In this op-ed, writer Ana Beatriz Reitz Gameiro argues that multiple album variants from artists like Taylor Swift, Sabrina Carpenter, Cardi B, and more are fueled by both capitalism and pressure on women musicians.
When we think of recent iconic albums, it’s not just the songs that come to mind, but also their covers. Think of Lana Del Rey’s Norman Fucking Rockwell!, with its moody, comic book-style aesthetic. Then there’s Beyoncé’s futuristic, disco-glam Renaissance. And let’s not forget Charli XCX’s grotesque neon green BRAT. Sometimes, an image really is worth a thousand words. And in 2025, some musicians are taking that literally, rolling out multiple alternative covers for a single album.
This isn’t exactly groundbreaking — for example, Taylor Swift has been mastering the art of alternate covers for years, from the woodsy charm of folklore to the moody black-and-white options of The Tortured Poets Department. But the twist this year? The trend has officially escalated.
We are getting unique poems, people\!
On June 11, Sabrina Carpenter announced her upcoming album, Man’s Best Friend. The original cover featured the star kneeling on the floor while a man pulled her hair. It didn’t take long for Carpenter’s picture to set off a big debate online. Some netizens posted that the cover looked misogynistic or overtly sexual — a label that has followed the musician since she was dropping innuendo-laden “Nonsense” outros in 2022. In the weeks following the entire tumult, Carpenter unveiled four alternative covers. In one, the artist is surrounded by a bunch of vibrant flowers in a well-lit room. In another, she is at a fancy restaurant table surrounded by five men who all kind of look the same. And in a third, she references the quintessential Marilyn Monroe. Lastly, there’s the exclusive Spotify picture disc, which features Carpenter lying on grass with a dog by her side.
The phenomenon didn’t stop with the “Tears” singer. In July, Mariah Carey revealed two sleek B&W alternate covers for her recent album Here For It All, which dropped September 26. Cardi B, never one to miss a trend, followed suit. In the midst of court appearances and many headlines, the rapper unveiled a lineup of alternate covers for her forthcoming album Am I The Drama?, out September 19. The covers include some of her most viral courtroom facial expressions, a pink extravaganza, a retro-futuristic ’60s vibe, and even a bob moment.
Naturally, Swift re-entered the chat. After announcing The Life of a Showgirl on her beau’s podcast, the star released the cover of her new album, featuring her lying in a bathtub and modeling a silver embellished bra. Much like Carpenter’s first artwork, Swift’s album imagery stirred controversy, though for entirely different reasons. Many fans felt comfortable saying that Swift wasn’t “serving” and lacked sex appeal, in what has become a common criticism over the years. After the storm, five alternate versions dropped — all, coincidentally or not, dialing up the sultry factor, with some individuals even saying it was too much. Now, we’re at nine total variant covers for The Life of a Showgirl.
Mert Alaz & Marcus Piggott/TAS Rights Management
Mert Alaz & Marcus Piggott/TAS Rights Management
Photography by Mert Alas & Marcus Piggott
In all of those cases, the question arises: Do alternative covers enhance or obscure the album’s identity? And what do they say about the pressures (and their capitalist origins) that women artists in particular face to constantly show new sides of themselves to sell more and more and more?
As more and more music floods streaming platforms, creating a distinctive, memorable visual identity has become just as crucial as making good music, at least when it comes to pop. Brat summer changed the course of Charli XCX’s career, not because the music was radically different from her past work, but because she combined great tunes with unforgettable album art and aesthetic.
Pile on too many visuals, though, and instead of immersing listeners and tackling complexity, an album era compromises its narrative and risks saying nothing at all. Hear me out: This is not the case with Swift’s and Carey’s alternate covers. Despite their variations, they both center on one visual identity: Swift’s in the glittering showgirl fantasy her title teases, and Carey’s in a nostalgic, sultry, ‘90s elegance. We get the message, while upon looking Carpenter’s covers for Man’s Best Friend and Cardi B’s for Am I The Drama?, I’m still unsure what their albums are trying to say, despite the beautiful yet wildly different visuals.
It’s simple: Sometimes less is more, in the sense of choosing fewer items, but more higher-quality ones. It’s just like fashion — a strong collection doesn’t rely on endless looks, it thrives on a few strong pieces that clearly tell a story. An album concept works the same way. Overall, alternative covers can blur an album’s message rather than reinforce it, tossing away all notions of visual identity.
Visual identity, however, does not seem to be the biggest concern for artists today. The biggest concern, seemingly ruling every creative move in the industry, is chart success, the bona fide metric of cultural relevance in the modern age. In case you’ve missed the memo, when an artist rules the charts it signals more than just popularity with its endless streams, radio play, and constant chatter. It also marks commercial performance — sales! money! — which is, ultimately, the golden ticket that every record label, and many artists themselves, craves.
The capitalistic logic to maximize profit 24/7 has spread to every corner of human life, including the entertainment industries. Nowhere is this more evident than in music. Major record labels are driven by profit-focused decisions, often turning a blind eye to risk or innovation, backing artists only if they are deemed commercial enough. It’s no coincidence that the most “commercial” names are constantly churning out deluxe editions, alternative covers, and anything else that can be sold.The alternative cover craze, then, fits our age effortlessly — an era defined by mass production and relentless consumption.
But here’s something you’ve probably noticed: The boom in alternate album covers is mostly a female pop star thing. Why is that? Maybe it’s less about artistic vision and more about keeping everyone happy.
From a very young age, women are raised to satisfy everyone, to be people pleasers. We are taught to smile, to be accommodating and nurturing. We shrink ourselves on the subway, hunching over so we don’t take up space, while the guy next door throws himself into the classic macho pose, legs spread wide to mark his territory. Ultimately, we are taught to put others’ happiness before our own.
In the entertainment industry, the rules are no different. Female artists are expected to appeal to everyone despite their target audiences. They are encouraged to create controversy but not too much; going too far could damage a career. The fact that Swift’s album was criticized for lacking sex appeal, while Carpenter’s was deemed too overtly sexual, exposes a harsh truth: for women, there is no such thing as “enough.”
Courtesy of Sabrina Carpenter/Island Records via Lede Company
Courtesy of Sabrina Carpenter/Island Records
Sure, male musicians play with alternative album covers, too. They too — like women artists — have their own capitalist goals in mind when launching an album. But the changes they make, at least in modern pop music, don’t feel as substantial as what we’ve seen from women superstars. Think Ed Sheeran’s Autumn Variations, with plenty of “limited” editions that kind of all look the same. Deluxe versions that add tracks but stay within a more narrow visual identity. The album can just exist.
Unlike women, men aren’t raised to feel the need to please everyone. Rather, they are often raised to follow their goals and their own values. The result ends up being a double standard so obvious that it’s even visible in the music industry and creation of albums.
All of this feels like a relentless déjà vu. We’ve had this conversation over and over. Movies may deliver poignant messages through deep monologues, and some songs may declare “f*ck the patriarchy.” But we’re still dealing with gender disparities that cannot be ignored — especially now, as rising conservatism targets trans people, women, and fundamental human rights.
Ultimately, regardless of gender, the abundance of alternative covers reveals the many mechanisms of capitalism and can compromise the album’s identity. By trying to say too much, an artist can end up saying nothing at all. Fans hear an album name and will imagine a thousand images, possibly missing the artist’s intended message. This risk contributes to the mass production and overconsumption that clog up landfills and harm the environment.
It’s the artist’s (and their label’s) choice whether to take that risk or not, and they make their choices in the belly of the entertainment industry beast, a beast that often eats women alive. Still, those choices have consequences; keep feeding the beast and he only gets hungrier.
Originally Appeared on Teen Vogue
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