The Coquettification of Catholicism

So… we need to talk about the aesthetic chokehold Catholicism has on the chronically online right now. Because suddenly everyone’s dressed like they’re either about to confess or seduce a priest. Or both.

We are in the era of coquette Catholicism, and it’s not just some Pinterest-core moodboard moment, it’s everywhere. Rosary beads as accessories. Virginal lace veils with red lipstick. Girls quoting the Book of Psalms in their captions and then posting back-arched selfies in corsets two slides later. It’s Lana Del Rey meets Vatican City. It’s the Madonna-whore complex repackaged as moodboard theology. It’s hot.

But also, it’s deeper than just vibes.

Historically, Catholic art was always theatrical. The entire point was to seduce the soul through beauty, Bernini’s Ecstasy of Saint Teresa? Literally looks like she’s about to moan. Gold-leaf halos, bleeding hearts, tragic martyr expressions, like sorry but the iconography was always serving. Baroque drama? Peak Catholic.

What’s happening now is that the coquette girlies are reviving this exact energy. They’re reclaiming the sacred and romanticizing guilt. There’s something powerful about that. In a world where everything is supposed to be ironic, these girls are like “actually, I do believe in original sin, but only if it’s styled with tulle and a slip dress.”

And fashion’s playing along. Dolce & Gabbana, Jean Paul Gaultier, even Jacquemus (quietly) have all flirted with ecclesiastical silhouettes. There’s something about a high neckline and a little crucifix that suddenly feels more provocative than a mini skirt ever could. It’s not modesty. It’s restraint with an agenda.

This is not religion, it’s an aesthetic theology. It’s girls in confession booths with glossed lips. It’s buying votive candles from a Brooklyn concept store. It’s quoting Corinthians in a breakup text. It’s a rosary draped across your Dior clutch. Divine femininity, but make it archangel-coded.

It’s not anti-faith. It’s not blasphemous. It’s post-ironic reverence. It’s the performance of piety in a post-Y2K digital world. It’s guilty and gorgeous.

And honestly? Amen.