Even though it is, by now, in this epoch called “Thirst Trap,” the norm that daughters wield their mothers for the purpose of heightening their own sexuality through photography (see: the Kris Jenner and Kim Kardashian dynamic), one has always imagined that there was at least a sort of Lorelai/Rory Gilmore age threshold between the two (this duo being just sixteen years apart, if you’ve never seen the show). In the case of Elizabeth Hurley, who recently caught flack from everyone’s least favorite troll, Piers Morgan, trying to say that it was her son who took the photograph, that age difference is much more pronounced, especially because Hurley ain’t no teen girl, and her mother is, well, a grandmother. And yes, after Morgan tried to call her mother-son relationship Oedipal, Hurley asserted that her eighty-year-old matriarch was the one to take a picture of her in nothing more than a fur coat and some skivvies, adding, “Not entirely sure if that puts minds at rest or not.”
It does, indeed. At least in terms of confirming that the Mrs. George (Amy Poehler) in Mean Girls trope is alive and well. And there’s nothing wrong, one supposes, with a mother who encourages her daughter’s sexual liberation, no matter whether she’s in her preteens (JonBenet) to her fifties. Angela Hurley (whose somewhat appropriate maiden name is Titt), after all, surely takes pride in the “product” she created. Yet like Mrs. George in Mean Girls, there is an obvious line crossed between, let’s say, “non-enmeshed” mother-daughter behavior in “comfortably” taking a photo like this of your spawn. The picture of Hurley gives rise to the question of just how this sort of mother-daughter dynamic ends up coming to pass. By and large, it begins in the child’s youth–spurred on the part of the mother seemingly wanting to both “generate” a best friend (rather than having a daughter who will make her aware of her age) and live vicariously through this younger version of herself that might better fulfill the “aspirations” that she never could.
Seen time and time again in “momagers” like Lynne Spears, Dina Lohan and Tish Cyrus, this is the mother who has absolutely no abashment thinking of or seeing her daughter sexually. Indeed, she’ll be happy to get behind the camera to ensure the perfect lighting for baby girl’s nudity. Lohan was right there partying with Lindsay in clubs, immortalized during a forever haunting photo of the duo kissing like a pair of lesbian lovers. Spears, while letting the reins go on Britney to manage a new ingenue, Jamie Lynn, never seemed to have any qualms about her daughter’s increasingly sexualized image while in teenager mode. As for Miley (who would end up employing Britney’s manager, Larry Rudolph, as well), we all know her gratitude for Tish pushing her to “break out of her shell” (by breaking out of her clothes) reached an apex with the 2019 track, “Mother’s Daughter.” A song in which she relishes, “I’m nasty, I’m evil/Must be something in the water or that I’m my mother’s daughter.”
What is this mother-daughter relationship, anyway? Other than a dispensation with any sort of boundaries. Can you, as a person with an intact sense of the macabre, really imagine ever being the type who would be like, “Here Mom, take this camera and sexualize me as best you can”? Of course, when the daughters in question are just children, they really don’t have much say in how they’re being conditioned to view this behavior as “normal”–mugging for the lens by thrusting her chest out and baring her midriff (Alana “Honey Boo Boo” Thompson style). Why wouldn’t she? Mama sanctioned it.
Then, of course, there is the Regina George ilk. While merely a fictional character, her persona is grounded in reality, as she is the one to pull all the strings on getting her mother to do whatever she wants, especially in terms of lax supervision and/or potential for consequences. In exchange for her “looseness” and “happy to document your ho is life ways,” Mrs. George is allowed occasional audiences with Regina and her friends, albeit only to serve the drinks (“virgin,” of course–“What kind of mother do you think I am? Why, do you want a little bit? Because if you’re going to drink I’d rather you do it in the house”).
This ghoulish obsession with staying youthful by siphoning some of it from one’s daughter so often leads to said spawn’s numerous psychological issues later on in life–Lindsay Lohan and Britney Spears being among the most overt examples. And you have to wonder if that woman’s own mother did something to set off the chain in this perverse cycle of wanting to be “slut ho besties” with their daughter. Grandma is so often the Supreme of such a fraught psychological web, after all.
Another fictional example of the daughter who, like Regina George, instead tries to manipulate her mother into that role of subservient slore is Quinn Morgendorffer from Daria. Namely in the season two episode, “Pierce Me,” in which Quinn talks Helen into participating in a mother-daughter fashion show. Reluctantly, Helen agrees, heading to a day spa with Quinn where she instructs, “And remember, Mom, cute is not a look, it’s not an attitude… it’s a way of being.” Particularly if you have your mother there to help ensure you look your “cutest” (read: most cum-worthy). Ironically, Helen was the one to point out at the beginning of the episode, “Who wants to parade around in some ridiculous outfit?” “With your mother,” Quinn chimes in with disgust. It’s only when Fashion Club president Sandi Griffin and her mother decide to participate that Quinn changes her tune, reeling Helen into the competitive drama. When Helen ends up getting caught at the mall by her workplace superior and his niece, her sense of shame finally fully kicks in as she says, “I was just trying to be a good parent–oh my God, what have I done?”
If only more mothers could ask themselves that question sooner, before sending their daughter down the path of Damaged Goods Lane, kitty-corner to Inappropriate Relationship Way. Alas, to examine too closely the answer would mean Mother might actually feel enough pang of a conscience to put the camera down. Though, in some cases, that can result in an even stranger fate (see: “Little” Edie Bouvier-Beale).
