Whatever She Wants

Trickonomics

We all remember the spotify wrapped thing right. Well last year, 2024, I found out that my top song of the year was Whatever She Wants by Bryson Tiller. Yes the song that begs the question to all those who listen, have you ever put a bad bitch in designer? The song about taking her bougie ass to Rodeo and letting her pick up whatever she wants. As the name suggests. Yes, that song.

I developed an almost odd fascination with the essence of this song and perhaps with its underlying messaging. You see, upon first listen, you may reduce the song's merits to the ramblings of a frustrated but ostensibly wealthy man who would do anything for his lady. In a way, you’re not wrong, but perhaps there’s more to this. Perhaps there are more layers, like an onion. Or perhaps this is all a justification for a bit that went on wayyyyyy too long. I don’t know.

For months I played this song, sometimes on repeat, must to the disdain of anyone around me. In fact, it became intertwined with another bit I was doing at the time and sort of formed an amalgamation that has rewired my brain in certain ways. The bit was essentially presenting left-wing ideas through a red-blooded American pseudo-conservative grifter almost southern lawyer Doug Dimmadome voice but the character also really loved to buy trinkets for his wife. Real Joe Rogan of the left type of guy, I guess. Snoopy keychains to Birkin bags. All the sorts. This intertwined with my obsession with the song via my repeated allusions to my inability to “get her whatever she wants” and “never being able to get her that birkin” in reference to my cyclical unemployment. I vividly remember this one day I was with some of my friends and we took acid and I kept getting into that character screaming in agony that I got banned from the Bottega store in fear of telling my fictitious wife. Swimming around a pool, jorts on, eyes whirling the same as the water, yelling at the top of my lungs “FINE WE’LL GO TO DOVER STREET MARKET” at 9 am in my friend’s community pool. Later that day going to the art museum and lamenting to my friends that I couldn’t afford to buy her every piece, or any, in this exhibit due to the rising costs of everyday expenses such as gas, milk, and eggs. As the side quests progressed, my affection for the absurdity of it all grew and grew. All the while, the song Whatever She Wants was played several times in the background. It was a beautiful day.

I understand that this sounds like the ramblings of a madman but you’ll have to bare with me. There’s a meaning to the madness I think. I think that this song serves as a microcosm of so many things happening in society today but packaged in a catchy enough way and perhaps I’m looking too deep into it but that’s what I have time to do so I’ll be damned.

The ethos of this song is an appeal to the male fantasy. Sure that can be said about a lot of songs and realistically a large portion of media as a whole but I don’t believe that many other works distill such a concept into such a concise yet all-encompassing manner. The imagery of taking one’s partner, whether for the day or longer term, to a luxury retail establishment and indulging in their desires by financially emptying oneself for the sake of opulence and material joy. Real findom shit but he’s cool with it because he’s in control as he’s the one with the capital. At least that is what’s presented. Marx and such. The idea of being a provider is one tied with many “traditional” representations of masculinity. Much of this is in conjunction with capitalist societies' enforcement of gender roles in regard to labor and domestic life but we’ll loop back to this later. Shit, I’ll hunt and gather, whatever she wants! While the more relatable example of this is getting her whatever trinkets she wants at the market, this parallel still exists in a similar manner.

With all this being said, it’s equally as important to acknowledge the full terms of this exchange here. This financial expenditure is not being undertaken out of altruism or out of pure goodwill, there is still a transaction being made. Tiller mentions this as well stating that he knows “pussy power got me buyin’ shit again.” Although presented inversely, to some, such motivation to get her “whatever she wants” is in pursuit of cheeks. To fuck, however, you want to say it. Ball out for booty. Cheques for cheeks. Trickanomics. This intention is defined rather often within various mediums often by men describing women as gold diggers in accordance to their experiences or to create the image of desirability to others as gross displays of wealth often attract orbiters of various varieties. Financial contributions in exchange for sexualization. Something along those lines. Or rather this transaction is made to “domesticate” or keep one in the house because why would you need to be outside when you’re getting taken care of right here. I’m not going to do the fucking genius breakdown of the lyrics and I’m already stretching myself thin with this point but I’m referring to broader sociological implications.

I digress.

The “podcast discourse” surrounding modern gender roles and “who should be paying for this” is rooted in a lot of absurd and typically pretty inherently misogynistic sentiments that are divisive in their own ways and act to fuel culture war discussions distracting from class division. The absurdity behind all of this makes it easy to appreciate Tiller’s begrudging acceptance to fulfilling every one of her desires, acknowledging that she is spoiled but admitting he doesn’t care. The music video to accompany the track is also a pretty direct appeal to the male fantasy in a less subtle manner. Cars, jewelry, money, women shaking ass, all they’re missing is a couple of beers with the boys. You wish you could be him, maybe, I don’t know, but that’s what’s being sold. In a capitalist society, wealth accumulation is considered the metric of success. A large portion of men idolize other men due to their gross accumulation of wealth. Personally, I think that makes you a loser, but that’s not important. The flaunting of material goods and institutionally recognized currency is nothing more than a peacock dance. The parallels of wealth and power and its association with being an affirmation of masculinity definitely drive this point home but what do I know?

Let’s face it, you’re probably not getting her that Birkin. In this economy I mean, sheesh. Wealth these days is measured by how many eggs you have in the fridge right now. These are whole different worlds but the parallels exist in smaller ways. You need to make sure you can take care of your expenses and your own shit right? Such is the case in an individualistic society like ours but when the plane’s having oxygen issues you gotta put your mask on first before you help the person next to you right? I don’t know, I hate that idea. The economic conditions we are under do not exactly make it easy for an individual to play that kind of provider role. This isn’t as a means of excuse, and all comments of “if he wanted to he would” are subject to mail bombs to your postage, but rather an indictment of the general state of things. Of course, the Birkin example is entirely hyperbolic but we’re talking about the realm of the wealthy here, not us so this discussion can get a little circular if we’re not careful.

Home ownership is a pipe dream and you want a bag worth a Camry! Shit, I’d be mad too. It’s unsustainable to be a trick in this economy and I find that to be unacceptable. All this talk about cost-of-living blah blah blah I can’t take my wife to Bottega! Every man should be able to buy their partner a Birkin at least twice a month. Fuck it put them through grad school too! That’s my economic platform and I’ll die on that hill. Except of course, that’s not an issue I will ever have to deal with. When in my life am I ever going to drop 30,000 dollars on something to please someone? Probably not going to happen right? Exactly. Shit is a fantasy! Most of the people I talk to know of DSM as the book, not the store! Knowing this, it is funny to imagine yourself in that position. I feel that the utter disconnect between the material conditions being described in this song and those I see either around me or on my feed allows for this song to be appreciated in its most post-ironic way.

However, there is a sense of beauty to this idea of “Whatever she wants.” The idea of devotion is one that was taught to me at a fairly young age. Firstly it was devotion in the context of religion. That never really stuck with me as I struggled with faith all too much before abandoning it altogether but the idea of devotion still resonated. The concept of giving oneself in totality without concern of the return, but for one’s desire to do so. Devotion to a cause or a person, at the cost of myself, all the same. Devotion to me is something so beautiful, an almost obsessive force that absorbs the mind of distractions and offers a sense of purpose. Indeed I see not many greater motivators than devotion and I yearn for the capacity to give myself to anything in my full capacity. I yearn to be as devoted to anything as Bryson Tiller is to making sure she gets Whatever She Wants.

The idea of devotion is something that I explored a bit too heavily during another long-term bit. No, I’m not referring to my relationships, I’m referring to the Munchman bit. That whole character. The “Proud Munch” t-shirt bit in congruence with the word munch being in the zeitgeist because of Ice Spice and that run she was on. I’ve referred to the mind-numbing nature of turning one’s brain off to shake ass to some Ice Spice and there’s pros and cons I’ll say that much. In regards to the rest of the bit, the idea of a “munch” in a broader sense was something that intrigued me in a way. A munch as an individual devoted to their partner as much as they are to consumption. A munch in the sense of someone so committed to the bit they had no qualms with the mindless nature of their devotion as it was all they knew. A munch as in a character to embody these characteristics with the absurdity of sexuality as a whole. Not a pun. It is rather unfortunate that such a creation definitely does not hold up to the test of time but it is definitely for the best that Munchman died a long time ago. I felt that this idea of devotion is one that holds some similarities to those within Whatever She Wants perhaps less subtly and grotesquely.

Along the way, I think I got lost in it all. The absurdity, the boisterous claims of financial freedom beyond my wildest comprehension, the overlapping layers waiting to be dug through like layers of my skin on an anxious Thursday night, lost in the sauce. The loud echos of my yells “she piss me off, somehow she still get whatever she want (Uh-huh)” bouncing off each wall in some weak attempt to mask my regret in actually not being able to give them whatever they wanted. However, what they wanted was not tangible. It was not something on the SSENSE sale. No no. Anyways. The listing off of designer brands I wouldn’t give a shit about bar having some knowledge of during my fabric fiend days. The accelerationist descent into the latest stage of capitalism and the hellscape it shall bring. Such an overwhelming cacophony of noise to be lost in.

How the fuck this ended up as my top song I really couldn’t tell you but apparently getting really into a bit for too long can fuck up your algorithm or something like that. I think in the end we’re all just looking for someone to give them whatever they want, whatever that may be, or rather we should focus on ourselves in order to get to a position where we are able to do so.

I gotta find a way to get unbanned from Bottega Veneta.

The song in question in case anyone hasn’t heard it 80 times on the ig story.