To speak her name is to, regrettably, invoke a joke. Here’s a woman who leaves two lasting parallel legacies:
- What pop culture remembers about her.
- What adult men of a certain age fondly (and secretly) remember about her.
She was a woman who was both a tragic product of her time and, remarkably, ahead of her time as well. She didn’t quite fit in when she gained stardom in the 90s, found a niche career switch in the early 2000s, and met her untimely demise far too soon. Today, modern society remembers her for an eyebrow-raising marriage to an elderly oil tycoon. She was a “gold digger” before that term entered our lexicon. However, for millennial and Gen X men of a certain age, we might think of her in more amiable terms.
Who is this woman? Why, it’s Anna Nicole Smith!
Born as Vickie Lynn Hogan on November 28, 1967 in Houston, Texas, Anna should have been considered one of the ‘It Girls” of the 1990s, alongside Pamela Anderson, Cindy Crawford, Sharon Stone, and Carmen Electra. She certainly had the looks required to enter the “sex symbol” status, though she was never quite able to break into that coveted inner circle. For a variety of reasons, she was never invited to the “cool kid’s table,” despite possessing many of the same attributes of those who were allowed to sit there.
Very briefly, her career launched when she posed for Playboy magazine in May 1992. She would later go on to win Playmate of the Year in 1993. For you young kids reading this, posing nude for Playboy used to be one of the main gateways to earning the status of a model-celebrity. This was back before amateur models could go viral on Instagram or TikTok and sign with major brands as a result. For all his flaws as a human being, being in the good graces of Mr. Hugh Hefner did come with its perks.
Afterward, Anna replaced Claudia Schiffer (a superstar supermodel in her own right) in Guess Jeans’ black and white photography advertisement campaign. I remember distinctly seeing one of those photos on the web (back when dialup Internet was a thing) and thinking to myself, “Now THIS is what a woman is supposed to look like!” She made “mom jeans” a desirable thing before that term even existed.
Known for her uncanny resemblance to Jayne Mansfield, curvy figure, adorable Texas drawl, and fitting into the “dumb blonde” stereotype, Anna Nicole Smith defined an era. The centerfold model was a prized achievement for anyone who wished to break into the world of modeling, movies, television, or the “celebrity industrial complex” writ large. And for young men who grew up during an era when we hid certain magazines underneath our bed, we definitely knew who these women were. We “enjoyed” these ladies in our own personal way, often in the privacy of our bedroom after everyone in the house has fallen asleep. I don’t think I need to get more specific than that.
Looking back on Anna’s life and career, it’s easy to criticize her. It’s easy to point your finger at her and laugh or treat her as the butt of a joke. She never reached Pamela Anderson’s level of superstardom, but she probably was never going to. Her major Hollywood movie role was appearing in “Naked Gun 33+1⁄3: The Final Insult,” where she basically played eye candy. She was not a good actor (as evidenced by the Razzie Award she earned for “Worst New Star”). To be fair, neither is Pamela Anderson – who, ironically, also appeared in a “Naked Gun” movie – but at least Pam has enough charm and spunk to make her watchable on the silver screen. Anna, unfortunately, did not have the charisma necessary to make a career in Hollywood sustainable.
So fine. Anna’s greatest strength was her looks. She couldn’t act, sing, dance, or produce any art that people would want to open their wallets to buy. She was a blonde bombshell, nothing more, nothing less. Perhaps this is part of the reason why she wasn’t respected in her day. And, uh, for the other reason that should be mentioned.
Her controversial marriage to J. Howard Marshall.
Welp, there’s no use beating around the bush. Without getting into too much detail, Anna infamously married petroleum tycoon J. Howard Marshall on June 27, 1994. Marshall was 89 years old and Anna was…<checks notes> only 26. The mind-boggling 63-year age gap was jarring back then, even before our culture’s obsession with “age gap discourse” became a thing. It’s still bizarre to think about.
Now, did she marry him for love…or money? I certainly don’t want to speculate on the inner thoughts of someone I don’t know, but a reasonable person acting in good faith can definitely come to a particular conclusion. I won’t pass down any judgement on her, especially since she’s no longer around to defend herself. Let the dead rest in peace, I say. Here’s what I will put out there: If you were a young woman who found an easy and sure-fire way to gain nearly instantaneous generational fortune, would you pass up this opportunity?
Go ahead and tell yourself that you wouldn’t. But I’m humble enough to admit that if I were placed in her shoes, I’m not sure that I would have made a different choice. Do you have more integrity? Great. That’s fantastic. Good for you. Keep telling yourself that.
Anna’s controversial marriage and the legal fallout from it (culminating in not one but two different Supreme Court cases) for sure contributed to the lack of respect this woman has received from the public at large. It’s partially why very few people can utter her name without making a snarky comment or cracking a condescending smirk. Anna isn’t looked fondly upon like Marilyn Monroe, Pamela Anderson, or Farrah Fawcett. She had the physical looks to go toe-to-toe with these women, though not the cultural gravitas. As someone who actually watched two of her direct-to-video movies (1994’s “To the Limit” and 1996’s “Skyscraper,” respectively), I can say with 100% honesty that acting was not her specialty. She was a model after all; someone whose literal job was to stand around and look pretty. She did exactly that at an elite level, so props to her for that.
Anna was the stereotypical “dumb blonde” and truly leaned into that persona. She knew she had limitations as a celebrity (as did her agent, no doubt), so her “shelf life” would be limited. Now, did I watch in my parent’s basement at 2:00 in the morning “The Anna Nicole Show,” a reality TV show that aired from 2002 to 2004? Uh, perhaps. I saw a handful of episodes. I was never big into reality television, so I didn’t really have a whole lot of genuine interest in watching her show. But any Anna-related content that I could get was good enough for me. I had a major celebrity crush on her during my junior high school days. She, Pamela, Rena Mero (WWE’s Sable), Famke Janssen, and Halle Berry (who’s still one hot mama) had major strangleholds over me during my teen years. I can admit that I frequently jerked off to Anna in the privacy of my bedroom as an awkward teen. I distinctly remember looking at her Playboy photos on my mom’s old computer (which still had dialup Internet) and fantasizing about being able to bury my face in her enormous boobs. My imagination was quite limited in those days.
There was something about her that made me briefly obsessed with her. I’m pretty sure it was her curvaceous figure, which was in stark contrast to the 90’s to early 2000’s trend of supermodels being unhealthily skinny. The “skinny is beautiful” craze led to a major backlash, namely when conditions like anorexia and bulimia became household words. Before then, Anna’s “plus sized” body was also considered somewhat of a joke. She was “fat” in a way that set her apart from her modeling peers. Before the Body Positivity movement started, it was commonplace to look at Anna – despite her incredible natural beauty – and question whether or not she deserved her status as a celebrity model. By all accounts, she deserved it. However, the fact that she didn’t win everybody over is telling unto itself.
Looking back on it, my obsession with Anna probably led to my current obsession with female bodybuilders. Anna was no bodybuilder, of course. But like I just said, her body felt like a defiant statement against the current zeitgeist. She was a pretty blonde lady who liked to eat, married an old rich man, and lived a luxurious life that she only dreamt about as a little girl. Given how quickly she became a star, it’s no mystery why she made the choices that she made. She had opportunities presented before her that a regular person could only imagine in their wildest dreams. Do any of us really know how we would have reacted? Would we have truly made different choices than her? Who knows.
My love of Anna was brief. I was obsessed with her for probably a 2-3 year period. As I became an older teen, I moved on from her. Then, once I became an adult, I discovered the world of female bodybuilders. And the rest, as they say, is history. Anna was a distant memory of a time when I went through puberty and discovered beautiful women for the first time. Anna was one of my earliest celebrity crushes, but not my strongest. My present-day adoration of Cindy Landolt far surpasses how obsessed I was with any other famous lady. But I don’t want her to fade out of my memory. She still holds a special place in my heart, even all these years later. “Never forget your roots,” as they say.
You know what kind of person Anna was? Picture this hypothetical rom-com:
A young man who grew up in a small town in Texas graduates from college and gets a high-paying job at a law firm (or financial firm) in New York City. There, he parties with ridiculously hot “city gals” who look like Ana de Armas and Megan Fox in their primes. He gets drunk, parties at the most popular nightclubs, and even gets lucky enough to take home one or two of these gals for a nightcap.
Then, out of nowhere, there’s a tragedy back home. Grandma and grandpa are coming down on hard times and they’re forced to sell their farmhouse. Our protagonist flies home in an effort to secure emergency funding so that his grandparents can keep their beloved home. Perhaps his connections with Wall Street financiers could help. Dejected and feeling lonely, he goes to a local dive bar. It’s a popular place that he’s known about for years, but he was never old enough to go inside. Once in, he guzzles down a couple of beers and plays darts with a few “good old boys” who treat this bar like it’s their second home.
Suddenly, something catches his eye. Across the room, playing pool with her buddies, is a busty blonde hometown girl that he vaguely remembers from high school. Maybe she’s lost a little bit of weight since then. Or maybe the opposite: She’s “filled out” quite nicely. Regardless, he feels compelled to approach her. He does. He’s struck by her natural beauty, curvy figure, and rural small-town charm. He asks her for her name. She kindly replies, “Lizzy.”
Now, our protagonist is caught in a major dilemma: Does he return to the “Big City” and continue living the life of urban luxury? Or does he “come home” and settle down with Lizzy, who works at the local diner as a part-time waitress? And will grandma and grandpa be able to keep their farmhouse from falling into the hands of those darn greedy land developers? Oh, what wacky hijinks will ensue!
Ah ha.
In this hypothetical rom-com, you could easily imagine Anna playing the romantic lead. I’m not sure which 90s-era Hollywood actor would play the male co-star, but whatever. In an alternative universe, Anna’s niche would be appearing in made-for-cable-TV romance movies in the 90s and early 2000s, milking that success by appearing in reality shows during the 2010s, and spending the 2020s doing “special guest appearances” on various podcasts or YouTube channels. Maybe having a bit role in a streaming show here and there. But after her tragic death on February 8, 2007, none of this would ever come to pass. Her fate was sealed. So it goes.
So what’s the takeaway here? Well, I felt compelled to pay tribute to one of my childhood celebrity crushes. I also felt obligated to provide her with the respect she deserved and (oftentimes) did not receive when she was alive. I cannot defend every choice she made. I obviously did not know her. I don’t know anyone who knew her. Like any famous person, I only knew her from a distance. Perhaps she made regrettable life choices. Maybe she was a monster behind the scenes. It’s entirely possible she mistreated certain people. Who knows? I don’t feel the need to dig through every rumor about her. Let the dead be.
What I can say is this: Anna Nicole Smith was a woman who was a product of her time. She was blessed with immense beauty, which handed her opportunities that aren’t normally presented to people without it. She was given choices that are unimaginable to normal folks. She made those choices, whether you agreed with them or not. She lived with those choices, until she no longer had to. And that was that. It is what it is. Anna lived and died as an example of what the “American Dream” can be. She started with nothing, exploited her looks for personal gain, married rich, tasted the celebrity life for a brief time, milked her fame for as long as possible, and died of an accidental drug overdose. For the 39 years she walked on this Earth, she experienced things most of us could not comprehend.
Was she happy? I’m sure she was for part of it. I’m also certain she was unhappy for a lot of her life. Is it fair to judge her for her actions? Sure, why not. But like I said before, can you say with any degree of certainty that you wouldn’t have done the same?
Another thing I know is that Anna was a gift. Her beautiful face and beautiful body brought joy to many people, myself included. She wasn’t a gift that we deserved, but the gift that we got. As a teenage boy, she opened my eyes to a whole new world. I finally understood why adult men were obsessed with beautiful women. Why did men fight and die in wars over Helen of Troy? Discovering Anna Nicole Smith as an impressionable teen taught me why.
She was the type of woman that drove men mad. We may not have wanted to admit it, but it was true. Anna was a special lady.
May she rest in peace.
The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi 