Everyone gets hung up on the ethics of Clueless—the ex-stepbrother romance, the fact that it’s a Jane Austen adaptation (which, sidebar: me and Jane still have beef from A-Level Lit and my countless attempts to get into Pride and Prejudice since the age of 8. Jane, it’s not me, it’s you. Your women always feel like watered-down vessels for men’s growth—but I’ll save that for another day.)
Yes, Cher Horowitz (Alicia Silverstone) ends up with Josh (Paul Rudd), her college-aged ex-stepbrother, and yes, it’s… a lot. But the movie’s called Clueless, not Flawless. And if you can see past the mess, there’s something solid underneath — a blueprint, even — for figuring yourself (and the people around you) out.
Here’s a brief summary…
Clueless is a teen comedy set in 1990s Beverly Hills, following the life of Cher Horowitz, a stylish, well-meaning, and somewhat naive high schooler navigating friendship, romance, and self-discovery. Cher is the queen bee of her social scene, known for her impeccable fashion sense and elaborate matchmaking schemes. When she takes new student Tai Frasier under her wing, Cher’s world begins to shift, forcing her to confront her own assumptions about love, identity, and what it really means to be kind.
The film’s connection to 90s pop culture is immediately evident in its vibrant aesthetic—soundtrack staples like Jill Sobule and Coolio, designer labels, and Valley Girl slang create a world that’s as satirical as it is sincere. But beyond its glossy exterior, Clueless captures the spirit of the decade’s youth culture with unexpected heart. It moves with the energy of a pop song—bright, fast-paced, and full of charm—yet beneath the surface, there’s a clever commentary on privilege, growth, and learning to think beyond yourself.
I Totally Paused!!
Cher, behind the wheel of her white Jeep, is peak teenage chaos. No license. No sense of direction (except to the mall). Just vibes. When Dionne (Stacey Dash) scolds her for rolling through a stop sign, Cher cheerfully replies: “I totally paused!”
At 19, my provisional license solely functions as ID on a night out, so Cher at 15 is taking more initiative than me. Despite being a pedestrian Cher and I both speed through things we should probably slow down for. Which brings me to my blog, Still Time, and the uncomfortable truth that even when the signs to stop are right in front of us, we rarely take them seriously.
Reinvention isn’t always about forward motion. Sometimes it’s about stillness — the kind that feels like failure because it’s not dramatic or romanticised. But there’s something powerful about pausing, even when it’s awkward, even when you’re not doing it “properly.” Maybe especially then.
The Monet Moment
When Tai (the late Brittany Murphy) asks Cher whether Amber is pretty, Cher responds with what might be one of the most cutting—and oddly profound—lines in the film. It’s subtle shade to the French artist (Claude Monet) and a whole overcast to Amber (her nemesis), but there’s something bigger lurking under the insult.
She’s a full-on Monet. It’s like a painting, see? From far away, it’s okay. But up close, it’s a big old mess.
Cher Horowitz
The Monet Moment is Clueless in a nutshell: hilarious, biting, and weirdly observant. Cher doesn’t always realise the weight of what she’s saying—but that’s the thing about being a teenager. You say things that feel flippant but end up sticking with you. That line about looking fine from far away but being a mess up close? That’s everyone at 16. Honestly, that’s still me now.
It speaks to how reinvention isn’t always seamless. From a distance, you might look put together. But up close, it’s clear you’re just patching things up with duct tape and filling the silence with music. And yet, even in the mess, there’s art—beauty, even. Maybe that’s what Cher never realised: even a Monet is still a masterpiece.
Rollin’ with the Homies
The other thing Clueless gets so right is friendship—messy, honest, annoying friendship. Dionne, Tai, even Murray and Josh are all part of Cher’s journey, not just accessories to it. There’s something beautiful about being witnessed while you change. Having someone like Tai, who eventually challenges Cher. Or Josh, who quietly expects more from her. Or Dionne, who’s learning just as much, just as fast.
They’re not sidekicks — they’re mirrors. And sometimes, reinvention isn’t even your own idea. Sometimes it starts when someone else says, “Hey, have you noticed…?”It’s kind of wild how much is packed into Clueless in just 97 minutes: a lot of essential subplots with so many perfectly placed characters. The nonstop-but-effortless pacing means there’s always something interesting happening on screen: someone developing, a moment unfolding. To me, Clueless has zero wasted scenes and is a masterclass in pure storytelling. Very much like my adolescence: chaotic, crowded, emotionally overbooked — and still painfully, yet perfectly timed.
In that sense, Clueless becomes less about one girl changing, and more about a small community where everyone is stumbling toward selfhood together.
“I Was Just Totally Clueless”
Here’s the real gem of Clueless: Cher doesn’t do a full 180. She doesn’t reject her identity, burn her closet, or give up matchmaking. She just learns to recalibrate. She keeps being herself — bold, caring, fashion-obsessed — but she starts listening. She starts noticing. She starts pausing. That’s the quiet brilliance of the movie: reinvention not as transformation, but as iteration. Cher’s not pretending to be someone else. She’s trying to become the version of herself that fits. The version that’s not all aesthetics and performance, but intention and care.
Reinvention doesn’t always come with a soundtrack or a five-year plan. Sometimes it looks like a yellow plaid skirt, a mess of good intentions, and a girl figuring it out in real time. Trying to catch up with the person she already is.
I know Clueless isn’t “deep.” It’s a 90s teen comedy with questionable romances and zero commentary on class, race, or gender. I’m not holding it up as feminist canon. But some media sticks not because it’s flawless, but because it meets you at the right time. It gives you language you didn’t have yet. It reflects you back to yourself — not the polished version, but the awkward, unsure, still-learning version.
That’s what Cher Horowitz taught me about reinvention. That you don’t have to disappear to grow. You don’t have to have it all figured out. You just have to start noticing. Try again. Listen better. And maybe, pause.
That’s all from me. I’m Audi!!