The Summer I Turned Pretty has three things going for it by this point. First, the source material: the beloved books by Jenny Han, who’s thankfully very involved in the making and marketing of the Amazon Prime adaptation. Second, the ridiculously good chemistry between Steven (Sean Kaufman) and Taylor (Rain Spencer), who are now single-handedly stealing the spotlight from the familial love triangle at the centre. And finally, the absurdly large music budget. This show knows its audience: adolescents who have the time to queue all day for the barricade at an Olivia Rodrigo concert and late-twenties women vaguely unsatisfied with their dating lives. (Guess which category I fall into.)
The show is especially known for its generous use of Taylor Swift’s discography — a privilege few shows have ever been granted by our blonde overlord. I, for one, will never forget Conrad (Christopher Briney) crossing the dance floor to a heartbroken Belly (Lola Tung) in season 1, backed by The Way I Loved You (Taylor’s Version). Jenny Han later revealed that very song was on her writing playlist. Season 2 kept up the Swiftie momentum, opening with the delicious ache of folklore’s august. In the first three episodes of season 3, we’ve already heard You’re Losing Me, Daylight, and Red (Taylor’s Version). We are being fed.
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But it’s not just Swifties who are being served — at this point, the soundtrack is a pop girlie’s fever dream. I’m not complaining. It basically mirrors my Spotify algorithm. But I was caught off guard when Chappell Roan suddenly appeared in episode 1 of season 3… twice.
First, the cheerleader-core anthem HOT TO GO! soundtracks a sorority-fraternity sports day, where Jeremiah (Gavin Casalegno) and Belly are all smiles during a three-legged race, surrounded by the toned glory of Greek life. Later in the episode, Conrad has a vulnerable moment with his new friend Agnes (Zoé De Grand Maison) as he opens up about losing Belly to his brother, triggering a flashback to him awkwardly fifth-wheeling Jeremiah, Belly, Taylor, and Steven — all underscored by Good Luck, Babe!
One of these examples is harmless. The other? Tone-deaf. Good Luck, Babe! is a profoundly queer anthem, and its use in this context feels like a strange disconnect, or worse, an erasure of what Chappell Roan’s music means.
Roan has quickly become the breakout queer pop icon of the moment. Her lyrics are drenched in sapphic longing, gender play and a campy, sexually subversive energy that’s clearly for and by the LGBTQ+ community. So it’s jarring to hear her songs used in The Summer I Turned Pretty — a show deeply rooted in a very heteronormative Team Conrad vs. Team Jeremiah love triangle — to underscore scenes of straight teenage romance, with zero nod to the artist’s queer identity or the meaning behind her work.
Good Luck, Babe! in particular deserves better. The song reflects on a past relationship with a woman who ultimately chose a socially acceptable, heterosexual path over being true to herself. It’s about compulsory heterosexuality, which is a familiar ache for many queer people. As a bisexual woman, I cried in my car the first time I heard it. I cried about the shame I still carry about my sexuality. The contradiction of being “straight-passing” and yet feeling invisible in both queer and straight spaces. The way I never feel entirely myself in a heteronormative relationship, yet know that some queer people lose interest when they hear I'm bi. The way I still worry that people in my life quietly hope this is a “phase.”
“There is a part of myself that is just for me, and I don’t want that taken away from me.”
So no, that song should not be playing while Conrad watches Belly flirt with his brother. The lyric “When you wake up next to him in the middle of the night / With your head in your hands / You’re nothing more than his wife” may sound like it fits. But it doesn’t. It’s not about jealousy, it’s about erasure. About loss. About the heartbreak of being someone’s secret.
To be clear, I’m not saying queer artists shouldn’t be featured in straight media. That would be counterproductive — queer art should reach everyone. And to prove I’m not a total killjoy, I’ll let HOT TO GO! slide. That one is made for the dance floor, with YMCA-inspired choreography and a high-energy, club-night vibe. Use it for a frat sports day. Fine.
But “Good Luck, Babe!” is different. It’s sacred. It deserves context, intention, and care.
When LGBTQ+ culture is repackaged for mass consumption without context or care, it loses its meaning, and that loss is felt most by the people it was made for. Especially now, when transphobia is rampant, bisexuality is routinely disrespected, and queer artists like Roan feel like the last line of defence against the far right. The Summer I Turned Pretty’s use of her music isn’t just a misstep — it’s a missed opportunity for inclusion, or at the very least, cultural awareness. If the show is that desperate to feature Chappell’s work, it might consider including a queer love story beyond Season 2’s blink-and-you’ll-miss-it nonbinary character. And don’t you dare get your grubby paws on Casual.
Until then, go ahead and use Taylor. Use Olivia. Use Sabrina. But leave Good Luck, Babe! out of your straight-boy angst montage.
