Muses Are Goddesses—But They’re Also So Much More

There’s a scene in the television adaptation of Daisy Jones & The Six that lives rent-free in my mind. Riley Keough’s Daisy—a radiant blur of charisma, chaos, and perfectly worn-in denim—is in a restaurant with a screenwriter. After she makes a characteristically witty quip (on an admittedly dark topic), he replies, “That’s funny. I’m going to use that in a script one day.” 

She snaps back: “What makes you think that I’m not going to use that in something one day?” He tells her she should be flattered. “You could be, like, my muse or something.” Without missing a beat, she gets up and walks out. He chases her down, confused, asking what he said to elicit such a response. 

“You said I’m your f—g muse, like I’m just inspiration for your next great idea,” she retorts. 

“What’s wrong with that?” he asks (shockingly earnestly, I might add). 

“Look, I’m not interested in being anybody’s muse. Okay, Gary? Not yours, not anybody’s,” she screams. “I’m the somebody!” Daisy does, of course, become somebody: A rockstar as celebrated—if not more celebrated—for her lyricism as for her perfect bangs. And that moment was no doubt added to her memory bank, filed away under “things that are absolutely going to motivate me to become a mega-successful artist.” 

But to me, it also serves as a crucial reminder: Muses inspire us, yes, but they don’t just drop out of the sky fully formed, plopped directly in front of a (usually male) artistic genius to help them craft their magnum opus. They are, themselves, founts of creativity. 

Given our use of the word “muse” as a source of inspiration, it’s perhaps easy to forget that the Greek muses, from whom we get the term, possessed the gifts they bestowed on others. It was their talents that inspired creativity in humans. 

And much like the funny and joyous Thalia (muse of comedy and idyllic poetry) and Terpsichore, the muse of dance, choral song, and lyric poetry, often depicted playing the lyre, modern muses inspire others with their gifts, not just as their gift. Consider Chloë Sevigny. She has an uncanny ability to wear what everyone will be wearing approximately six months before they actually do, and her unique style has inspired magazine editors, alternative rockstars, and filmmakers alike: In her breakout role, she played a character drawn largely on herself. 

But it isn’t just the editorials and characters that Sevigny inspires that are worth celebrating. As stylist Daisy von Furth told The New Yorker nearly 30 years ago, “She’s ahead of the other girls because she’s read all the history of fashion and she can go into a thrift shop and find the old Yves Saint Laurent dress when all the other girls are going, ‘Hey, wow, look at this wacky T-shirt.’” Sevigny is effortlessly cool, yes, but her sense of style is as much taste as it is craftsmanship and commitment—not unlike the rockstars and screenwriters she inspires. They might not have found the perfect chord if she hadn’t found that perfect oversize sweater. 

Of course, many muses have gone on to establish careers that transcend their early “[insert name here]’s muse” labels and demonstrate their creative power—sometimes even eclipsing the men they inspired. Ike Turner might have come up with the Tina Turner name and image (a move that evoked another Greek myth, Pygmalion), but she would go on to become the Queen of Rock and Roll through her own hard work and incomparable stage presence. By the time Cher quipped, “I am a rich man” in a 1996 television interview, she had sold millions of albums, embarked on multiple world tours, and even had an Oscar on her mantel. Few watching that interview—and almost no one reading this now—would think of her as the teenage muse who inspired her much older husband to pen, “I Got You Babe,” and countless fellow teens to flatiron their hair and buy a pair of bell-bottoms.

While the impact of models like Pattie Boyd (Hall of Fame rock-and-roll muse) and socialites like Zelda Fitzgerald is by no means lessened because they didn’t release their own albums or bestsellers, today’s muses have more opportunities to share their gifts with the world, and not just with the people they inspire. Julia Fox might be the prime example. She parlayed a breakout role in the film Uncut Gems into social media stardom and, eventually, a book deal. While it can be difficult to share in all the painful experiences Fox recounts in Down the Drain, her gift for storytelling shines through; It’s hardly surprising her skills for painting vivid pictures of life on the margins would inspire a screenwriter like Josh Safdie. 

It’s crucial that we see muses for who they are—all of who they are—and understand them as multifaceted people. For much of history, women have been reduced to our relationships with men, as daughters; wives; and yes, sometimes muses. And while we can be all those things—we can also be seen as the artists, writers, performers (and scientists, teachers, leaders…) we are. In recognizing the labor and life experiences that came together to create the women in front of us, we recognize that they aren’t goddesses, but people. And that’s even more inspiring.