Surely, you’ve seen her: a wide-eyed adolescent bedecked with bows, brandishing her sparkly scepter. A schoolgirl by day and a superhero by night, entrusted to save the world with the sheer power of her femininity. She’s Sailor Moon’s Usagi, Cardcaptor Sakura’s Sakura, Puella Magi Madoka Magica’s Madoka. She’s a magical girl. And all of a sudden, she’s everywhere.
Jimmy Choo released a line of Sailor Moon products in 2023, then again in November. Sandy Liang is perennially making clothes for Usagi stans. In the fall, Polyester zine and the culture newsletter mixed feelings threw a magical-girl-themed party, complete with a costume contest. And just last month, Gentle Monster released a collection inspired by the genre, complete with a bejeweled scepter — an accessory once only available through smalltime cosplay purveyors.
Not too long ago, the genre was relatively niche in America — while you might have watched Sailor Moon on Cartoon Network’s “Toonami” block, anime never really caught on enough to be considered mainstream. But in the past decade or so, that changed. Print manga sales took off in 2020 and now account for nearly half of all graphic-novel sales in the US. In 2021, anime tie-in films Demon Slayer: Mugen Train and Jujutsu Kaisen 0 earned $49.5 million and $34.5 million at the domestic box office, respectively. And while Hollywood has leaned hard into boy-coded shōnen with One Piece and Naruto adaptations, shōjo — girls’ manga and anime, of which magical girls are a part — has permeated the culture, and fashion in particular.
Given that manga creators, or mangaka, like Sailor Moon’s Naoko Takeuchi and NANA’s Ai Yazawa were such avowed fashion fans themselves, frequently transposing designs from Chanel, Mugler, and Vivienne Westwood, it only makes sense that the influence would come back around. And indeed, from kaomoji-emblazoned accessories to stuffed-animal bag charms, to jellyfish and hime haircuts, kawaii — the ultrafemme, ultracute style that characterizes magical girls, along with other shōjo heroines — is now impossible to ignore. No longer limited to cosplay, the magical girl can be seen in indie brands like Jenny Fax and Florentina Leitner, in Instagram favorites like Lirika Matoshi and Selkie, and even at the Grammys.
So why now? In part, it could be the inevitable outcome of magical-girl fans growing up and making money. (The Jimmy Choo collab in particular, at $695 to $2,395 per pair, suggests that at least some former Toonami devotees have reached the top of the economic ladder.) But it could also be that everyone just wants to have a little fun with their clothes. “I think we’re experiencing a huge mental health crisis and it’s resulting in an era where adults need an outlet to just play,” says Logan Tsugita, art director at mixed feelings who also works at Allure and SELF. Tsugita points to the popularity of Sonny Angels and Labubu toys, but also to memes. “I think we’re back to using magical girls as avatars and alter egos.”
At the mixed feelings event, founding editor Mi-Anne Chan (who also oversees video for Teen Vogue, Them, and Glamour)says she witnessed this firsthand. “What was so heartwarming to see at the party was how many people were so enthralled and excited to see the clothing,” she says of the crowd, dressed in Shushu/Tong, Simone Rocha, Sandy Liang, and Allina Liu, accessorized with wings, wands, and all manner of sparkly makeup. “Sofia Coppola, who is the patron saint of girlhood, was there taking videos of some of the people who were dressed up, and it felt so special. It felt like we were part of a moment.”
For longtime fans, it can feel like everyone else is late to the party. Gia Kuan, a New York-based fashion publicist who grew up in Taiwan, has loved shōjo manga for almost as long as she’s been able to read. “I've been collecting the first edition of Sailor Moon since I was 7 years old with my first pocket money,” she says. “Even now, I have maybe four giant bookcases dedicated to manga. And I still watch anime.” Kuan’s personal style is partly informed by kawaii aesthetics, and Sailor Moon influenced the pink, star-accented branding for her company. “That very innocent, soft pink, glittery, hazy aesthetic has always been appealing to me,” she says.
If part of the magical girl’s rise is tied to anime’s mainstream-ification, it’s also been buoyed by the Great Girlhood Revival. It began in 2023 with the so-called Year of the Girl — which featured the smash success of the Barbie movie, the frenzy around the Taylor Swift and Beyoncé tours, a smattering of internet-born phrases (girl math, girl dinner, the 30-year-old teenage girl) — and hasn’t really left. Bows are still everywhere. People are still “she’s so me”-ing baby animals. NewJeans is still NewJeansing.
While frequently delightful (frills and sparkles! embracing your inner child!), the Great Girlhood Revival has its downsides. It borders on the regressive: a collective dream of self-infantilization designed to help us “I’m just a girl” our way out of taking responsibility. The magical girl, though, subverts this trap. She marries her bows and silks with resistance — as the chosen one imbued with special powers, the weight of the world is often on her shoulders. Maybe, in the denouement of the Great Girlhood Revival, the magical girl offers an off-ramp.
“You look at someone like a Usagi, and she is not your prototypical female protagonist,” Chan says. “She's messy. She's complaining all the time. She's a teenage girl, but she still has this ability to call upon this strength to defeat the big bad.”
It’s not that the magical girl has evaded patriarchy — far from it. She’s thin, beautiful, ethereal — always an angel, never a god. She’s forced to care for others in addition to herself, to code-switch between identities. But at least she’s found some power of her own. Oh, and she gets to dress up.
