At the end of our staff meeting, some fellow Ink writers and I conversed about what our songs of the summer were. It was a conversation where notorious releases were mentioned and artists I’ve never heard about were introduced. As it became my turn and I attempted to share my love for “Charm,” one staff member quickly stated how Clairo immediately brought her back to her high school self and saw the singer as “Mitski for teenage white girls with no emotional depth.” It was clear that my ardor for “Charm” wasn’t as universal as I wanted it to be. Once the topic had changed, I was left to reflect on why I cared for an album like “Charm.” I’ve never been one to turn to Clairo for consolation. Her name was only ever typed out on my Apple Music to pair her with my teenage self to reminiscence. With hits like “Bags,” “Pretty Girl,” and “4EVER,” she’d cultivated a period of my youth, where I’d listen to her as I waited for the school bus in the morning and in the afternoon once dropped off, racing home to watch “The Amazing World of Gumball.” Curious to understand why her image had changed in my mind, I shuffled through her recent album once again. This wasn’t the first time Clairo had talked about human connection, but it felt deeper than before. The voice of “Charm” serenading me wasn’t the bedroom pop girl I once was fond of, but a woman with a newfound confidence, strengthened individuality and a more mature, timeless sound.
I first listened to “Charm” in a hot, stuffy, parked car. I had been anticipating its release since “Sexy to Someone,” the first single off the album and a song that I would immediately add to the queue whenever I had aux. The air was unfriendly as I turned off the engine and opened the windows to preserve my gas. As I turned the sound up, I rolled my seat back and looked outside. By the time I reached track three, “Second Nature,” I felt a new emotion arise. Above the window were the leaves of the branch that aided me in shade. Between its edges the sun peeked through, its rays radiating the car first and then me. A situation where I normally would have been antsy from the heat and driven off was transformed into a memorable, comely moment where I took in what lay before my eyes, in its beauty. Komorebi is a Japanese word that translates to “sunlight leaking through trees.” I finished the album in awe of the experience Clairo created, one that forever follows me whenever the melodies of this album are played.
It’s easy to think of aesthetics when talking about femininity. A category in fashion, its image holds bows, skirts, light coloring, soft makeup looks and many more in its catalog. However, what I wish to talk about transcends a Pinterest board. It comes from within. Femininity lies at the very core of one’s essence. It’s in the eye of the beholder, and how people wish to display their femininity is solely up to them. This is why I believe it is something soft and sacred.
If one were to unravel my body, they’d peel off layers of my personalities and ideologies before they get to the center, the very core of my being. It helps make up the person you come face to face with. It allows me to have fortitude, and reminds me to view things from a different perspective. It helps me stay firm in my autonomy as it’s the voice that lets me know my feelings are valid. In “Reflections on Clairo,” a self portrait by the artist herself in Byline Magazine, Clairo said, “I feel beautiful on this record, I feel like a woman, I feel like a girl.” After reading this, I couldn’t help but gain even more love for the album, because Clairo has shown the world her true essence with this record. It’s influenced me to reflect on my own. A sun that overcasts all of my actions with its warmth, femininity is what lies within the nature of my individuality. Despite my growing and changing, it keeps me grounded and in tune with my body and mind. Just like the huge star in the sky, it’s (somewhat) stable and radiant. Lighting my path, it helps me walk into unknown territories with an optimistic point of view.
“Thank You,” track five on the album, showed me a hint of Clairo’s self-discovery as she speaks about how she faces the idea of someone new being in her life. In the beginning of the song she states the main three reasons she tends to walk away from a connection, “We don’t get on, can’t make you laugh, personality.” She alludes that she had reflected on her past relationships and who she was when she was in them. In the chorus we get her conclusion as she sings, “I really hate to admit it / I put my pride on the line / ‘Cause when I met you, I knew it / I’d thank you for your time.” Clairo has grown to understand her habits and herself, she knows what she likes and doesn’t. However, despite knowing that, she tried something new, which granted her growth.
The lyric “You make me wanna try on feminine” from “Juna,” was a line that stood out to me after the first listen. To have that desire to showcase your femininity means to be transparent to the one that you love. This is what “Charm” showed me. The inclination only appears when there’s a sense of safety. This is only fitting as we tend to guard our personalities before showcasing 100% of ourselves when meeting someone new. With every meeting, we expose a little more of ourselves and they start to accept the person we are. Then, like breathing, there’s no need for instructions on how to act around them. We can belt songs in the car without worry, say jokes without writing them down beforehand, know they’re the right person to cry to and enjoy the tranquil silence that fills the room as we sit together. Good friendships feel like found families, as they’re the people who take the time to understand us. They build homes as they continue to appreciate our beings without judgment.
Clairo mentioned that when she showed the album to her friends, they reacted by saying, “This is so you.” There’s a love in amity that will always be there and continue to grow, and this creates a net that we can fall back on whenever things get rough. It would only make sense that we’d trust them with something treasured as femininity.
“Juna” isn’t the only song that resonates with my thoughts. Sonically, the album has many characteristics that fit together perfectly to create an environment that makes one want to put on a “new dress” and dance around the room. Aside from the lyrics, the album portrays that perfectly sonically. The use of the piano throughout the album can come across as giddy and whimsical. A vital component, it adds character in songs like “Terrapin.” Before its solo, it’s as if clouds are passing, covering its sky as it’s yelling for attention. The zephyr that rustles through the album is the flute. It’s animated and helps the songs move beautifully as it takes over the chorus of “Glory of the Snow” and “Sexy to Someone.” Reminiscent of the ground, the guitar strings help the listener find their footing as they look up and enjoy the scenery “Charm” offers. A prime example is their use in “Nomad,” as they ground themselves in the earth, rooted throughout the song. As listeners enjoy the foundation of the guitar, what lies behind them is their shadow, the synthesizer. It glides in the background of songs; eerie yet tranquil.
In “Sexy to Someone,” the second track, Clairo sings about the desire to be longed for by someone. To be viewed as sexy, or “get the part” as she sings in the pre-chorus. Feeling very seen, I listened as Clairo sang thoughts I had kept quietly to myself. I didn’t necessarily want to be sexy, but to feel wanted and desired in the eyes of another. The branch that soaks the rays the sun of femininity brings, sensuality is the exploration of our senses as a whole. Like the many leaves that hang on a branch, the word has many experiences that belong to it. Sensuality is the tug in your heart when you see someone you admire; the way your nerves rise when that person is near and the ease your body feels once they become someone familiar. The bodily reaction of when charmed is something I found portrayed perfectly in “Slow Dance,” where Clairo giggles in the background of the track. It reminded me of how you tend to find everything funny with that one person. Getting to hear Clairo sing about this infatuation was refreshing and allowed me to appreciate my thoughts instead of feeling ashamed, in other words made me respect my emotions.
Beside the physical senses that heighten when charmed by someone is our intellect, a twig that’s grown from the branch of sensuality. The constant fear of the future is common when attempting to cross the bridge that is a relationship. Not set in stone, the bridge can either crumple under the dance of two people or become sturdy as their choreography becomes well-versed. This fear is portrayed clearly on the first track, “Pier 4, ” where she sings “What’s the cost of it, of being loved? / When close is not close enough.” She also reverts it back to physical sensuality in the last verse, “Playing out moments where there was a touch / With strangers touching everywhere / you wonder if he knows she’s gonna run.”
To go through the steps of being charmed — the initial meeting, finding little things that remind you of them, and wondering how they’ll be a part of your life — is a risk that many of us choose to take. That force that pushes us to follow our hearts is part of the beauty of limerence, a gift we shouldn’t take for granted. It allows us to gain new perspectives on ourselves by learning how we wish to love others and vice versa. The questions that arise when charmed by someone, and the answers given as you learn more about them all bask under komorebi, as it takes one to feel comfortable in oneself to appreciate the nature of the said connection.
Clairo gave me the summer I needed. One where I stopped and looked up at the world around me, and where the leaves seemed greener and the sun was brighter. Basking in nature, I learned more about our human pathos,and how much I oh so appreciate being one. The fear of getting close to someone, falling into heartbreak, being wanted, sharing an intimate moment, and laughter, I came to look at everything under the scope of admiration.
Graphics by Isabelle Samay