If you’ve always wanted to dip your toe in at the pool of Malibu Barbie’s beach house, Kim Petras’ latest single is probably the best way to do it without some kind of Tyra Banks in Life-Size narrative befalling you. Frothy and unapologetically pop, Petras has declared that this is all part of a larger plan to make “big, escapist pop records that just make you happy and make you want to dance.” Despite releasing two “entities” to comprise her discography, Petras has yet to lay claim to an official album, stating that she’s been spending time working on one that will make her feel as though she’s created a separate sonic world, replete with the fantasy-drenched stylings of concept records like Gwen Stefani’s Love. Angel. Music. Baby. and Madonna’s Confessions on a Dance Floor.
“Malibu” feels like a step in the right direction to establish that kind of landscape. And, as with everyone else who saw the environment portrayed in TV and film, Petras wants to uphold that fantasy version of it, the one that captivated her while she was in Germany thinking about how “it seemed like this magical place. I just knew it from TV and movies, like Baywatch. Those super cheesy versions of Malibu, which it’s actually not like.” That doesn’t mean Petras won’t try to keep the alternate illusion of it alive. Not just with a notion like Moon Tanning Oil (as though Malibu is so magic you can even tan there at night), but ardent lyrics reminiscent of an 80s romance complete with a drive in a Delorean down the Pacific Coast Highway. For yes, it seems that we keep turning to the past for nostalgic visions (also present on Dua Lipa’s Future Nostalgia) of a better future than the one that appears to be on the horizon.
No longer harboring symptoms of a broken heart, Petras is awash in the glow not just of a Malibu tan, but also the promise of new love as she sings evocatively, “Ooh, baby, you left me tingling/My nails soft peach and the sea salt’s sinking in/Ooh, baby, I don’t need anything/It’s all been beachy since you came crashing in/And all your kisses taste like Malibu.” If one is to make a correlation to the sense of taste that the flavor of Malibu might invoke, it would probably be money and silicone. But Petras more likely wants us to associate it with cocoa butter and Curaçao liqueur (Curaçao, in point of fact, almost feels like it’s name checked as frequently as Malibu).
As the breath of fresh pop-driven air everyone could use right now despite going into an uncertain summer, the visualizer that accompanies the song is filled with glistening skin and oversized “Malibu-style” tits. As Petras rubs Moon Tan Oil over herself with acrylics completely intact (as though she had her manicurist come over during quarantine), the scene cuts to the factory where the oil is being mass produced, a symbol of the same mass produced visions of Malibu Petras was sold while still in Germany. Packaged in a bottle that looks like it was ripped straight from the prototypes of Paris Hilton and Britney Spears’ perfume packaging, the visualizer is billed as a sort of infomercial, inviting viewers to “Call now!” The area code, fittingly, being 949, which every Angeleno knows is in the Orange County jurisdiction. Nowhere near Malibu. But then, that’s the irony. Dreams of L.A. are manufactured in places like “the OC” and San Fernando Valley, with only the truly affluent ever knowing what Malibu will “taste” like.
For those who might never make it, Petras offers a utopian vision that is perhaps best left unchallenged.
