Wags are back in the spotlight. Okay, so we are in the middle of a World Cup, but Kicks, a spunky new film about two Liverpool girls pursuing a footballer, is giving real-life Wags a run for their money with its heart-warming story of limited aspirations. Director Lindy Heymann and young lead Kerrie Hayes talk to TARA BRADYabout soccer, sex and girl power.
LAST weekend, with two underwhelming World Cup performances to consider, seasoned sports pundits were ready to variously attribute the inadequacies of the England team prior to Wednesday’s 1-0 victory over Slovenia to the absence of Joe Cole, the negative polarity generated by Lampard and Gerrard, Congenital English Football Dysfunction, altitude, latitude, the lightness of the ball and the weight of expectation.
Most commentators were agreed that Fabio Capello should ease up on his charges, give them a night off. A quick go on the XBox and more time with their significant others would surely jolly the squad toward victory. There was not much wrong here, argued the collective, that could not be rectified by two missions on Red Dead Redemptionand the stimulating camaraderie of such celebrated persons as Chantelle Tagoe, a graduate of Liverpool's lap-dancing scene and the romantic companion of misfiring forward Emile Heskey, or Abigail Clancy, who made her name in gentlemen's publications before she became a household brand as the fixture on Peter Crouch's arm.
As their partners wallowed in defeat, the Wags had mustered a crucial last-minute equaliser. Less than a week had passed since columnist India Knight conducted a thorough Wag postmortem in the pages of the Sunday Times, adding further amplification to a swelling chorus of disapproval that began in 2008, when defender Rio Ferdinand blamed the Wags for England's failings on the pitch. "I think we got caught up in the whole . . . Wag situation," moaned the centre-back. "There was a big show around the whole England squad. It was like a theatre unfolding, and football became a secondary element."
The Wag was done for, spoke the mavens. Cheryl Cole’s departure from her reputedly miserable marriage and Capello’s decree that no Wag should set forth on South African soil until the conclusion of the group stages were but the death throes of a genus ill-suited to post-recessionary times.
Foolish mortals, the subjects of this dismissive analysis seemed to snort, as the tabloids soon recanted and pleaded for their intervention.
To the untrained eye, perhaps, the Wag may look like a precarious, ramshackle subset drawn from the ranks of the frivolous end of celebrity culture. If only the authors of the premature obituary notices had watched Kicks, a whip-smart new drama based around the misadventures of two wannabe Wags, they might have realised that this particular breed have far more Darwinian muster than the naughty heiresses and reality TV refugees with whom they share column inches.
"The idea of the Wag certainly isn't dead on the street or in magazines," says Kicksdirector Lindy Heymann. "When we were developing the script I was shocked to realise the term Wag has only been around for four years. It feels like something that has been around forever. Right now, people may reject the idea of the Wag because of what's happening economically, but one of the most interesting things about that culture, whether we like it or not, is its broad appeal. Even those who claim they aren't interested do glance at the magazines and can tell you what's happening with Cheryl Cole."
A simultaneously sensitive and fevered coming-of-age drama, Kicksfollows two mixed-up adolescents – shy 15-year-old latchkey kid Nicole (the excellent Kerrie Hayes) and boisterous nouveau-riche Jasmine ( StreetDance's Nichola Burley) – as they bond over their mutual admiration for Liverpool FC hero Lee (Jamie Doyle).
Carousing around Merseyside, it does not take long for our enterprising heroines to get their claws into Golden Boots, but what starts out as a shared crush and a night on the tiles soon takes an infinitely darker turn.
“It’s an entirely different kind of celebrity culture than the one I grew up with,” says Heymann. “What makes these girls different is their proximity to the object of their affections. The nature of teen obsession used to be about the relationship with the posters on your wall. But in Liverpool, where the film is set, footballers are completely accessible. Teenagers go to the same clubs as the players. And, with Liverpool specifically, where there’s such a strong sense of loyalty around the club, feelings of love and abandonment are that bit more heightened.”
Though it shares generic beats with Miseryand The King of Comedy, Heymann's thriller subtly teases out the psychology of the Wag into a fully fledged hypothesis. The girls' fixation is, the film suggests, a symptom of a greater malaise brought about by absent fathers and brothers, mothers who act like peers not parents, and very muddled ideas about empowerment.
“I’m not sure how this became so mainstream, as it seems to have snuck up on us,” says the director. “I suspect it goes back to the Spice Girls and Girl Power. I remember seeing them on TV and thinking, ‘If you’re getting a boob job and wiggling your bum, it’s not actually feminism’. In reality Girl Power was all about selling lad’s magazines. Inevitably, 10- or 12 year-old girls are going to get confused if feminism is nothing more than a pop song. We need to be very conscious about what our celebrities are saying to young girls.”
Girl Power may well have provided some kind of catalyst but, as far as historical record goes, David and Victoria Beckham had exchanged vows, spawned oddly named children and endured marital infidelities long before "Wag" had properly entered the lexicon. An acronym for "wives and girlfriends", the term first appeared in newsprint in 2002, when the Sunday Telegraphreported on the English training camp at Jumeirah Beach Club in Dubai.
It took a second World Cup campaign, however, for the concept to gain popular currency. As the wives and girlfriends camped around the German town of Baden-Baden, hitting the shops with unlimited pomp and credit, the ensuing tabloid kerfuffle ensured that this new capitalised abbreviation would inspire a lengthy think piece in the New Yorkerand find its way into the Oxford Dictionary and common usage. The widely publicised 2006 antics of Victoria Beckham, Cheryl Cole and Coleen Rooney would, moreover, codify our understanding of the term.
The Wag was not simply a chavette with a platinum card. She stood for something: good grooming. Her sunbed bronze, potentially lethal talons, uranium-bleached teeth, cascading hair extensions, semi-perm eyeliner and (already) anachronistic love of bling may not have tallied with the standards laid down by the Mitford sisters, but it did constitute a dress code no less rigorous and demanding than anything cooked up by, say, the courtiers of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. Lethal doses of lead powder? Ha. The Wag look requires a much greater devotion to aesthetic values.
“It’s extraordinary,” says Lindy Heymann. “Especially in places like Liverpool and Newcastle, where a night out can require a week’s planning. It’s quite a culture shock. These girls do look amazing in this very professional way. But it’s so extreme. And there are knock-on effects and practical considerations – the level of alcohol required to keep you warm while you brace the cold Liverpool night air in a halter-neck dress is not insignificant.”
Kerrie Hayes, the remarkable young lead of Kicks, is inclined to agree. "It didn't require much research for me to draw this character," says the 23-year-old Liverpudlian. "I've grown up around these girls. When I was younger I even did the dressing-up. But I liked my coat and my warmth too much to stick with it."
Can it be an accident that the rise of the Wag has coincided with an unprecedented dependency on tanning salons and, according to the Irish Cancer Society, a 92 per cent rise in the national incidence of skin cancer since the late 1990s? Hardly.
Had time spent on mascara and ablutions been diverted elsewhere, might we have new designs for interplanetary propulsion systems or a proof for Riemann theory? It’s possible. A key component of Wag thinking, however, is the complete dismissal of such intellectual snobbery. While others scoff and scapegoat, the Wags have been busy selling perfumes, designing clothes and building empires: Carly Zucker, wife of Joe Cole, is a player in the spa industry; Lisa Roughead, wife of Michael Carrick, is a Pilates teacher with a business degree. Others are assuming the same fashionable alms-giving duties once pioneered by the late Princess Diana (a proto-Wag, surely, despite her privileged background).
“The Wags are repositioning the brand,” says Heymann. “They’re out doing charity work. They’re shifting away from the crass display of material goods. They know those days are over.”
As Chantelle Tagoe’s recent tour of a Cape Town orphanage for a BBC3 documentary demonstrates, the Wag is back, and she’s better than ever: she’s kind, she’s caring, but she’s still wearing a €420 Chanel belt.
Kicksopens at Queen's Film Theatre, Belfast, on Tuesday
