted Barbie.” BBC, 1 Oct. 2015. 15 Mar. 2024 . Mowbray, Nicole. “Dressing Barbie: Meet the Designer Who Created a Miniature Fashion Icon.” CNN, 14 Jul. 2023. 17 Mar. 2024 . New York Times. “Mattel Says It Erred; Teen Talk Barbie Turns Silent on Math." 21 Oct. 1992. 20 Mar. 2024 . Norton, Kevin, et al. “Ken and Barbie at Life Size.” Sex Roles 34 (1996): 287-294. https://doi.org/10.1007/BF01544300. Reinhard, Abby. “Here's How Much Your Childhood Barbies Are Really Worth Now, New Data Shows.” Best Life, 14 Jul. 2023. 15 Mar. 2024 . Rice, Karlie, et al. “Exposure to Barbie: Effects on Thin-Ideal Internalisation, Body Esteem, and Body Dissatisfaction among Young Girls.” Body Image 19 (2016): 142-149. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.bodyim.2016.09.005. Rogers, Mary, F. Barbie Culture. Sage, 1999. Siazon, Kevin John. “The New 2019 Barbie Fashionistas Are More Diverse than Ever.” Today’s Parents, 12 Feb. 2019. 19 Mar. 2024 . Sicard. Sarah. “A Few Good Dolls: Barbie Has Served in Every Military Branch.” Military Times, 28 Jul. 2023. 15 Mar. 2024 . Slayen, Galia. “The Scary Reality of a Real-Life Barbie Doll.” Huffington Post, 8 Apr. 2011. 19 Mar. 2024 . Southwell, Haxel. “Plastic on Track: Barbie's History in Motorsport”. Road and Track, 21 Jul. 2023. 15 Mar. 2024 . Statista. “Gross Sales of Mattel's Barbie Brand Worldwide from 2012 to 2022.” 2023. 16 Mar. 2024 . ———. “Highest-Grossing Movies of All Time as of 2024.” 2024. 31 May 2024 . Stillwell, Blake. “Barbie and Ken Went to War Long before the 'Barbie' Movie.” Military.com, 26 Jul. 2023. 15 Mar. 2024 . Tamkin, Emily. Cultural History of Barbie.” Smithsonian, 23 Jun. 2023. 17 Mar. 2024 . Thong, Hang. “Barbie’s Doll Dimensions.” OmniSize, 29 Nov. 2023. 19 Mar. 2024 . Vander Bent, Emily. “The Evolution of Barbie: A Marker for Women’s History.” Girl Museum, 12 Apr. 2021. 16 Mar. 2024 . Westenhouser, Kitturah B. The Story of Barbie. Collector Books, 1994. Wong, Bryan. “Daniel Wu Slams Barbie Maker Mattel for Stereotyping Asians as ‘Panda Doctors’ and ‘Violinists.’” Today Online, 24 Jan. 2024. 16 Mar. 2024 .

A small, but revealing, set of Second World War newsreels exist that feature the pilots of the Air Transport Auxiliary (ATA). Newsreels are an important source of knowledge about the ideology of authorities in wartime Britain. The immense popularity of the cinema meant that newsreels became an important way for the government to communicate with the general public about the progress of the war and also to recruit them into war service. The war was labour intensive, and the government followed a number of initiatives to maximise combat personnel, most notably the widespread employment of women in supporting military roles. The ATA was established to provide a pool of pilots to undertake essential, but not combat, flying during the war. It was made up of pilots who were deemed unfit to serve in the Royal Air Force, a determination that allowed women, by dint of not being male, to join its ranks. The British government were keen to utilise women yet at the same time retain social norms that position employment outside the home as “man's work”. An examination of extant Second World War newsreels reveals that women pilots were initially positioned as a novelty, undertaking lighter, less serious duties than their male counterparts whilst dressed in feminine attire. As the war progressed this shifted rapidly to a recognition that the women were undertaking serious work on par with their male colleagues.

Perhaps it is apt that people who knit and sew are drawn to solving puzzles, including fictional and actual crimes. The word clew is an archaic spelling of our modern-day clue. It is derived from the old English cliwen or cleowen, meaning a ball of thread. It may also be a nod to the ball of yarn that Theseus used to escape from the minotaur’s labyrinth in Greek legend. Without his clew, Theseus would have no clue how to escape the labyrinth. Its modern-day association with detective work first began with Edgar Allen Poe’s detective C. Auguste Dupin who followed ‘clues’ to solve his crimes and was popularized by Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes stories. In the past, and more recently fictional and real-life detectives follow clues to solve crimes, and many of them are crafty. This article considers how adaptative the mediums of knitting and sewing are when they are freed from their utilitarian or creative purpose and instead becomes a device to solve crimes.

The word ‘uniform’ can be a noun, adjective, or verb. As a noun it relates to prescribed dress, often in occupational settings. As an adjective it relates the sameness between objects and thoughts. As a verb it means to make the same. Underlying each grammatical usage is the concept sameness, to align thoughts, ideas, and physicality. In society where heightened individualism is a key characteristic, the persistence of ‘uniform-ness’ is an intriguing area of research. This issue of M/C Journal embraces the range of meanings that word uniform encompasses, and examines how they present in our culture(s) and how they are represented in the media. In the opening to their book Uniform: Clothing and Discipline in the Modern World, Jane Tynan and Lisa Godson argue that “as state, society, and nation converged towards the end of the nineteenth century uniform became part of a modern culture increasingly concerned with regulating time, space, and bodies” (Tynan and Godson 6). The modern state demanded uniformity of ideas and thought, underpinned by the rationalism that dominated the enlightenment. To dress in a uniform was to transform the body into that rational, uniform being. At the same time uniformity “suppresses individuality”, controlling social interaction (Joseph and Alex 723-24), and centralising the organisation or state in our social lives. As an item of dress, uniforms are distinctive. Yet they only become distinctive when they become different from everyday dress, such as spurs on Cavalry officers who have no horses or wigs on lawyers when everyone else has dispensed with them (Hobsbawm 4). Dress in general is governed by unwritten social rules, perhaps none so pervasive as being required to dress to your gender. The history of uniform reveals that occupational dress often demarked the appropriate gender for the job. Early military uniforms were masculine, nanny uniforms feminine. Uniform explicates status of both the wearer and the non-wearer, who then becomes the ‘other’, the outsider or the non-conformer. The dichotomy between wearer and non-wearer is not so clear, however, as the power of the uniform also provides the means through which the non-conformer can subvert its meanings through incorrect wearing of the uniform. Similarly, too, we see others subverting uniform social norms to make their political points or for political gain. As Jennifer Craik states, “there is a constant play between the intended symbolisms of uniforms … and the informal codes of wearing and denoting uniforms” (Craik 7). As one of “modernity’s practices; [uniforms represent] resistance to tradition and the embrace of rationality” (Tynan and Godson 1-2). Yet, as the twentieth century progressed, we can see uniforms and uniformity of thought being co-opted to create ‘tradition’ and ‘ritual’ particularly around the state (see Cannadine; Hobsbawn). Concurrently, formal occupational dress for many workers entered a decline near the beginning of the twentieth century (Williams-Mitchell 101), yet other forms of uniform arose. A tendency arose towards what Jennifer Craik calls the ‘quasi-uniform’, those “modes of dress that are consensually imposed as appropriate” (17), for example the business suit, a wedding dress or gym wear. This mode of uniform shifts the dynamic from a top-down directive (such as that in an institution or by government) to a more democratic one, where the general populace seemingly consents to, and socially police. With the advent of film, television, and later the Internet, the access to information has led to what some argue as the homogenisation of culture, albeit one that is dominated by particular western cultures. This too can be seen in international diplomacy. First the League of Nations, and then the United Nations, standardised international dialogue between countries. Uniform processes were put in place, with institutions such as the International Court playing a pivotal role. The English language came to dominate, with over 67 countries counting it as an official language, and many others having it in common use. This was arguably as a result of its primacy in both media and diplomatic communications, creating a uniform language which paradoxically retains its localised character. Although this too may be dissipating as this primacy is being challenged through the reinvigoration of languages from former colonies, from Irish to the Indigenous Australian languages, and the growing populations speaking Spanish and Chinese. Diversity too is being demanded in our media and politics, through more balanced and nuanced representations of people. Uniforms are often products of their time, and in their physical form can appear as from another era, staying static while fashion swiftly moves on. The butler or the chauffeur can look like a relic from a previous age. So too can uniform ways of thinking. The recent changing of state school uniform polices in Australia from gendered to gender-neutral clothing reflects how uniforms can be slow to catch up to social norms of women wearing trousers and shorts for sport, leisure, and work. This reflects not only the clothing, but the institutional beliefs that underpinned uniform policy. In reflection of the ways that uniform has changed, for this edition we have chosen to present the feature article followed by the articles in chronological order. The feature article addresses much of the shift in uniforms. This is followed by ten articles which explore several different types of uniform, both physical and metaphysical, revealing how uniforms have changed in society in the last 125 years. This issue’s feature article takes up the theme of how a dress code has developed into an imposed uniform in parliaments, and how female politicians have challenged the gender norms embedded in these codes. Taking a longitudinal view, “Parliamentary Dress: Gendered Contestation of the Political Uniform” by Jo Coghlan and Lisa J. Hackett first situates the development of parliamentary dress in its historical context that assumes masculine attire. It then highlights how female politicians have used these codes to both signal their adherence to norms and their rejection of the same norms. It further examines the ways that prominent female politicians have subverted the parliamentary uniform to make political statements. Our first article, “The Inculcative Power of Australian Cadet Corps Uniforms in the 1900s and 1910s” by Nathan Wise and Lisa J. Hackett, takes us to the start of the twentieth century and examines how military uniforms entered the classroom in the years leading up to, and during, the First World War. It notes how cadet programmes were part of a wider social movement that sought to instil middle-class values throughout society. By donning uniforms, it was believed, boys would also ‘wear’ the ideology prescribed within them. It also served as a signifier to wider society of the status of these boys and the future possibility of service to their country. The experience of the First World War and the mass-uniforming of the population provided a blue-print for the organisation of labour during wartime. Trends that were established during the First World War developed further, perhaps driven by the social and political upheavals of the inter-war years; the Roaring 20s, the Great Depression, the rise of Fascism. Among this was the continuation of the idea that schoolboys undertake Army cadet programmes as part of their education. Some schools had continued this after the First World War, whilst others would introduce it at the start of the war. Liam Barnsdale’s article “Trooping the (School) Colour: Australian School Cadet Uniforms and Masculine Identities during the Second World War” examines how the cadet programmes within schools increased in popularity during the war period. Central to this was the debate over uniforming boys in appropriate uniforms. As Barnsdale points out, Australia had no official uniform for use by cadets. Instead, individual schools designed their own uniforms, which often revealed the ideology of the school rather than the armed forces. The result was that in Australia cadet uniforms were diverse in their offerings. Founded in the dying days of the Second World War, uniformity of political ideals was encapsulated in the fledging United Nations. Replacing the League of Nations which was founded to maintain world peace, the United Nations has proven to be more effective and long-lasting than its predecessor. The central mission of peacekeeping brought about a new form of military uniform, the distinctive blue berets worn by the United Nations Peace Keepers. Simone Strungaru’s article “The Blue Beret: Representations and Symbolism of UN Peacekeeper’s Uniforms” examines the history of the distinctive uniform. Here Strungaru reveals the rich symbolism that the blue beret leverages in forging a distinctive identity for the men and women who wear it. The centrality of military uniforms in historical state events, such as wars, have meant that their iconography has often been linked to the grand ceremonies of state. David Cannadine argued in 1983 that ceremonies surrounding the British royal family have become “so well stage managed” that the British (and arguably Australians) believe they are good at tradition and ritual (Cannadine 160). The next article in our volume examines the careful management of a royal visit to an Australian beach. Donna Lee Brien’s article “Planning Queen Elizabeth II’s Visit to Bondi Beach in 1954: An Object-Inspired History” examines the material remnants of uniform and how it provides a gateway to historical knowledge. Brien’s examination starts with a commemorative medal handed out to school children as part of the royal visit to Bondi Beach. This medal deliberately ties the school uniform to royalty through the use of a signifier usually worn as a military achievement. This tangible connection allows the organisers to assign royalist identities to the school uniform. Brien’s article further extrapolates how other uniforms, such as those worn by Surf Life Savers, Nurses, and a Pipe Band were used in a carefully orchestrated display of royal pageantry at the beach. A pageantry that was uniquely Imperial and Australian all at once. Xiang Gao’s article “A ‘Uniform’ for all States? International Norm Diffusion and Localisation” takes up how norms within different countries have evolved, arguing that such norms become a type of ‘national uniform’. While states adhere to international norms such as those enshrined in the United Nations, they also have to negotiate with domestic actors and the ideals held by them. Thus, norms have to adapt to local sensibilities. The ability of a state to define its own norms on the international stage is affected by its relative positioning in international relations and diplomacy. Gao argues that more powerful states have increased capacity to define and challenge normative behaviour than smaller powers. The results of this can be seen through international treaties: for example, climate change negotiations. Uniformness and uniforms are not just the apparatus of the state, they also exist to identify members of groups that hold themselves apart from society. From subcultural uniforms to religious cults denoting their affiliation to a power beyond the mortal realm, uniforms have been utilised to exclude both the wearer from society and outsiders from the group. In their article “The Clothes Maketh the Cult: The Myth of the Cult and Pop Culture”, Huw Nolan, Jenny Wise, and Lesley McLean examine how the cult ‘uniform’ is used in popular culture as a device to denote cults as ‘the other’. Pope Francis uses his uniform as a way of challenging international norms when it comes to environmental issues, as argued in Aidan Moir’s article: “The Pope’s New Clothes: The Brand Politics of the Papal Uniform in Popular Culture”. Pope Francis, Moir argues, has deliberately chosen modest religious vestments to signify his environmental ethics and his emulation of his namesake, St Francis of Assisi. This uniform also marks a shift away from the more ornate vestments preferred by his predecessor, Pope Benedict. Moir also notes how each pope has personalised their uniform through the use of accessories, noting both John Paul II and Benedict conspicuously wearing accessories from established brand names such as Prada or Rolex. Pope Francis’s aesthetic rejects these items of conspicuous consumption, creating a humbler appearance, reducing the distance between the Catholic leader and his flock. Uniformity does not necessarily mean homogeneity, but rather, as Fredericks and Bradfield argue, a collective whole that can work together. Their article, “‘Uniting Hearts’: The Uluru Statement from the Heart and the Need for a Uniformed Front for a Constitutionally Enshrined First Nations’ Voice to Parliament” also introduces to our discussion how digital icons, a unique feature of contemporary life, become virtual uniforms, signalling the ideological position of the communicator. The ‘Uluru heart’ icon can be both worn physically and shared online to denote support for the Uluru Statement. The simple use of a recognisable symbol communicates identity and allows for widespread dissemination of support for the Uluru Statement. Nicholas Hookway continues the discussion on the use of uniform to denote support for social causes in his article “‘I decked myself out in pink’: Examining the Role of the Pink Uniform in a Virtual Sports Charity Event”. This article also demonstrates the mutability of the uniform: by adhering to the colour pink, individuals have a wide scope of clothing choices, accessories, makeup, and hair colour, etc., to choose from. Examining the pink uniform through the concept of embodied philanthropy, Hookway demonstrates how sports participants are able to create their own uniform, creating a community among themselves. This article also shows how a uniform can be created that allows for high levels of individualisation, a significant change to the reformers of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. This lack of ‘uniformity’ within the uniform appears to have had little negative effect on the wearer’s sense of purpose or unity. The article also shows how, despite pink’s association with femininity, men were prepared to wear the uniform colour to show their support of the cause. The association of the colour with cancer replaces other sociological meanings in this context. The final article in this issue offers a look at how attempts to create a social uniform can be foiled through the lack of a distinctive character, despite the availability of distinct iconography. In “Ayo, Bisexual Check: Bi Bobs, Cuffed Jeans, and Prototypes for a Bisexual Uniform on TikTok”, Collin Knopp-Schwyn examines the difficulties of establishing a uniform when the intended audience struggles to understands its meaning. Despite this, the author locates where the online bisexual community have developed a distinct style that promises the become a prototype for a recognisable bisexual uniform. The articles in this issue provide a comprehensive investigation into various facets of what uniform means both historically and contemporarily. A discernible shift away from highly regimented styles to distinct looks has occurred as society integrates the twin desires of inclusivity and individuality with the long held social need to be part of a recognisable group. References Cannadine, David. "The Context, Performance and Meaning of Ritual: The British Monarchy and the 'Invention of Tradition', c. 1820–1977." The Invention of Tradition. Eds. Eric Hobsbawm and Terence Ranger. Canto ed. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1992. 101-64. Craik, Jennifer. Uniforms Exposed. Oxford: Berg, 2005. Hobsbawm, Eric. "Introduction: Inventing Traditions." The Invention of Tradition. Eds. Eric Hobsbawm and Terence Ranger. Canto ed. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1992. 1-14. Joseph, Nathan, and Nicholas Alex. "The Uniform: A Sociological Perspective." The American Journal of Sociology 77.4 (1972): 719-30. Tynan, Jane, and Lisa Godson. "Understanding Uniform: An Introduction." Uniform: Clothing and Discipline in the Modern World. Eds. Jane Tynan and Lisa Godson. London and New York: Bloomsbury, 2019. Williams-Mitchell, Christobel. Dressed for the Job: The Story of Occupational Costume. Poole, Dorset: Blandford Press, 1982.

Why do politicians wear what they wear? Social conventions and parliamentary rules largely shape how politicians dress. Clothing is about power, especially if we think about clothing as uniforms. Uniforms of judges and police are easily recognised as symbols of power. Similarly, the business suit of a politician is recognised as a form of authority. But what if you are a female politician: what do you wear to work or in public? Why do we expect politicians to wear suits and ties? While we do expect a certain level of behaviour of our political leaders, why does the professionalised suit and tie signal this? And what happens if a politician challenges this convention? Female politicians, and largely any women in a position of power in the public sphere, are judged when they don’t conform to the social conventions of appropriate dress. Arguably, male politicians are largely not examined for their suit preferences (unless you are Paul Keating wearing Zenga suits or Anthony Albanese during an election make-over), so why are female politicians’ clothes so scrutinised and framed as reflective of their abilities or character? This article interrogates the political uniform and its gendered contestations. It does so via the ways female politicians are challenging gender norms and power relations in how they dress in public, political, and parliamentary contexts. It considers how rules and conventions around political clothing are political in themselves, through a discussion on how female politicians and political figures choose to adhere to or break these rules. Rules about what dress is worn by parliamentarians are often archaic, often drawn from rules set by parliaments largely made up of men. But even with more women sitting in parliaments, dress rules still reflect a very masculine idea of what is appropriate. Dress standards in the Australian federal parliament are described as a “matter for individual judgement”, however the Speaker of the House of Representatives can make rulings on members’ attire. In 1983, the Speaker ruled dress was to be neat, clean, and decent. In 1999, the Speaker considered dress to be “formal” and “similar to that generally accepted in business and professional circles”. This was articulated by the Speaker to be “good trousers, a jacket, collar and tie for men and a similar standard of formality for women”. In 2005, the Speaker reinforced this ruling that dress should be “formal” in keeping with business and professional standards, adding there was no “dignity of the House for Members to arrive in casual or sportswear” (“Dress”). Clothes with “printed slogans” are not considered acceptable and result in a warning from the Speaker for Australian MPs to “dress more appropriately”. Previous dress rulings also include that members should not remove their jackets in parliament, “tailored safari suits without a tie were acceptable, members could wear hats in parliament but had to remove them while entering or leaving the chamber and while speaking”. The safari suit rule likely refers to the former Foreign Affairs Minister Gareth Evans’s wearing of the garment during the 1980s and 1990s. The Speaker can also rule on what a member of the federal parliament can’t do. While in parliament, members can’t smoke, can’t read a newspaper, can’t distribute apples, may not climb over seats, and can’t hit or kick their desks. Members of parliament can however use their mobile phones for text messaging, and laptops can be used for emails (“Dress”). These examples suggest an almost old-fashioned type of school rules juxtaposed with modern sensibilities, positing the ad-hoc nature of parliamentary rules, with dress rules further evidence of this. While a business suit is considered the orthodoxy of the political uniform for male politicians, this largely governs rules about what female politicians wear. The business suit, the quasi-political uniform for male MPs, is implicit and has social consensus. The suit, which covers the body, is comprised of trousers to the ankle, well cut in muted colours of blue, grey, brown, and black, with contrasting shirts, often white or light colours, ties that may have a splash of colour, often demonstrating allegiances or political persuasions, mostly red or blue, as in the case of Labor and Liberal or Republicans and Democrats. The conventions of the suit are largely proscribed onto women, who wear a female version of the male suit, with some leeway in colour and pattern. Dress for female MPs should be modest, as with the suit, covering much of the body, and especially have a modest neckline and be at least knee length. In the American Congress, the dress code requires “men to wear suit jackets and ties ... and women are not supposed to wear sleeveless tops or dresses without a sweater or jacket” (Zengerle). In 2017, this prompted US Congresswomen to wear sleeveless dresses as a “right to bare arms” (Deutch and Karl). In these two Australian and American examples of a masculine parliamentary wear it is reasonable to suppose a seeming universality about politicians’ dress codes. But who decides what is the correct mode of political uniform? Sartorial rules about what are acceptable clothing choices are usually made by the dominant group, and this is the case when it comes to what politicians wear. Some rules about what is worn in parliament are archaic to our minds today, such as the British parliament law from 1313 which outlaws the wearing of armour and weaponry inside the chamber. More modern rulings from the UK include the banning of hats in the House of Commons (although not the Lords), and women being permitted handbags, but not men (Simm). This last rule reveals how clothing and its performance is gendered, as does the Australian parliament rule that a “Member may keep his hands in his pockets while speaking” (“Dress”), which assumes the speaker is likely a man wearing trousers. Political Dress as Uniform While political dress may be considered as a dress ‘code’ it can also be understood as a uniform because the dress reflects their job as public, political representatives. When dress code is considered as a uniform, homogenisation of dress occurs. Uniformity, somewhat ironically, can emphasise transgressions, as Jennifer Craik explains: “cultural transgression is a means of simultaneously undermining and reinforcing rules of uniforms since an effective transgressive performance relies on shared understandings of normative meanings, designated codes of conduct and connotations” (Craik 210). Codified work wear usually comes under the umbrella of uniforms. Official uniforms are the most obvious type of uniforms, clearly denoting the organisation of the wearer. Military, police, nurses, firefighters, and post-office workers often have recognisable uniforms. These uniforms are often accompanied by a set of rules that govern the “proper” wearing of these items. Uniforms rules do not just govern how the clothing is worn, they also govern the conduct of the person wearing the uniform. For example, a police officer in uniform, whether or not on duty, is expected to maintain certain codes of behaviour as well as dress standards. Yet dress, as Craik notes, can also be transgressive, allowing the wearer to challenge the underpinning conventions of the dress codes. Both Australian Senator Sarah Hanson-Young and US Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, to name just two, leveraged social understandings of uniforms when they used their clothing to communicate political messages. Fashion as political communication or as ‘fashion politics’ is not a new phenomenon (Oh 374). Jennifer Craik argues that there are two other types of uniform; the unofficial and the quasi-uniform (17). Unofficial uniforms are generally adopted in lieu of official uniforms. They generally arise organically from group members and function in similar ways to official uniforms, and they tend to be identical in appearance, even if hierarchical. Examples of these include the yellow hi-vis jackets worn by the French Gilets Jaunes during the 2018 protests against rising costs of living and economic injustice (Coghlan). Quasi-uniforms work slightly differently. They exist where official and unofficial rules govern the wearing of clothes that are beyond the normal social rules of clothing. For example, the business suit is generally considered appropriate attire for those working in a conservative corporate environment: some workplaces restrict skirt, trouser, and jacket colours to navy, grey, or black, accompanied by a white shirt or blouse. In this way we can consider parliamentary dress to be a form of “quasi-uniform”, governed by both official and unofficial workplaces rules, but discretionary as to what the person chooses to wear in order to abide by these rules, which as described above are policed by the parliamentary Speaker. In the Australian House of Representatives, official rules are laid down in the policy “Dress and Conduct in the Chamber” which allows that “the standard of dress in the Chamber is a matter for the individual judgement of each Member, [but] the ultimate discretion rests with the Speaker” (“Dress”). Clothing rules within parliamentary chambers may establish order but also may seem counter-intuitive to the notions of democracy and free speech. However, when they are subverted, these rules can make clothing statements seem even more stark. Jennifer Craik argues that “wearing a uniform properly ... is more important that the items of clothing and decoration themselves” (4) and it is this very notion that makes transgressive use of the uniform so powerful. As noted by Coghlan, what we wear is a powerful tool of political struggle. French revolutionaries rejected the quasi-uniforms of the French nobility and their “gold-braided coat, white silk stockings, lace stock, plumed hat and sword” (Fairchilds 423), and replaced it with the wearing of the tricolour cockade, a badge of red, blue, and white ribbons which signalled wearers as revolutionaries. Uniforms in this sense can be understood to reinforce social hierarchies and demonstrate forms of power and control. Coghlan also reminds us that the quasi-uniform of women’s bloomers in the 1850s, often referred to as “reform dress”, challenged gender norms and demonstrated women’s agency. The wearing of pants by women came to “symbolize the movement for women’s rights” (Ladd Nelson 24). The wearing of quasi-political uniforms by those seeking social change has a long history, from the historical examples already noted to the Khadi Movement led by Gandhi’s “own sartorial choices of transformation from that of an Englishman to that of one representing India” (Jain), to the wearing of sharecropper overalls by African American civil rights activists to Washington to hear Martin Luther King in 1963, to the Aboriginal Long March to Freedom in 1988, the Tibetan Freedom Movement in 2008, and the 2017 Washington Pink Pussy Hat March, just to name a few (Coghlan). Here shared dress uniforms signal political allegiance, operating not that differently from the shared meanings of the old-school tie or tie in the colour of political membership. Political Fashion Clothing has been used by queens, female diplomats, and first ladies as signs of power. For members of early royal households, “rank, wealth, magnificence, and personal virtue was embodied in dress, and, as such, dress was inherently political, richly materialising the qualities associated with the wearer” (Griffey 15). Queen Elizabeth I (1558-1603), in order to subvert views that she was unfit to rule because of her sex, presented herself as a virgin to prove she was “morally worthy of holding the traditionally masculine office of monarch” (Howey 2009). To do this she dressed in ways projecting her virtue, meaning her thousands of gowns not only asserted her wealth, they asserted her power as each gown featured images and symbols visually reinforcing her standing as the Virgin Queen (Otnes and Maclaren 40). Not just images and symbols, but colour is an important part of political uniforms. Just as Queen Elizabeth I’s choice of white was an important communication tool to claim her right to rule, Queen Victoria used colour to indicate status and emotion, exclusively wearing black mourning clothes for the 41 years of her widowhood and thus “creating a solemn and pious image of the Queen” (Agnew). Dress as a sign of wealth is one aspect of these sartorial choices, the other is dress as a sign of power. Today, argues Mansel, royal dress is as much political as it is performative, embedded with a “transforming power” (Mansel xiiv). With the “right dress”, be it court dress, national dress, military or civil uniform, royals can encourage loyalty, satisfy vanity, impress the outside world, and help local industries (Mansel xiv). For Queen Elizabeth II, her uniform rendered her visible as The Queen; a brand rather than the person. Her clothes were not just “style choices”; they were “steeped with meaning and influence” that denoted her role as ambassador and figurehead (Atkinson). Her wardrobe of public uniforms was her “communication”, saying she was “prepared, reliable and traditional” (Atkinson). Queen Elizabeth’s other public uniform was that of the “tweed-skirted persona whose image served as cultural shorthand for conservative and correct manner and mode” (Otnes and Maclaren 19). For her royal tours, the foreign dress of Queen Elizabeth was carefully planned with a key “understanding of the political semantics of fashion … with garments and accessories … pay[ing] homage to the key symbols of the host countries” (Otnes and Maclaren 49). Madeline Albright, former US Secretary of State, engaged in sartorial diplomacy not with fashion but with jewellery, specifically pins (Albright). She is quoted as saying on good days, when I wanted to project prosperity and happiness, I'd put on suns, ladybugs, flowers, and hot-air balloons that signified high hopes. On bad days, I'd reach for spiders and carnivorous animals. If the progress was slower than I liked during a meeting in the Middle East, I'd wear a snail pin. And when I was dealing with crabby people, I put on a crab. Other ambassadors started to notice, and whenever they asked me what I was up to on any given day, I would tell them, “Read my pins”. (Burack) Two American first ladies, Hillary Rodham Clinton and Michelle Obama, demonstrate how their fashion acted as a political uniform to challenge the ideal notions of American womanhood that for generations were embedded in the first lady (Rall et al.). While modern first ladies are now more political in their championing of causes and play an important role in presidential election, there are lingering expectations that the first lady be the mother of the nation (Caroli). First Lady Hillary Rodham Clinton’s eclectic style challenged the more conservative tone set by prior Republican first ladies, notably Barbara Bush. Rodham Clinton is a feminist and lawyer more interested in policy that the domesticity of White House functions and décor. Her fashion reflects her “independence, individuality and agency”, providing a powerful message to American women (Rall et al. 274). This was not that much of a shift from her appearance as the wife of a Southern Governor who wouldn’t wear makeup and kept her maiden name (Anderson and Sheeler 26). More recently, as Democratic Presidential nominee, Rodham Clinton again used fashion to tell voters that a woman could wear a suit and become president. Rodham Clinton’s political fashion acted to contest the gender stereotypes about who could sit in the White House (Oh 374). Again, the pantsuit was not new for Rodham Clinton; “when I ran for Senate in 2000 and President in 2008, I basically had a uniform: a simple pantsuit, often black” (Mejia). Rodham Clinton says the “benefit to having a uniform is finding an easy way to fit in … to do what male politicians do and wear more or less the same thing every day”. As a woman running for president in 2016, the pantsuit acted as a “visual cue” that she was “different from the men but also familiar” (Mejia). Similarly, First Lady Michelle Obama adopted a political uniform to situate her role in American society. Gender but also race and class played a role in shaping her performance (Guerrero). As the first black First Lady, in the context of post-9/11 America which pushed a “Buy American” retail campaign, and perhaps in response to the novelty of a black First Lady, Obama expressed her political fashion by returning the First Lady narrative back to the confines of family and domesticity (Dillaway and Paré). To do this, she “presented a middle-class casualness by wearing mass retail items from popular chain stores and the use of emerging American designers for her formal political appearances” (Rall et al. 274). Although the number of women elected into politics has been increasing, gender stereotypes remain, and female representation in politics still remains low in most countries (Oh 376). Hyland argues that female politicians are subject to more intense scrutiny over their appearance … they are held to higher standards for their professional dress and expected to embody a number of paradoxes — powerful yet demure, covered-up but not too prim. They’re also expected to keep up with trends in a way that their male counterparts are not. Sexism can too easily encroach upon critiques of what they wear. How female politicians dress is often more reported than their political or parliamentary contributions. This was the case for Australia’s first female Prime Minister Julia Gillard. Jansens’s 2019 research well demonstrates the media preoccupation with political women’s fashion in a number of ways, be it the colours they choose to wear, how their clothing reveals their bodies, and judgements about the professionalism of their sartorial choices and the number of times certain items of clothing are worn. Jansens provides a number of informative examples noting the media’s obsession with Gillard’s choices of jackets that were re-worn and tops that showed her cleavage. One Australian Financial Review columnist reported, I don’t think it’s appropriate for a Prime Minister to be showing her cleavage in Parliament. It’s not something I want to see. It is inappropriate to be in Parliament, it is disrespectful to yourself and to the Australian community and to the parliament to present yourself in a manner that is unprofessional. (Jansens) The media preoccupation with female politicians’ clothing is noted elsewhere. In the 2012 Korean presidential election, Geun-hye Park became the first female president of Korea, yet media reports focussed largely on Park’s fashion: a 2013 newspaper published a four-page analysis titled “Park Geun-hye Fashion Project”. Another media outlet published a review of the 409 formal function outfits worn by Park (Oh 378). The larger focus, however, remains on Park’s choice to wear a suit, referred to as her “combat uniform” (Cho), for her daily parliamentary and political duties. This led Oh to argue that Korean female politicians, including Park, wear a “male suit as a means for benefit and survival”; however, with such media scrutiny “female politicians are left under constant surveillance” (382). As Jansens argues, clothing can act as a “communicative barrier between the body and society”, and a narrative that focusses on how clothes fit and look “illustrates women’s bodies as exceptional to the uniform of the political sphere, which is a masculine aesthetic” (212). Drawing on Entwistle, Jansens maintains that the the uniform “serves the purpose in policing the boundaries of sexual difference”, with “uniforms of gender, such as the suit, enabl[ing] the repetitious production of gender”. In this context, female politicians are in a double bind. Gillard, for example, in changing her aesthetic illustrates the “false dichotomy, or the ‘double bind’ of women’s competency and femininity that women can be presented with regarding their agency to conform, or their agency to deviate from the masculine aesthetic norm” (Jansens 212). This was likely also the experience of Jeannette Rankin, with media reports focusing on Rankin’s “looks and “personal habits,” and headlines such “Congresswoman Rankin Real Girl; Likes Nice Gowns and Tidy Hair” (“Masquerading”). In this article, however, the focus is not on the media preoccupation with female politicians’ political fashion; rather, it is on how female politicians, rather than conforming to masculine aesthetic norms of wearing suit-like attire, are increasingly contesting the political uniform and in doing so are challenging social and political boundaries As Yangzom puts it, how the “embodiment of dress itself alters political space and civic discourse is imperative to understanding how resistance is performed in creating social change” (623). This is a necessary socio-political activity because the “way the media talks about women affects the way women are perceived in society. If women’s appearances are consistently highlighted in the media, inequality of opportunity will follow from this inequality of treatment” (Jansens 215). Contesting the Political Uniform Breaking fashion norms, or as Entwistle argues, “bodies which flout the conventions of their culture and go without the appropriate clothes are subversive of the most basic social codes and risk exclusion, scorn and ridicule” (7), hence the price may be high to pay for a public figure. American Vice-President Kamala Harris’s penchant for comfy sneakers earned her the nickname “the Converse candidate”. Her choice to wear sneakers rather than a more conventional low-heel shoe didn’t necessarily bring about a backlash; rather, it framed her youthful image (possibly to contrast against Trump and Biden) and posited a “hit the ground running” approach (Hyland). Or, as Devaney puts it, “laced up and ready to win … [Harris] knew her classic American trainers signalled a can-do attitude and a sense of purpose”. Increasingly, political women, rather than being the subject of social judgments about their clothing, are actively using their dressed bodies to challenge and contest a range of political discourses. What a woman wears is a “language through which she can send any number of pointed messages” (Weiss). In 2021, US Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez wore a ‘Tax the rich’ dress to the Met Gala. The dress was designed by social activist designers Brother Vellies and loaned to Ocasio-Cortez to attend the $30,000 ticket event. For Ocasio-Cortez, who has an Instagram following of more than eight million people, the dress is “about having a real conversation about fairness and equity in our system, and I think this conversation is particularly relevant as we debate the budget” (“Alexandria”). For Badham, “in the blood-spattered garments of fighting class war” the “backlash to Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez’s … dress was instant and glorious”. At the same event, Congresswomen Carolyn Maloney wore an ‘Equal Rights for Women’ suffragette-themed floor length dress in the suffragette colours of purple, white, and gold. Maloney posted that she has “long used fashion as a force 4 change” (Chamlee). US Senator Kyrsten Sinema is known for her “eccentric hipster” look when sitting in the chamber, complete with “colourful wigs, funky glasses, gold knee-high boots, and a ring that reads ‘Fuck off”’ (Hyland). Simena has been called a “Prada Socialist” and a “fashion revolutionary” (Cauterucci). Similarly, UK politician Harriet Harmen received backlash for wearing a t-shirt which read “This is what a feminist looks like” when meeting PM David Cameron (Pilote and Montreuil). While these may be exceptions rather than the rule, the agency demonstrated by these politicians speaks to the patriarchal nature of masculine political environments and the conventions and rules that maintain gendered institutions, such as parliaments. When US Vice-President Kamala Harris was sworn in, she was “not only … the first woman, Black woman, and South Asian-American woman elected to the position, but also … the first to take the oath of office wearing something other than a suit and tie”, instead wearing a feminised suit consisting of a purple dress and coat designed by African-American designer Christopher John Rogers (Naer). Harris is often photographed wearing Converse sneakers, as already noted, and Timberland work boots, which for Naer is “quietly rebellious” because with them “Harris subverts expectations that women in politics should appear in certain clothing (sleek heels, for instance) in order to compete with men — who are, most often, in flats”. For Elan, the Vice-President’s sneakers may be a “small sartorial detail, but it is linked to the larger cultural moment in which we live. Sneakers are a form of footwear finding their way into many women’s closets as part of a larger challenge to outmoded concepts of femininity” as well as a nod to her multiracial heritage where the “progenitors of sneaker culture were predominantly kids of colour”. Her dress style can act to disrupt more than just gender meanings; it can be extended to examine class and race. In 2022, referencing the Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez 2021 Met dress, Claudia Perkins, the wife of Australian Greens leader Adam Bandt, wore a “white, full-length dress covered in red and black text” that read “coal kills” and “gas kills”, with slick, long black gloves. Bandt wore a “simple tux with a matching pocket square of the same statement fabric” to the federal parliament Midwinter Ball. Joining Perkins was Greens Senator Sarah Hanson-Young, wearing an “hourglass white dress with a statement on the back in black letters” that read: “end gas and coal”. The trim on the bottom was also covered in the same text. Hanson-Young posted on social media that the “dress is made from a 50-year-old damask table cloth, and the lettering is made from a fast fashion handbag that had fallen apart” (Bliszczyk). Federal MP Nicolle Flint posted a video on Twitter asking a political commentator what a woman in politics should wear. One commentator had taken aim at Flint’s sartorial choices which he described “pearl earrings and a pearly smile” and a “vast wardrobe of blazers, coats and tight, black, ankle-freezing trousers and stiletto heels”. Ending the video, Flint removes her black coat to reveal a “grey bin bag cinched with a black belt” (Norman). In 2018, Québec politician Catherine Dorian was criticised for wearing casual clothes, including Dr Marten boots, in parliament, and again in 2019 when Dorian wore an orange hoodie in the parliamentary chamber. The claim was that Dorian “did not respect decorum” (Pilote and Montreuil). Dorian’s response was “it’s supposed to be the people’s house, so why can’t we look like normal people” (Parrillo). Yet the Québec parliament only has dress rules for men — jacket, shirt and ties — and has no specifics for female attire, meaning a female politician can wear Dr Martens or a hoodie, or meaning that the orthodoxy is that only men will sit in the chamber. The issue of the hoodie, somewhat like Kamala Harris’s wearing of sneakers, is also a class and age issue. For Jo Turney, the hoodie is a “symbol of social disobedience” (23). The garment is mass-produced, ordinary, and democratic, as it can be worn by anyone. It is also a sign of “criminality, anti-social behaviour and out of control youth”. If the media are going to focus on what female politicians are wearing rather than their political actions, it is unsurprising some will use that platform to make social and political comments on issues relating to gender, but also to age, class, and policies. While this may maintain a focus on their sartorial choices, it does remind us of the double bind female politicians are in. With parliamentary rules and social conventions enamoured with the idea of a ‘suit and tie’ being the appropriate uniform for political figures, instances when this ‘rule’ is transgressed will risk public ridicule and social backlash. However, in instances were political women have chosen to wear garments that are not the conventional political uniform of the suit and tie, i.e. a dress or t-shirt with a political slogan, or a hoodie or sneakers reflecting youth, class, or race, they are challenging the customs of what a politician should look like. Politicians today are both men and women, different ages, abilities, sexualities, ethnicities, religions, and demographics. To narrowly suppose what a politician is by what they wear narrows public thinking about a person’s contribution or potential contribution to public life. While patriarchal social conventions and parliamentary rules stay in place, the political sphere is weaker for it. References Agnew, Molly. “Victorian Mourning Dress.” Eternal Goddess 27 Nov. 2020. 12 Dec. 2022 . Albright, Madeleine. Read My Pins: Stories from a Diplomat’s Jewel Box. Sydney: Harper Collins, 2010. “Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez Wears Dress with ‘Tax the Rich' Written on It to Met Gala.” NBC 13 Sep. 2021. . Anderson, Karrin, and Kristine Sheeler. Governing Codes: Gender, Metaphor and Political Identity. Lanham: Lexington Books, 2005. Atkinson, Emma. “Power Dressing: The Queen’s Unique Style.” BBC News 1 Jun. 2022. . Badham, Van. “AOC’s Guide to Getting Noticed at Parties: Drape Yourself in the GGarments of Class War.” The Guardian 15 Sep. 2021. . Bliszczyk, Aleksandra. “Adam Bandt’s Wife and Sarah Hanson-Young Slayed Last Nights Midwinter Ball w/ Anti-Coal Dresses.” Pedestrian TV 8 Sep. 2022. . 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Mejia, Zameena. “4 Powerful Reasons Hillary Clinton Always Wears Her Famous Pantsuits.” CNBC 14 Sep. 2017. . Naer, Danielle. “The 2 Shoe Styles That Kamala Harris Wears on Repeat Might Surprise You.” The Zoe Report 8 Oct. 2020. . Norman, Jane. “Liberal MP Nicolle Flint Wears a Bin Bag to Call Out 'Sexist Rubbish' after Column Describes Her Clothing Choices.” ABC News 27 July 2020. . Oh, Youri. “Fashion in Politics: What Makes Korean Female Politicians Wear ‘the Suit’ NNot ‘a Dress’?” International Journal of Fashion Design, Technology and Education 12:3 (2019): 374-384. Otnes, Celi, and Pauline Maclaren. Royal Fever: The British Monarch in Consumer Culture. Oakland: U of California P, 2015. Parrillo, Felicia. “What Not to Wear: Quebec National Assembly to Review Dress Code.” Global News 5 Dec. 2018. . Pilote, Anne-Marie, and Arnaud Montreuil. “It’s 2019: What’s the Proper Way for Politicians to Dress?” The Conversation 15 Nov. 2019. . 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Introduction The coronation of King Charles III was steeped in the tradition of magic and ritual that has characterised English, and later British, coronations. The very idea of a coronation leverages belief in divinity; however, the coronation of Charles III occurred in a very different social environment than those of monarchs a millennium ago. Today, belief in the divine right of Kings is dramatically reduced. In this context, magic can also be thought of as a stage performance that relies on a tacit understanding between audience and actor, where disbelief is suspended in order to achieve the effect. This paper will examine the use of ritual and magic in the coronation ceremony. It will discuss how the British royal family has positioned its image in relation to the concept of magic and how social changes have brought the very idea of monarchy into question. One way to think about magic, according to Leddington (253), is that it has “long had an uneasy relationship with two thoroughly disreputable worlds: the world of the supposedly supernatural – the world of psychics, mediums and other charlatans – and the world of the con – the world of cheats, hustlers and swindlers”. While it may be that a magician aims to fool the audience, the act also requires audiences to willingly suspend disbelief. Once the audience suspends disbelief in the theatrical event, they enter the realm of fantasy. The “willingness of the audience to play along and indulge in the fantasy” means magic is not just about performances of fiction, but it is about illusion (Leddington 256). Magic is also grounded in its social practices: the occult, sorcery, and witchcraft, particularly when linked to the Medieval Euro-American witch-hunts of the fifteenth to seventeenth century (Ginzburg). Religion scorned magic as a threat to the idea that only God had “sovereignty over the unseen” (Benussi). By the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, intellectuals like Karl Marx, Sigmund Freud, and Max Weber argued that “increases in literacy, better living conditions, and growing acquaintance with modern science, would make people gradually forget their consolatory but false beliefs in spirits, gods, witches, and magical forces” (Casanova). Recent booms in Wicca and neopaganism show that modernity has not dismissed supernatural inquiry. Today, ‘occulture’ – “an eclectic milieu mixing esotericism, pop culture, and urban mysticism” – is treated as a “valuable resource to address existential predicaments, foster resilience in the face of the negative, expand their cognitive resources, work on their spiritual selves, explore fantasy and creativity, and generally improve their relationship with the world” (Benussi). Indeed, Durkheim’s judgement of magic as a quintessentially personal spiritual endeavour has some resonance. It also helps to explain why societies are still able to suspend belief and accept the ‘illusion’ that King Charles III is appointed by God. And this is what happened on 6 May 2023 when millions of people looked on, and as with all magic mirrors, saw what they wanted to see. Some saw a … victory for the visibility of older women, as if we did not recently bury a 96-year-old queen, and happiness at last. Others saw a victory for diversity, as people of colour and non-Christian faiths, and women, were allowed to perform homage — and near the front, too, close to the god. (Gold 2023) ‘We must not let in daylight upon magic’ In 1867, English essayist Walter Bagehot (1826-1877) wrote “above all things our royalty is to be reverenced, and if you begin to poke about it, you cannot reverence it … . Its mystery is its life. We must not let in daylight upon magic” (cited in Ratcliffe). Perhaps, one may argue sardonically, somebody forgot to tell Prince Harry. In the 2022 six-part Netflix special Harry and Meghan, it was reported that Prince Harry and his wife Meghan have “shone not just daylight but a blinding floodlight on the private affairs of the royal family” (Holden). Queen Elizabeth II had already learnt the lesson of not letting the light in. In June 1969, BBC1 and ITV in Britain aired a documentary titled Royal Family, which was watched by 38 million viewers in the UK and an estimated 350 million globally. The documentary was developed by William Heseltine, the Queen’s press secretary, and John Brabourne, who was the son-in-law of Lord Mountbatten, to show the daily life of the royal family. The recent show The Crown also shows the role of Prince Phillip in its development. The 110-minute documentary covered one year of the royal’s private lives. Queen Elizabeth was shown the documentary before it aired. The following dialogue amongst the royals in The Crown (episode 3, season 4 ‘Bubbikins’) posits one reason for its production. It’s a documentary film … . It means, um ... no acting. No artifice. Just the real thing. Like one of those wildlife films. Yes, except this time, we are the endangered species. Yes, exactly. It will follow all of us in our daily lives to prove to everyone out there what we in here already know. What’s that? Well, how hard we all work. And what good value we represent. How much we deserve the taxpayer’s money. So, we’ll all have to get used to cameras being here all the time? Not all the time. They will follow us on and off over the next few months. So, all of you are on your best behaviour. As filming begins, Queen Elizabeth says of the camera lights, “it’s jolly powerful that light, isn’t it?” In 1977 Queen Elizabeth banned the documentary from being shown in Britain. The full-length version is currently available on YouTube. Released at a time of social change in Britain, the film focusses on tradition, duty, and family life, revealing a very conservative royal family largely out of step with modern Britain. Perhaps Queen Elizabeth II realised too much ‘light’ had been let in. Historian David Cannadine argues that, during most of the nineteenth century, the British monarchy was struggling to maintain its image and status, and as the population was becoming better educated, royal ritual would soon be exposed as nothing more than primitive magic, a hollow sham ... the pageantry centred on the monarchy was conspicuous for its ineptitude rather than for its grandeur. (Cannadine, "Context" 102) By the 1980s, Cannadine goes on to posit, despite the increased level of education there remained a “liking for the secular magic of monarchy” (Cannadine, "Context" 102). This could be found in the way the monarchy had ‘reinvented’ their rituals – coronations, weddings, openings of parliament, and so on – in the late Victorian era and through to the Second World War. By the time of Queen Elizabeth’s coronation in 1953, aided by television, “the British persuaded themselves that they were good at ceremonial because they always had been” (Cannadine, "Context" 108). However, Queen Elizabeth II’s coronation was very much an example of the curating of illusion precisely because it was televised. Initially, there was opposition to the televising of the coronation from both within the royal family and within the parliament, with television considered the “same as the gutter press” and only likely to show the “coronation blunders” experienced by her father (Hardman 123). Queen Elizabeth II appointed her husband Prince Phillip as Chair of the Coronation Committee. The Queen was opposed to the coronation being televised; the Prince was in favour of it, wanting to open the “most significant royal ceremony to the common man using the new technology of the day” (Morton 134). The Prince argued that opening the coronation to the people via television was the “simplest and surest way of maintaining the monarchy” and that the “light should be let in on the magic” (Morton 135). Queen Elizabeth II considered the coronation a “profound and sacred moment in history, when an ordinary mortal is transformed into a potent symbol in accordance with centuries-old tradition” (Morton 125). For the Queen, the cameras would be too revealing and remind audiences that she was in fact mortal. The press celebrated the idea to televise the coronation, arguing the people should not be “denied the climax of a wonderful and magnificent occasion in British history” (Morton 135). The only compromise was that the cameras could film the ceremony “but would avert their gaze during the Anointing and Holy Communion” (Hardman 123). Today, royal events are extensively planned, from the clothing of the monarch (Hackett and Coghlan) to managing the death of the monarch (Knight). Royal tours are also extensively planned, with elaborate visits designed to show off “royal symbols, vividly and vitally” (Cannadine 115). As such, their public appearances became more akin to “theatrical shows” (Reed 4). History of the ‘Magicalisation’ of Coronations British coronations originated as a “Christian compromise with earlier pagan rites of royal investiture” and in time it would become a “Protestant compromise with Britain’s Catholic past, while also referencing Britain’s growing role as an imperial power” (Young). The first English coronation was at Bath Abbey where the Archbishop of Canterbury crowned King Edgar in 973. When Edward the Confessor came to the throne in 1043, he commissioned the construction of Westminster Abbey on the site of a Benedictine monk church. The first documented coronation to take place at Westminster Abbey was for William the Conqueror in 1066 (Brain). Coronations were considered “essential to convince England’s kings that they held their authority from God” (Young). Following William the Conqueror’s coronation cementing Westminster Abbey’s status as the site for all subsequent coronation ceremonies, Henry III (1207-1272) realised the need for the Abbey to be a religious site that reflects the ceremonial status of that which authorises the monarch’s authority from God. It was under the influence of Henry III that it was rebuilt in a Gothic style, creating the high altar and imposing design that we see today (Brain). As such, this “newly designed setting was now not only a place of religious devotion and worship but also a theatre in which to display the power of kingship in the heart of Westminster, a place where governance, religion and power were all so closely intertwined” (Brain). The ‘magicalisation’ of the coronation rite intensified in the reign of Edward I (Young), with the inclusion of the Stone of Destiny, which is an ancient symbol of Scotland’s monarchy, used for centuries in the inauguration of Scottish kings. In 1296, King Edward I of England seized the stone from the Scots and had it built into a new throne at Westminster. From then on, it was used in the coronation ceremonies of British monarchs. On Christmas Day 1950, four Scottish students removed the stone from Westminster Abbey in London. It turned up three months later, 500 miles away at the high altar of Arbroath Abbey. In 1996, the stone was officially returned to Scotland. The stone will only leave Scotland again for a coronation in Westminster Abbey (Edinburgh Castle). The Stone is believed to be of pre-Christian origin and there is evidence to suggest that it was used in the investitures of pagan kings; thus, modern coronations are largely a muddle of the pre-Christian, the sacred, and the secular in a single ceremony (Young). But the “sheer colour, grandeur, and pageantry of Elizabeth II’s coronation in 1953 was such a contrast with the drabness of post-war Britain that it indelibly marked the memories of those who watched it on television—Britain’s equivalent of the moon landings” (Young). It remains to be seen whether King Charles III’s coronation will have the same impact on Britain given its post-Brexit period of economic recession, political instability, and social division. The coronation channels “the fascination, the magic, the continuity, the stability that comes from a monarchy with a dynasty that has been playing this role for centuries, [and] a lot of people find comfort in that” (Gullien quoted in Stockman). However, the world of King Charles III's coronation is much different from that of his mother’s, where there was arguably a more willing audience. The world that Queen Elizabeth II was crowned in was much more sympathetic to the notion of monarchy. Britain, and much of the Commonwealth, was still reeling from the Second World War and willing to accept the fantasy of the 1953 coronation of the 25-year-old newly married princess. By comparison today, support for the monarchy is relatively low. The shift away from the monarchy has been evident since at least 1992, the annus horribilis (Pimlott 7), with much of its basis in the perceived antics of the monarch’s children, and with the ambivalence towards the fire at Windsor Castle that year demonstrating the mood of the public. Pimlott argues “it was no longer fashionable to be in favour of the Monarchy, or indeed to have much good to say about it”, and with this “a last taboo had been shed” (Pimlott 7). The net favourability score of the royal family in the UK sat at +41 just after the death of Queen Elizabeth II. Six months later, this had fallen to +30 (Humphrys). In their polling of adults in the UK, YouGov found that 46% of Britons were likely “to watch King Charles’ coronation and/or take part in celebrations surrounding it”, with younger demographics less likely to participate (YouGov, "How Likely"). The reported £100m cost of the coronation during a cost of living crisis drew controversy, with 51% of the population believing the government should not pay for it, and again the younger generations being more likely to believe that it should not be funded (YouGov, "Do You Think"). Denis Altman (17) reminds us that, traditionally, monarchs claimed their authority directly from God as the “divine right of kings”, which gave monarchs the power to stave off challenges. This somewhat magical legitimacy, however, sits uneasily with modern ideas of democracy. Nevertheless, modern monarchs still call upon this magical legitimacy when their role and relevance are questioned, as the late 1990s proved it to be for the Windsors. With the royal family now subject to a level of public scrutiny that they had not been subjected to in over a century, the coronation of King Charles III would occur in a very different socio-political climate than that of his mother. The use of ritual and magic, and a willing audience, would be needed if King Charles III’s reign was to be accepted as legitimate, never mind popular. As the American conservative commentator Helen Andrews wrote, “all legitimacy is essentially magic” (cited in Cusack). Recognising the need to continue to ensure its legitimacy and relevance, the British royal family have always recognised that mass public consumption of royal births and weddings, and even deaths and funerals are central to them retaining their “mystique” (Altman 30). The fact that 750 million people watched the fairytale wedding of Charles and Diana in 1981, that two billion people watched Diana’s funeral on television in 1997, and a similar number watched the wedding of William and Catherine, suggests that in life and death the royals are at least celebrities, and for some watchers have taken on a larger socio-cultural meaning. Being seen, as Queen Elizabeth II said, in order to be believed, opens the door to how the royals are viewed and understood in modern life. Visibility and performance, argues Laura Clancy (63), is important to the relevance and authority of royalty. Visibility comes from images reproduced on currency and tea towels, but it also comes from being visible in public life, ideally contributing to the betterment of social life for the nation. Here the issue of ‘the magic’ of being blessed by God becomes problematic. For modern monarchs such as Queen Elizabeth II, her power arguably rested on her public status as a symbol of national stability. This, however, requires her to be seen doing so, therefore being visible in the public sphere. However, if royals are given their authority from God as a mystical authority of the divine right of kings, then why do they seek public legitimacy? More so, if ordained by God, royals are not ‘ordinary’ and do not live an ordinary life, so being too visible or too ordinary means the monarchy risks losing its “mystic” and they are “unmasked” (Clancy 65). Therefore, modern royals, including King Charles III, must tightly “stage-manage” being visible and being invisible to protect the magic of the monarch (Clancy 65). For the alternative narrative is easy to be found. As one commentator for the Irish Times put it, “having a queen as head of state is like having a pirate or a mermaid or Ewok as head of state” (Freyne). In this depiction, a monarch is a work of fiction having no real basis. The anointing of the British monarch by necessity taps into the same narrative devices that can be found throughout fiction. The only difference is that this is real life and there is no guarantee of a happily ever after. The act of magic evident in the anointing of the monarch is played out in ‘Smoke and Mirrors’, episode 5 of the first season of the television series The Crown. The episode opens with King George VI asking a young Princess Elizabeth to help him practice his anointing ceremony. Complete with a much improved, though still evident stutter, he says to the young Princess pretending to be the Archbishop: You have to anoint me, otherwise, I can’t ... be King. Do you understand? When the holy oil touches me, I am tr... I am transformed. Brought into direct contact with the divine. For ... forever changed. Bound to God. It is the most important part of the entire ceremony. The episode closes with the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II. Watching the ceremony on television is the Duke of Windsor, the former King Edward VIII, who was not invited to the coronation. To an audience of his friends and his wife Wallis Simpson, he orates: Oils and oaths. Orbs and sceptres. Symbol upon symbol. An unfathomable web of arcane mystery and liturgy. Blurring so many lines no clergyman or historian or lawyer could ever untangle any of it – It's crazy – On the contrary. It's perfectly sane. Who wants transparency when you can have magic? Who wants prose when you can have poetry? Pull away the veil and what are you left with? An ordinary young woman of modest ability and little imagination. But wrap her up like this, anoint her with oil, and hey, presto, what do you have? A goddess. By the time of Elizabeth II’s coronation in 1953, television would demand to show the coronation, and after Elizabeth’s initial reluctance was allowed to televise most of the event. Again, the issue of visibility and invisibility emerges. If the future Queen was blessed by God, why did the public need to see the event? Prime Minister Winston Churchill argued that television should be banned from the coronation because the “religious and spiritual aspects should not be presented as if they were theatrical performance” (Clancy 67). Clancy goes on to argue that the need for television was misunderstood by Churchill: royal spectacle equated with royal power, and the “monarchy is performance and representation” (Clancy 67). But Churchill countered that the “risks” of television was to weaken the “magic of the monarch” (Clancy 67). King Charles III’s Coronation: ‘An ageing debutante about to become a god’ Walter Bagehot also wrote, “when there is a select committee on the Queen … the charm of royalty will be gone”. When asking readers to think about who should pay for King Charles III’s coronation, The Guardian reminded readers that the monarchy rests not on mantras and vapours, but on a solid financial foundation that has been deliberately shielded from parliamentary accountability … . No doubt King Charles III hopes that his coronation will have an enormous impact on the prestige of the monarchy – and secure his legitimacy. But it is the state that will foot the bill for its antique flummery. (The Guardian) Legitimacy it has been said is “essentially magic” (Cusack). The flummery that delivers royal legitimacy – coronations – has been referred to as “a magic hat ceremony” as well as “medieval”, “anachronistic”, and “outdated” (Young). If King Charles III lacks the legitimacy of his subjects, then where is the magic? The highly coordinated, extravagant succession of King Charles III has been planned for over half a century. The reliance on a singular monarch has ensured that this has been a necessity. This also begs the question: why is it so necessary? A monarch whose place was assured surely is in no need of such trappings. Andrew Cusack’s royalist view of the proclamation of the new King reveals much about the reliance on ritual to create magic. His description of the Accession Council at St James’s Palace on 10 September 2022 reveals the rituals that accompany such rarefied events: reading the Accession Proclamation, the monarch swearing their oath and signing various decrees, and the declaration to the public from the balcony of the palace. For the first time, the general public was allowed behind the veil through the lens of television cameras and the more modern online streaming; essential, perhaps, as the proclamation from the balcony was read to an empty street, which had been closed off as a security measure. Yet, for those privileged members of the Privy Council who were able to attend, standing there in a solemn crowd of many hundreds, responding to Garter’s reading of the proclamation with a hearty and united shout of “God save the King!” echoing down the streets of London, it was difficult not to feel the supernatural and preternatural magic of the monarchy. (Cusack) Regardless, the footage of the event reveals a highly rehearsed affair, all against a backdrop of carefully curated colour, music, and costume. Costumes need to be “magnificent” because they “help to will the spell into being” (Gold). This was not the only proclamation ceremony. Variations were executed across the Commonwealth and other realms. In Australia, the Governor-General made a declaration flanked by troops. “A coronation creates a god out of a man: it is magic” (Gold). But for King Charles III, his lack of confidence in the magic spell was obvious at breakfast time. As the congregation spooled into Westminster Abbey, with actors at the front – kings tend to like actors, as they have the same job – the head of the anti-monarchist pressure group Republic, Graham Smith, was arrested near Trafalgar Square with five other republican leaders (Gold). The BBC cut away from the remaining Trafalgar Square protestors as the royal cavalcade passed them by, meaning “screen[s] were erected in front of the protest, as if our eyes — and the king’s — were too delicate to be allowed to see it” (Gold). The Duke of York was booed as he left Buckingham Palace, but that too was not reported on (Ward). This was followed by “the pomp: the fantastical costumes, the militarism, the uneasy horses” (Gold). Yet, the king looked both scared and thrilled: an ageing debutante about to become a god [as he was] poked and prodded, dressed and undressed, and sacred objects were placed on and near him by a succession of holy men who looked like they would fight to the death for the opportunity. (Gold) King Charles III’s first remarks at the beginning of coronation were “I come not to be served, but to serve” (New York Times), a narrative largely employed to dispel the next two hours of well-dressed courtiers and clergy attending to all manner of trinkets and singing all matter of hymns. After being anointed with holy oil and presented with some of the crown jewels, King Charles was officially crowned by the Archbishop of Canterbury placing the St Edward’s Crown upon his head. The 360-year-old crown is the centrepiece of the Crown Jewels. It stands just over 30 centimetres tall and weighs over two kilograms (Howard). In the literal crowning moment, Charles was seated on the 700-year-old Coronation Chair, believed to be the oldest piece of furniture in Europe still being used for its original purpose and holding two golden scepters as the glittering St. Edward’s Crown, made for King Charles II in 1661, was placed on his head. It is the only time he will ever wear it. (New York Times) The Indigenous Australian journalist Stan Grant perhaps best sums up the coronation and its need to sanctify via magic the legitimacy of the monarchy. He argues that taking the coronation seriously only risks becoming complicit in this antediluvian ritual. A 74-year-old man will finally inherit the crown of a faded empire. His own family is not united, let alone his country. Charles will still reign over 15 nations, among them St Lucia, Tuvalu, Grenada, Canada and, of course, steadfast Australia. The “republican” Prime Minister Anthony Albanese will be among those pledging his allegiance. To seal it all, the new King will be anointed with holy oil. This man is apparently a gift from God. Conclusion Magic is central to the construction of the coronation ceremony of British monarchs, a tradition that stretches back over a millennium. Magic relies upon an implicit understanding between the actors and the audience; the audience knows what they are seeing is a trick, but nonetheless want to be convinced otherwise. It is for the actors to present the trick seamlessly for the audience to enjoy. The coronation relies upon the elevation of a singular person above all other citizens and the established ritual is designed to make the seemingly impossible occur. For centuries, British coronations occurred behind closed doors, with the magic performed in front of a select crowd of peers and notables. The introduction of broadcasting technology, first film, then radio and television, transformed the coronation ceremony and threatened to expose the magic ritual for the trick it is. The stage management of the latest coronation reveals that these concerns were held by the producers, with camera footage carefully shot so as to exclude any counter-narrative from being broadcast. However, technology has evolved since the previous coronation in 1953, and these undesired images still made their way into various media, letting the daylight in and disrupting the magic. It remains to be seen what effect, if any, this will have on the long-term reign of Charles III. References Altman, Dennis. God Save the Queen: The Strange Persistence of Monarchies. Melbourne: Scribe, 2021. Benussi, Matteo. "Magic." The Open Encyclopedia of Anthropology. Ed. Felix Stein. Cambridge 2019. Brain, Jessica. "The History of the Coronation." Historic UK, 2023. Cannadine, David. "The Context, Performance and Meaning of Ritual: The British Monarchy and the 'Invention of Tradition', c. 1820–1977." The Invention of Tradition. Eds. Eric Hobsbawm and T.O. Ranger. Canto ed. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1992. 101-64. ———. Ornamentalism: How the British Saw Their Empire. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2002. Casanova, José. Public Religions in the Modern World. U of Chicago P, 2011. Clancy, Laura. Running the Family Firm: How the Monarchy Manages Its Image and Our Money. Manchester: Manchester UP, 2021. Cusack, Andrew. "Magic at St James's Palace." Quadrant 66.10 (2022): 14-16. Edinburgh Castle. "The Stone of Destiny." Edinburgh Castle, 2023. Ginzburg, Carlo. Ecstasies: Deciphering the Witches' Sabbath. U of Chicago P, 2004. Gold, Tanya. "The Coronation Was an Act of Magic for a Country Scared the Spell Might Break." Politico 6 May 2023. Grant, Stan. "When the Queen Died, I Felt Betrayed by a Nation. For King Charles's Coronation, I Feel Something Quite Different." ABC News 6 May 2023. The Guardian. "The Guardian View on Royal Finances: Time to Let the Daylight In: Editorial." The Guardian 6 Apr. 2023. Hackett, Lisa J., and Jo Coghlan. "A Life in Uniform: How the Queen’s Clothing Signifies Her Role and Status." See and Be Seen. 2022. Hardman, Robert. Queen of Our Times: The Life of Queen Elizabeth II. Simon and Schuster, 2022. Holden, Michael, and Hanna Rantala. "Britain's Bruised Royals Stay Silent as Prince Harry Lets 'Light in on Magic'." Reuters 10 Jan. 2023. Howard, Jacqueline. "King Charles Has Been Crowned at His 'Slimmed-Down' Coronation Ceremony. These Were the Key Moments." ABC News 7 May 2023. Humphrys, John. "First the Coronation… But What Then?" YouGov 14 Apr. 2023. Knight, Sam. "'London Bridge Is Down': The Secret Plan for the Days after the Queen’s Death." The Guardian 2017. Leddington, Jason. "The Experience of Magic." The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism 74.3 (2016): 253-64. "Smoke and Mirrors." The Crown. Dir. Philip Martin. Netflix, 2016. "Bubbikins." The Crown. Dir. Benjamin Caron. Netflix, 2019. Morton, Andrew. The Queen. Michael O'Mara, 2022. New York Times. "Missed the Coronation? Here’s What Happened, from the Crown to the Crowds." New York Times 2023. Pimlott, Ben. "Jubilee and the Idea of Royalty." Historian 76 (2002): 6-15. Ratcliffe, Susan, ed. Oxford Essential Quotations. 4th ed. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2016. Reed, Charles, Andrew Thompson, and John Mackenzie. Royal Tourists, Colonial Subjects and the Making of a British World, 1860–1911. Oxford: Manchester UP, 2016. Stockman, Farah. "We Are Obsessed with Royalty." Editorial. The New York Times 10 Mar. 2021: A22(L). Ward, Victoria. "Prince Andrew Booed by Parts of Coronation Crowd." The Telegraph 6 May 2023. YouGov. "Do You Think the Coronation of King Charles Should or Should Not Be Funded by the Government?" 18 Apr. 2023. ———. "How Likely Are You to Watch King Charles’ Coronation and/or Take Part in Celebrations Surrounding It?" 13 Apr. 2023. Young, Francis. "The Ancient Royal Magic of the Coronation." First Things: Journal of Religion and Public Life 5 May 2023.

Introduction Since the early 2000s, and especially since the onset of COVID-19 and long periods of lockdown, board games have seen a revival in popularity. The increasing popularity of board games are part of what Julie Lennett, a toy industry analyst at NPD Group, describes as the “nesting trend”: families have more access to entertainment at home and are eschewing expensive nights out (cited in Birkner 7). While on-demand television is a significant factor in this trend, for Moriaty and Kay (6), who wouldn’t “welcome [the] chance to turn away from their screens” to seek the “warmth and connection you get from playing games with live human family and friends?” For others, playing board games can simply be about nostalgia. Board games have a long history not specific to one period, geography, or culture. Likely board games were developed to do two things – teach and entertain. This remains the case today. Historically, miniature versions of battles or hunts were played out in what we might recognise today as a board game. Trade, war, and science impacted on their development, as did the printing press, which allowed for the standardisation of rules. Chess had many variations prior to the fifteenth century. Similarly, the Industrial Revolution allowed for the mass production of board games, boosting their popularity across nations, class, and age (Walker 13). Today, regardless of or because of our digital lives, we are in a “board game renaissance” (Booth 1). Still played on rainy days, weekends, and holidays, we now also play board games in dedicated game board cafés like the Haunted Game Café in America, the Snakes and Lattes in Canada, or the Mind Café in Singapore. In the board game café Draughts in the UK, customers pay £5 to select and play one of 800 board games, including classics like Monopoly and Cluedo. These cafes are important as they are “helping manufacturers to understand the kind of games that appeal to the larger section of players” (Atrizton). COVID-19 caused board game sales to increase. The global market was predicted to increase by US$1 billion in 2021, compared to 2020 (Jarvis). Total sales of board games in Australia are expected to reach AU$86 million in 2023, an almost 10 per cent increase from the preceding year (Statista "Board Games – Australia"). The emergence of Kickstarter, a global crowdfunding platform which funds new board games, is filling the gap in the contemporary board game market, with board games generating 20 per cent of the total funding raised (Carter). Board games are predicted to continue to grow, with the global market revenue record at US$19 billion dollars in 2022, a figure that is expected to rise to US$40 billion within 6 years (Atrizton). If the current turn towards board games represents a desire to escape from the digital world, the Internet is also contributing to the renaissance. Ex-Star Trek actor Wil Wheaton hosts the popular Web series TableTop, in which each episode explains a board game that is then played, usually with celebrities. The Internet also provides “communities” in which fans can share their enthusiasm, be it as geek culture or cult fandom (Booth 2). Booth provides an eloquent explanation, however, for the allure of face-to-face board games: “they remind us of our face-to-face past, and recall a type of pre-digital luddism where we can circle around the ‘campfire’ of the game board” (Booth 1-2). What makes a board game successful is harder to define. Phillip Orbanes, an American game designer and former vice-president of research and development at Parker Brothers, has attempted to elucidate the factors that make a good board game: “make the rules simple and unambiguous … don’t frustrate the casual player … establish a rhythm … focus on what’s happening off the board … give ‘em chances to come from behind … [and] provide outlets for latent talents” (Orbanes 52-55). Orbanes also says it is important to understand that what “happens off the board is just as important to the experience as the physical game itself” (Orbanes 51). Tristan Donovan contends that there are four broad stages of modern board games, beginning with the folk era when games had no fixed author, their rules were mutable, and local communities adapted the game to suit their sensibilities. Chess is an example of this, with the game only receiving the fixed rules we know today when tournaments and organisations saw the need for a singular set of rules. Mass production of games was the second stage, marking “the single biggest shift in board game history – a total flip in how people understood, experienced and played board games. Games were no long[er] malleable objects owned by the commons, but products created usually in the pursuit of profit” (Donovan 267). An even more recent development in game boards was the introduction of mass produced plastics, which reduced the cost of board game construction and allowed for a wider range of games to be produced. This was particularly evident in the post-war period. Games today are often thought of as global, which allows gamers to discover games from other regions and cultures, such as Catan (Klaus Teuber, 1995), a German game that may not have enjoyed its immense success if it were not for the Internet. Board game players are broadly categorised into two classes: the casual gamer and the hobby or serious gamer (Rogerson and Gibbs). The most popular game from the mass production era is Monopoly, the focus of this article. The History of Monopoly Monopoly was designed and patented by American Elizabeth Magie (1866-1948) in 1902, and was originally called The Landlord’s Game. The game was based on the anti-monopoly taxation principles of Henry George (1839-1897), who argued that people should own 100 per cent of what they make and the land should belong to everyone. Land ownership, considered George, only benefitted land owners, and forces working people to pay exorbitant rent. Magie’s original version of the game was designed to demonstrate how rents enrich property owners and impoverish tenants. Renters in Australia’s property market today may recognise this side of ruthless capitalism. In 1959 Fidel Castro thought Monopoly “sufficiently redolent of capitalism” that he “ordered the ­destruction of every Monopoly set in Cuba” (McManus). Magie, however, was not credited with being the original inventor of Monopoly: rather, this credit was given to Charles Darrow. In 2014, the book The Monopolist: Obsession, Fury, and the Scandal behind the World's Favorite Board Game by Mary Pilon re-established Magie as the inventor of Monopoly, with her role and identity unearthed by American Ralph Anspach (1926-2022), an Adam Smith economist, Polish-German refugee, and anti-Vietnam protestor. According to Pilon, Magie, a suffragette and progressive economic and political thinker, was a Georgist advocate, particularly of his anti-monopolist policies, and it was this that informed her game’s narrative. An unmarried daughter of Scottish immigrants, she was a Washington homeowner, familiar with the grid-like street structure of the national capital. Magie left school at 13 to help support her family who were adversely impacted upon by the Panic of 1873, which saw economic collapse because of falling silver prices, railroad speculation, and property losses. She worked as a stenographer and teacher of Georgist single tax theory. Seeking a broader platform for her economic ideas, and with the growing popularity of board games in middle class homes, in 1904 Magie secured a patent for The Landlord’s Game, at a time when women only held 1 per cent of US patents (Pilon). The original game included deeds and play money and required players to earn wages via labour and pay taxes. The board provided a circular path (as opposed to the common linear path) in which players circled through rental properties and railroads, and could acquire food, with natural reserves (oil, coal, farms, and forests) unable to be monopolised. However, she created two sets of rules – the monopoly rules familiar to today’s players, and anti-monopoly rules in which tensions over human greed and altruism could be played out by participants. Magie started her own New York firm to manufacture and distribute the game, continued the struggle for women’s equality, and raged against wealthy monopolists of the day such as Andrew Carnegie (Pilon). By the late 1920, the game, mostly referred to as the ‘monopoly’ game, was popular, but many who played the game were playing handmade versions, likely unaware of the original Landlord’s Game. In 1931, mass-produced versions of the game, now titled Finance, began to appear, with some changes, including the ability to purchase properties, along with rule books. Occurring at the same time as the emergence of fixed-price goods in large department stores, the game, which now included chance cards, continued to be popular. It was Charles Darrow who sold Monopoly to Parker Brothers, even if he did not invent it. Darrow was introduced to one of the variants of the game and became obsessed with the game, which now featured the Community Chest and Free Parking, but his version did not have a set of rules. An unemployed ex-serviceman with no college education, Darrow struggled to provide for his family. By 1932, America was in the grip of the Great Depression, with housing prices collapsing and squatting common in large American cities. Befriending an artist, Darrow sought to provide a more dynamic and professional version of the game and complete it with a set of rules. In 1933, Darrow marketed his version of the game, titled Mr Monopoly, and it was purchased by Parker Brothers for US$7,000 in 1935. Magie received just US $500 (Farzan). Monopoly, as it was rebranded, was initial sold for $2 a game, and Parker Brothers sold 278,000 games in the first year. In 1936, consumers purchased 1.7 million editions of the game, generating millions of dollars in profits for Parker Brothers, who prior to Monopoly were on the brink of collapse (Pilon). Mary Pilon’s The Monopolists also reveals the struggle of Ralph Anspach in the 1970s to sell his Anti-Monopoly board games, which Parker Brothers fought in the courts. Anspach’s game sought to undermine the power of capitalist monopolies, which he had witnessed directly and negatively impact on fuel prices in America in the early 1970s. Hence the aim was to produce a game with an anti-monopolist narrative grounded in the free-market thinking of Adam Smith. Players were rewarded by breaking monopoly ownerships of utilities such as railroads and energy and metal reserves. In preparing his case against Parker Brothers, Anspach “accidentally discovered the true history of the game”, which began with Magie’s Landlord’s Game. Magie herself had battled with Parker Brothers in order to be “credited as the real originator of the game” and, like Anspach, reveal how Parker Brothers had changed the anti-capitalist narrative of the game, making it the “exact opposite” of its original aims (Landlordsgame). Anspach’s court room version of his battle with Parker Brothers was published in 2000, titled Monopolygate: During a David and Goliath Battle, the Inventor of the Anti-Monopoly® Game Uncovers the Secret History of Monopoly®. Monopoly Today Monopoly is now produced by Hasbro. It is the highest selling board game of all time, with an estimated 275 million units of Monopoly sold (Lee). Fan bases are clearly large too: the official Monopoly Facebook accounts report 9.9m likes (Facebook), and 68% of American households report owning a version of Monopoly (Statista "Which"). At the end of the twentieth century it was estimated that 550 million, or one in 12 people worldwide, had played the game (Guinness World Records "Most Popular"). Today it is estimated that Monopoly has been played by more than one billion people, and the digital Monopoly version has had over 100 million downloads (Johnson). The ability to play beloved board games with a computer opponent or with other players via the Internet arguably adds to the longevity of classic board games such as Monopoly. Yet research shows that despite Monopoly being widely owned, it is often not played as much as other games in people’s homes (d'Astous and Gagnon 84). D’Astous and Gagnon found that players in their study chose Monopoly to play on average six times a year, less than half the times they played Cluedo (13 times a year) or Scrabble (15 times). As Michael Whelan points out, Magie’s original goal was to make a statement about capitalism and landlords: a single player would progress round the board building an empire, whilst the others were doomed to slowly descend into bankruptcy. It was “never meant to be fun for anyone but the winner” (Whelan). Despite Monopoly’s longevity and impressive sales record, it is perhaps paradoxical to find that it is not a particularly popular or enjoyed game. Board Game Geek, the popular board game Website, reports in 2023 that the average rating for Monopoly by over 33,000 members is just 4.4 out of 10, and is ranked the 23,834th most popular game on the site (Board Game Geek). This is mirrored in academic studies: for example, when examining Orbane’s tenets for a good board game, d’Astous and Gagnon (84) found that players' appreciation of Monopoly was generally low. Not only is appreciation low for the game itself, it is also low for player antics during the game. A 2021 survey found that Monopoly causes the most fights, with 20% of households reporting “their game nights with friends or family members are often or always disrupted by competitive or unfriendly behaviour”, leading to players or even the game itself being banned (Lemore). Clearly Orbane’s tenet that the game “generates fun” is missing here (Orbanes 52). Commentators ask why Monopoly remains the best-selling board game of all time when the game has the “astonishing ability to sow seeds of discord” (Berical). Despite the claims that playing Monopoly causes disharmony, the game does allow for player agency. Perhaps more than any other board game, Monopoly is subjected to ‘house rules’. Buzzfeed reported 15 common house rules that many people think are official rules. In 2014 the official Monopoly Facebook page posted a video claiming that “68% of Americans have never read the official game rules” and that “49% of Americans had admitted to playing with their own ‘house rules’”. A look through these rules reveals that players are often trying to restore the balance of power in the game, or in other words increase the chance that a player can win. Hasbro has embraced these rules by incorporating some of them into the official rules. By incorporating players' amendments to the game, Hasbro can keep the Monopoly relevant. In another instance, Hasbro asked fans to vote on new tokens, which led to the thimble token being replaced with a Tyrannosaurus Rex. This was reversed in 2022 when nostalgic fans lobbied for the thimble’s return. Hasbro has also been an innovator by creating special rules for individual editions: for example, the Longest Game Ever edition (2019) slows players down by using only a single dice and has an extended game board. This demonstrates that Hasbro is keen to innovate and evolve the game to meet player expectations. Innovation and responsiveness to fans is one way that Hasbro has maintained Monopoly’s position as highest-selling board game. The only place the original Monopoly rules seem to be played intact are at the official competitions. Collecting and Nostalgia The characteristics of Monopoly allow for a seemingly infinite number of permutations. The places on the board can be real or fictional, making it easily adaptable to accommodate different environments. This is a factor in Monopoly’s longevity. The number of Monopoly editions are endless, with BoardGameGeek listing over 1,300 versions of the game on its site. Monopoly editions range from collector and commemorative editions to music, television, and film versions, actor-based editions, sports club editions, editions tied to toy franchises, animal lover editions, country editions, city editions, holiday editions, car brand editions, motor bike editions, as well as editions such as Monopoly Space, editions branded to popular confectionary, Ms Monopoly, and Go Green Monopoly. Each of these contain their own unique modifications. The Go Green version includes greenhouses, dice are made from FSC-certified wood from well-managed forests, tokens are made with plant-based plastic derived from sugarcane, a renewable raw material, and players can vie to have monopolistic control over renewable energy firms, solar farms, and bike paths. Licencing agreements allows Hasbro to leverage two sets of popular culture fans and collectors simultaneously: fans of Monopoly and its different versions, and fans of the Monopoly branded collectable, such as the Elvis Collector’s edition and Breaking Bad Monopoly. Apart from licencing, what else explains the longevity of Monopoly? Fred Davis demonstrates that nostalgia is an important sociological phenomenon, allowing consumers to re-imagine the past via iconic items including toys. Generation Y, also known as Millennials or digital natives, a cohort born between 1982 and 1994 who have grown up with technology as part of their everyday lives, are particularly interested in ‘heritage-inspired’ goods (Marchegiani and Phau). These consumers enjoy the past with a critical eye, drawn by the aesthetic properties of nostalgic goods rather than a direct personal connection (Goulding 575). Popular culture items are a site of widespread collecting behaviour (Geraghty 2). Belk argues that our possessions are used to construct our social selves. Collectors are a special kind of consumer: where consumers use and discard goods as needed, collectors engage with goods as special objects to be maintained and preserved (Belk 254), which is often achieved through ritualistic behaviour (McCracken 49). This is not to say that items in a collection are removed from use entirely: often being used in the normal manner, for example, clothing collectors will wear their items, yet take care of them in the a way they see akin to conservatorship (Hackett). Collections are often on display, often using the flexibility of the Internet as showground, as is the case with Neil Scallon’s world record collection of Monopoly’s 3,554 different versions of the game (World of Monopoly). Monopoly has low barriers to entry for a collector, as many sets retail at a low price-point, yet there are a few sets which are very expensive. The most expensive Monopoly set of all time retailed for US$2 million, and the cost was mainly borne out of the luxurious materials used: “the board is made from 23 carat gold, rubies and sapphires top the chimneys of the solid gold houses and hotels and the dice have 42 full cut diamonds for spots” (Guinness World Records "Most Expensive"). Conclusion The recent resurgence in board game popularity has only served to highlight Monopoly’s longevity. Through clever marketing and leveraging of nostalgia and popular culture fandoms, Hasbro has managed to retain Monopoly’s position as the number one board game, in sales figures at least. Despite its popularity, Monopoly suffers from a reputation as a conduit for poor player behaviour, as one person triumphs at the downfall of the other players. The game dynamics punish those whom fortune did not reward. In this regard, Elizabeth Magie’s initial aim of teaching about the unfairness of capitalism can be considered a resounding success. In re-establishing her role as a feminist and inventor at the turn of the century, embraced by progressive left-wingers of the 1930s, her story as much as that of Monopoly is a valuable contribution to modern popular culture. References Atrizton. Board Games Market – Global Outlook & Forecast 2023-2028. 2023. Belk, Russell W. "Collectors and Collecting." Handbook of Material Culture. Eds. Christopher Tilley et al. London: Sage, 2006. 534-45. Berical, Matt. "Monopoly Is a Terrible Game. Quit Playing It." Fatherly 4 Mar. 2020. Birkner, Christine. "Get on Board." Adweek 3-10 Apr. 2017: 7. Board Game Geek. "Monopoly." 2023. Booth, Paul. Game Play: Paratextuality in Contemporary Board Games. Bloomsbury, 2015. Buzzfeed. "15 Monopoly Rules That Aren't Actually Rules: Settled That 'Free Parking' Debate." Buzzfeed 27 Mar. 2014. Carter, Chase. "Tabletop Games Have Made over $1.5 Billion on Kickstarter." Dicebreaker 13 Dec. 2022. D'Astous, Alain, and Karine Gagnon. "An Inquiry into the Factors That Impact on Consumer Appreciation of a Board Game." Journal of Consumer Marketing 24.2 (2007): 80-89. Davis, Fred. Yearning for Yesterday: A Sociology of Nostalgia. New York: Free Press, 1979. Donovan, Tristan. "The Four Board Game Eras: Making Sense of Board Gaming’s Past." Catalan Journal of Communication & Cultural Studies 10.2 (2018): 265-70. Facebook. "Monopoly." 1 Mar. 2023. Farzan, Antonia Noori. "The New Monopoly ‘Celebrates Women Trailblazers,’ But the Game’s Female Inventor Still Isn’t Getting Credit." Washington Post 11 Sep. 2019. Geraghty, Lincoln. Cult Collectors. Routledge, 2014. Goulding, Christina. "Romancing the Past: Heritage Visiting and the Nostalgic Consumer." Psychology and Marketing 18.6 (2001): 565-92. Guinness World Records. "Most Expensive Board Game of Monopoly." 30 Jan. 2023. ———. "Most Popular Board Game." 30 Jan. 2023. Hackett, Lisa J. "‘Biography of the Self’: Why Australian Women Wear 1950s Style Clothing." Fashion, Style and Popular Culture 9.1-2 (2022). Johnson, Angela. "13 Facts about Monopoly That Will Surprise You." Insider 27 June 2018. Landlordsgame. "Landlord's Game History, Monopoly Game History." 2021. Lee, Allen. "The 20 Highest Selling Board Games of All Time." Money Inc 11 Mar. 2023. Lemore, Chris. "Banned from Game Night: ‘Monopoly’ Leads to the Most Fights among Family, Friends." Study Finds 2021. Marchegiani, Christopher, and Ian Phau. "Personal and Historical Nostalgia—a Comparison of Common Emotions." Journal of Global Marketing 26.3 (2013): 137-46. McCracken, Grant. Culture and Consumption: New Approaches to the Symbolic Character of Consumer Goods and Activities. Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1988. McManus, James. "Do Not Collect $200." New York Times, 2015. 10. Moriarity, Joan, and Jonathan Kay. Your Move: What Board Games Teach Us about Life. Sutherland House, 2019. Orbanes, Phil. "Everything I Know about Business I Learned from Monopoly." Harvard Business Review 80.3 (2002): 51-131. Pilon, Mary. The Monopolists: Obsession, Fury, and the Scandal Behind the World's Favorite Board Game. Bloomsbury, 2015. Rogerson, Melissa J., and Martin Gibbs. "Finding Time for Tabletop: Board Game Play and Parenting." Games and Culture 13.3 (2018): 280-300. Statista. "Board Games – Australia." 25 Mar. 2023. ———. "Which of These Classic Board Games Do You Have at Home?" Statista-Survey Toys and Games 2018 (2018). Walker, Damian Gareth. A Book of Historic Board Games. Lulu.com, 2014. Whelan, Michael. "Why Does Everyone Hate Monopoly? The Secret History behind the World's Biggest Board Game." Dicebreaker 26 Aug. 2021. World of Monopoly. "Neil Scallan's World Record List of Official Monopolu Items." 2016.