Social Semiotics

Vol. 22, No. 3, June 2012, 311
331

RESEARCH ARTICLE
Smooth bodywork: the role of texture in images of cars and
women on consumer magazine covers
Mehita Iqani*

Department of Media, Studies, University of the Witwatersrand, Johannesburg, South Africa

(Received 14 July 2010; final version received 17 March 2011)

This article examines the role of texture, specifically smoothness, in commercial

communication, specifically magazine cover imagery. It takes as its empirical
focus images of women and cars on the covers of magazines aimed at the male
market in order to argue that smoothness is an important semiotic resource,
embedded in stereotypical and heteronormative conceptions of gender. This
argument is framed and introduced through a review of the connotations held by
various smooth surfaces in western culture, and a discussion of questions of affect
and ideology that underlie those connotations. Analysing two examples of each
magazine genre, the paper then illustrates how smoothness is a semiotic resource
in which consumption-oriented superficiality interfaces with ideologically gen-
dered images of women and cars on magazine covers. It concludes by raising
questions for the future study of smoothness in the media.
Keywords: smoothness; texture; magazine covers; women; cars; consumption;
gender; multimodal

Introduction
Texture1 is a feature of everyday life that may often go unnoticed; this paper seeks to
pay attention to it by questioning the role texture plays in communication. It does so
by examining smoothness in one genre of multimodal text, the magazine cover. This
focus is narrowed even further by considering the role that smoothness plays in
images of women and cars (two commonly featured ‘‘cover models’’) on magazines
that target a primarily male readership. The covers from four men’s magazines are
selected as examples for analysis: Arena (January 2008), Autocar (September 2007),
FHM (October 2007) and Topgear (November 2007)2. The presence of smooth
textures in those texts, and the set of connotations linked therewith, are mapped out
in order to make the argument that, in images of ‘‘cover girls’’ and luxury cars,
smoothness plays an important ideological role and contributes to the project of
gender stereotyping so well entrenched in mass media. In order to lay a foundation
for this analysis and argument, a detailed consideration of smoothness as a semiotic
resource is provided through a selective review of scholarship that makes arguments
about the connotations of texture. This in turn is linked to questions of the sensory
affect produced by smoothness, as well as ideological positions that might underlie
the connotations associated with it.

*Email: mehita.iqani@wits.ac.za
ISSN 1035-0330 print/1470-1219 online
# 2012 Taylor & Francis
http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/10350330.2012.665261
http://www.tandfonline.com
312 M. Iqani

Smoothness as a semiotic resource

Underlying the question about the role of texture in communication is an even
more preliminary consideration as to whether it plays a role at all. In order to
argue that it does, it is worth briefly considering the variety of materials with
different textures that surround us in our everyday lives. The environment in
which I typed this paragraph (a coffee shop in my neighbourhood) features many
textured materials. The porcelain of my coffee cup, the stainless steel of my
teaspoon, the glass of the window, the glossy paint of the doorframe, the polished
wood veneer of the table, the shiny surfaces of the cars visible through the
window, and the reflective paper of the magazine being read by a man at another
table are all smooth. The tarmac of the road surface and the concrete of the
sidewalk, the brickwork of the outer wall of the building opposite, the dull, matte
paper of the newspaper set out for customers, the scratchy fibres of a wool coat on
the back of a chair are less so. From a functional perspective, each texture plays a
role (roads should not be slippery, for example, and coffee cups should not be
spongy and absorbent). From a semiotic perspective, each of these items
the
coffee cup, the coat, even the streetscape
can be considered a text embodying
meaning in its own right. Each text has been constructed from materials
considered by a certain culture useful for making meaning, such as clay, wood,
or stone (Kress 2010, 82). Arguably, such materials are largely defined by their
textures; that is, the tactile qualities of their surfaces. Texture certainly plays a role
in the design choices that might make a producer of a text or object choose one
material over another, thus drawing ‘‘unsemioticized materiality into semiosis’’
(Kress and Van Leeuwen 2001, 217).

The connotations of smooth (and rough) textures

A complete typology listing the many meanings that various textures might connote
does not yet exist, but some clues as to texture’s semiotic functions can be gleaned
from a variety of arguments that stretch from classical aesthetics to contemporary
social-semiotic analyses. In order to remain true to the focus of this paper, the review
provided here is selective and focuses on the connotative associations identified for
smoothness as well as its opposite, roughness, in order to provide a counterpoint.
What follows is not aimed at suggesting that there is a simple binary opposition
between smoothness and roughness. In lived reality there is a complex continuum of
many types of smooth and rough textures existing in many configurations.
Nevertheless, some broad associations with smoothness and roughness respectively
can be traced. These are summarised in Table 1 and follow Barthes’ classic two-step
system of analysis (Abousnnouga and Machin 2010, 138), which first describes what
is seen (denotation) and second considers what ideas and values are communicated
by that (connotation).
An interesting starting point is an argument made by Edmund Burke in his text
The Sublime and the Beautiful (first published in 1756), in which he argues that a key
characteristic of beautiful objects is smooth texture:

Smoothness is a quality so essential to beauty, that I do not now recollect anything

beautiful that is not smooth. In trees and flowers, smooth leaves are beautiful; smooth
slopes of earth in gardens; smooth streams in the landscape; smooth coats of birds and
 Social Semiotics 313

Table 1. A preliminary typology of the connotations of smooth and rough textures.

Smooth Rough

Landscapes Cultivated, tamed, manicured, mapped Rugged, wild, rural, jagged,

uncharted
Connotes safety, civilisation, intervention Connotes danger, uncontrollable,
of Culture, unthreatening, controlled power of Nature
Animals Tamed, groomed, trained, productive Shaggy, unkempt pelts, not
domesticable
Connotes domesticity, docility, safety Connotes wildness, danger, threat
Buildings glass, steel, concrete, skyscrapers Brick, stone, untreated timber
Connotes modernity, technological Connotes primitiveness, the pastoral
advancement, urbanity, capitalism and rural
Objects Polished, seams not visible, flawless, Flaws present, seams visible, coarse,
shiny, metallic, reflective, enamelled uneven, dull, craggy
Connotes modernity, technological Connotes the handmade, simple,
advancement, commodities, mass unfinished, imperfect, rural, crude,
production, manufacture down-to-earth
Paper Glossy Matte
Connotes luxury, leisure, image-heavy Connotes the handmade, factual, news,
content text-heavy content, authenticity
Fabric Soft, silky, flowing or tight, shiny, Coarse weave, thicker, distressed
reflective, glossy denim, hessian
Connotes luxury, divinity, privilege, or Connotes manual labour, casual wear,
sexiness, fetishisation authenticity, individuality
Visual Art Shiny, glossy, reflective, silky surfaces Irregular, craggy, bumpy, uneven,
rutted surfaces
Connotes hyperreality, commodity culture, Connotes earthiness, weather-beaten,
sexiness, luxury, consumerism age, suffering
Skin Blemish-free, unwounded, unscarred, Wrinkled, weather-beaten, blemished,
pale wounded, diseased, scarred
Connotes youth, femininity, health, class Connotes old age, disease, violation,
privilege, protection oppression, suffering

beasts in animal beauties; in fine women, smooth skins; and in several sorts of
ornamental furniture, smooth and polished surfaces. A very considerable part of the
effect of beauty is owing to this quality; indeed the most considerable. For take any
beautiful object and give it a broken and rugged surface, and however well-formed it
may be in other respects, it pleases no longer. (Burke 1834, 55)

Burke’s definition of ‘‘beauty’’ is rooted in a romanticism that points toward

‘‘humility, reverence, a sense of order and of moral values, and an emphasis on the
development of sound judgment in the context of civilized life’’ (Byrne 2006, 33). He
claims that beauty is an objective fact rather than a subjective experience. Its
categories can be listed, and these include a refined texture. Domesticated animals,
such as neatly groomed horses, are more beautiful than wild animals with their
shaggy, unkempt pelts. Well-tended, landscaped gardens are beautiful whilst
uncultivated land is less so, unless it features tame elements such as a soft stream
or well-shaped trees. Furniture is considered beautiful if it is sanded smooth and
polished to a sheen, rather than left rugged and uneven. Beautiful women are
314 M. Iqani

unencumbered by wrinkled, rough or blemished skin (the implication is that smooth

skin is achieved partly by grooming and pampering). Through this categorisation,
Burke links his definition of beauty in a very explicit way to the qualities of surface
materiality. Smoothness is thus not only a characteristic of beautiful objects but also
a reflection of a civilisation’s ability to produce such objects. Burke’s argument may
be at the root of strong connotations of civilisation or culture, in opposition to
nature, that smoothness carries with it.
Traces of this perspective can be noticed in contemporary scholars’ arguments
about the connotations of either nature or culture in texture: ‘‘Cups can be smooth,
made of delicate china, suggesting, perhaps, an overall quality of elegance and
refinement; or they can be sturdy and solid and made of brick-red terracotta,
suggesting, perhaps, an overall quality of down-to-earth simplicity’’ (Kress and Van
Leeuwen 2006, 249). It is partly the smoothness of the surface of the ceramic coffee
cup that makes it seem ‘‘refined’’, whereas the more roughly textured earthenware
cup connotes ‘‘simplicity’’ and earthy, rural charm.
A similar argument is evident in contrasts made between the ‘‘roughness’’ of
nature and the ‘‘smoothness’’ of architecture (Hill 2010, 329). In natural environ-
ments, smooth textures connote safeness (Wagner 2008, 482), probably due to their
resemblance to cultivated, man-made spaces. Buildings are constructed from
materials like glass, steel and concrete, which are fundamentally different to the
rugged, unrestrained forms that appear in natural landscapes, such as rock
formations and caves
although buildings can also be constructed from more
‘‘rustic’’ materials like wood, brickwork or thatch-roofing, which carry with them
connotations of the rural and pastoral. In contrast, consider a contemporary
skyscraper, such as Norman Foster’s ‘‘Gherkin’’ in the city of London. The smooth
lines of its ovoid shape are accentuated by the reflective surfaces of blue glass and
silver steel from which it is constructed.
Connotations of modernity are also apparent in other products of industrial mass
production, predicated on technological advances that allow new materials to be
invented and used in innovative ways. Plastic is a man-made substance, which
embodies a postmodern elasticity as it can produced to take an unlimited number of
forms and colours and can imitate a wide variety of natural textures (Kress and Van
Leeuwen 2001, 80). But plastic can also create extremely smooth and glossy textures
that do not exist in nature at all, such as the shiny finish of Lego bricks and Barbie
dolls. As modernity emerged, deepened and extended, shininess (a catch-all term for
polish, reflectivity, veneer, varnish or gloss) came to clearly connote that an object or
material holds a ‘‘manufactured characteristic’’ (Schroeder 2002, 143). The many
appliances and commodities that fill the modern home are partly recognisable by a
shiny aesthetic: the badge of the mass-produced commodity. Imagine a refrigerator
without a smooth white enamel casing, a blender without smooth stainless steel
knobs, or a Model T Ford without a polished, black exterior. In his discussion of the
form and shape of a Citroën car in an advert of the time, Barthes suggests that
smoothness evokes flawlessness in its suggestions of continuity and seamlessness. He
argues that material smoothness is an attribute of perfection, ‘‘because its opposite
reveals a technical and typically human operation of assembling: Christ’s robe was
seamless, just as the airships of science-fiction are made of unbroken metal’’ (Barthes
1973, 88). Shiny materials carry with them connotations of high modernity and
advanced technological processes that ‘‘defy’’ nature. This is partly why in many
 Social Semiotics 315

science-fiction narratives, ‘‘space-ships’’ and futuristic machines are often repre-

sented as constructed from extremely shiny, seamless metallic surfaces.
Another manufactured material is paper, which like plastic (although not quite to
the same extent) can take on a variety of textures. The quality of texture is central to
the processes of paper manufacture. Technical errors in the production process can
lead to paper being compromised by ‘‘blotches’’, ‘‘wrinkles’’, ‘‘mottling’’, ‘‘streak-
ing’’, ‘‘blackening’’ and other flaws (Eves 1988). In the finished product, paper
texture plays a functional role: very smooth, glossy paper is considered by printers to
be most effective in carrying visual content as the glossy coating accentuates colour
and detail, while dull, matte paper is better at hosting text-heavy content (Holmes
2000). Paper texture also carries certain connotations. Smooth, shiny paper creates a
‘‘message of gloss’’ and luxury, which is ‘‘a crucial element of the magazine’s
seductive power’’ (Kress and Van Leeuwen 2001, 122). Glossy paper can also
connote superficiality and artifice. On the other hand, rougher, matte paper suggests
a hand-made aesthetic, or a more authentic, functional, and ‘‘down-to-earth’’ ethic.
In clothing, very smooth fabrics such as silk and satin are immediately associated
with luxury and femininity. Smooth, flowing fabrics can also suggest divinity and
heavenliness, as illustrated, for example, by early Christian imagery. In this genre,
angels, saints and other holy individuals are often represented wearing robes of soft,
luxuriously flowing fabric (Jensen 2000). Other smooth, shiny materials such as
patent leather, rubber and PVC, on the other hand, connote sexual fetishism. This is
due to their association with the texture of human skin as well as the tight, body-
hugging fit of garments made from those materials (Schroeder 2002, 142
143). On
the other hand, denim is a good example of the connotative power of rough fabrics.
Initially a symbol of manual labour, denim was adopted by a variety of youth
subcultures, eventually becoming universalised in the western world as a ubiquitous
casual wear. Denim’s coarse texture is often accentuated by ‘‘distressing’’ techniques
that further ‘‘roughen’’, ‘‘authenticate’’ and individualise a pair of jeans (Miller and
Woodward 2007).
In visual art, these many connotations associated with glossy smoothness and
jagged roughness are intentionally exploited in sophisticated ways. The subject of
texture in visual art is too large to explore in depth here, but a couple of examples serve
to highlight the powerful role that it can play. Consider the hyperreal visual styles of
Jeff Koons and Marilyn Minter, for example. Both artists utilise extremely smooth
textures and glossy materials in order to comment on the excesses of commodity
culture and eroticised consumption and to create connotations of sexualised luxury. In
contrast, as Kress and Van Leeuwen (2006, 249) point out, the ‘‘rough, black, craggy
surface’’ of sculptures by Alberto Giacometti suggest that his figures are ‘‘weather-
beaten, affected by exposure to . . . the elements, suffering, ageing’’. The role of texture
in communicating ideals can be complex. In a study examining the semiotics of war
monuments, Abousnnouga and Machin (2010) argue that smooth lines and textures
represent metaphorical certainty and comprehensibility while rough, blurred textures
represent complexity, uncertainty and incomprehensibility. An example of the former
is a patriotic World War I monument; of the latter, a monument honouring the victims
of a concentration camp.
The textures of human skin can carry with them strong symbols of status. In a
detailed and troubling account of the ways in which colonial domination was literally
played out on the skins of colonial subjects (through the repressions of traditional
316 M. Iqani

corporeal practices such as ritual scarification, and the brutal inscription of different
kinds of scars through a variety of horrific practices), Cole and Haebich (2007, 302)
highlight how smooth, unmarked skin was an indicator of ‘‘civilisation’’. Uncom-
promised skin was idealised by European cultures as ‘‘an essential marker of
Christianity, civilised society, and human beauty’’ and contrasted with, as the Old
Testament outlines, the painted or pierced skin of ‘‘pagans’’, the branded skin of
‘‘sinners’’, and the diseased and disfigured skin of ‘‘outcasts’’ such as lepers.
Ironically, colonisers labelled indigenous practices of skin-modification as ‘‘savage’’
whilst inflicting numerous brutalities such as flogging, punitive tattooing and
possessive branding on the skin of the same colonial subjects, thereby re-inscribing
it with new scars. The symbolic value of smooth skin from this historical perspective
becomes clearer. Not only did it represent ‘‘civilisation’’, but it also connoted a
position of safety. Smooth skin was not wounded, flogged and damaged, forcibly
tattooed, whipped and scarred. This is because it occupied a safe and privileged
social position during colonial times. White, middle-class skin was inviolable and
remained smooth; the skins of others (white lower classes and prisoners, indigenous
colonial subjects) were violated and became rough and scarred. The connotations of
inviolability, privilege, safety and ‘‘civilisation’’ associated with smooth skin arguably
persist today.
To sum up, Table 1 outlines a preliminary (and certainly incomplete) typology of
the connotations of smooth and rough textures in the material forms discussed here.
With this preliminary typology of some of the connotations of smoothness and
roughness sketched out, the argument that texture is a semiotic resource becomes
more compelling. A great deal more work needs to be done in order to extend this
typology, and properly complicate it. For now, it provides some insight into the many
ways in which texture can contribute to the hierarchies of meaning and value
associated with the materials that surround us in everyday life, and can operate as an
analytical framework for a detailed consideration of the role of smooth textures in
the genre of images put forward as a case study in this paper. Before this, however, it
is necessary to discuss the roles that smoothness might play in terms of sensory
affect, hyperreal modality and ideology.

The senses, hyperreal modality and ideology

‘‘Smooth’’ is often used as an adjective to describe social scenarios in which problems
do not arise and interaction between all parties is harmonious. In material surfaces,
smoothness is an adjective that describes a certain experience of touch. A smooth
surface is uninterrupted by fissures, bumps, cracks or textures that might impede the
journey of fingertips across it. Texture is tactile, but it also operates on the visual
level. An image of smoothness holds sensory promise. By looking at a certain surface
we can imagine how it will probably feel to touch it, and the description of a surface
by its phenomenological qualities becomes a simultaneously visual and tactile
experience. Because smoothness is intimately connected with sensory experience, its
semiotic role might be best described as ‘‘ideational’’: representing aspects of the
world as experienced by humans (Halliday 1985, 53).
Sensory experiences such as seeing the colour red, feeling water splashing or
touching a smooth surface have been theorised as ‘‘qualia’’, a term first used by
C.S. Peirce in 1867 to describe the pre-linguistic elements of phenomenological
 Social Semiotics 317

experience (Livingston 2004, 6). Qualia are related to the notion of ‘‘affect’’, which
refers to an experience that takes place equally, or simultaneously, in the physical
senses and in the mind (Hardt 2007). Smoothness is a building block of sensory
experience; it has the ability to produce affect. Smoothness is experienced not only in
visual and tactile terms, but also mentally and emotionally
as is evident from the
many connotations associated with it already described. Without proposing an
analysis of qualia based on linguistic principles (a proposition that requires deeper
theoretical exploration than this paper allows), it is the affective register of
smoothness that underlines its potential for semiotic functioning.
Kress and Van Leeuwen (2001, 2006) write about ‘‘abstract’’, ‘‘naturalistic’’ and
‘‘sensory’’ modality markers, which can combine in complex ways in visual
communication. In the accounts they provide of the latter two forms of modality,
texture is highlighted. Naturalistic modality, Kress and Van Leewen (2006, 171)
argue, amplifies texture in an image in order to create a greater sense of naturalism;
that is, the more the representation corresponds with what it signifies. Amplified
texture will show more detail in creases of skin, the weave and fold of clothing,
individual strands of hair. Sensory modality also accentuates texture in order to
create affect. For example, photographs of food in glossy magazines are highly
sensory due to the detail of texture portrayed and intense coloration
the droplets of
water on grapes, the viscosity of a sauce, the glaze of cherries (Kress and Van
Leeuwen 2006, 171)
all of which aim to produce an effect of mouth-watering
desirability experienced in both the body and mind. Although smoothness in specific
does not feature in the account that Kress and Van Leeuwen provide, the notion of
sensory modality is very relevant to its analysis. This is particularly the case when
considering smoothness as represented in photographic imagery.
Photography can achieve naturalistic or sensory modality through its ability to
capture the ‘‘realistic’’ details and textures of its subjects. However, in most
commercial imagery, the original photograph is not left to stand as it is. Instead, it
is standard practice in the commercial media industries to use Photoshop, or other
image-manipulation software programs, to ‘‘improve’’ photographs. Stray hairs
and skin blemishes are removed from portraits, unwanted bulges magicked away,
extra shine added to images of commodities, and colours fixed and accentuated.
The practice of touching up or manipulating photographs has a history as
long as that of photography itself (see Wheeler 2002, 15
24); in the digital age,
Photoshopping is a pre-publication norm. These processes selectively remove
certain naturalistic textural detail and add smoothness, thus creating distance from
a realistic modality whilst hyper-accentuating sensory associations. Touch-ups
arguably displace the naturalistic and create what might be termed a hyperreal
modality.
Baudrillard (1985, 1988) famously argued that meaning has been disconnected
from history or ethics and replaced by the image. But arguably, by paying attention
to the ‘‘smooth operational surface of communication’’ (Baudrillard 1985, 127)
in
particular, its ability to produce sensory affect
it is possible to assess whether and
how images, and the surfaces they represent, might be constituted by a set of
ideological connotations. If ideology is understood in Thompson’s (1990) terms, as
located at the interface of symbolic forms and power, then it follows that the analysis
of the former can help to illustrate hierarchies of meaning at the service of the latter.
Applied to the examination of smooth surfaces, the question that arises with regards
318 M. Iqani

to ideology is: what power relationships might be implicit in the visual and sensory
affect of smooth and shiny surfaces?
It is interesting to note that Burke, in his thesis on beauty and the sublime quoted
at the beginning of this paper, categorises the qualities of smoothness with reference
to the former: objects of beauty are those that evoke ‘‘not awe or respect’’, but ‘‘love’’
and ‘‘affection and tenderness’’ (White 2002, 32). ‘‘The physical qualities that excite
these passions are diminutive size, smoothness, delicateness or fragility and
weakness; in short, all the sorts of qualities Burke associated with beauty in women’’
(White 2002, 32). This association between smoothness and femininity is ideological:
it reflects patriarchal, heteronormative and discriminatory attitudes. It has been
argued that the role of semiotics is to dig below the ‘‘smooth surface of the beautiful’’
in order to uncover the prejudices that lie beneath (Iversen 1986 cited in Rose 2007,
76). But in texture, ideological functions can be inscribed upon the surface of a text
rather than simply be obscured by it; prejudices can embedded in the very surface of
the image as well as beneath it. Canonical semiotic scholarship addressing
commercial texts, such as that of Roland Barthes (1973, 1984), Erving Goffman
(1976) and Judith Williamson (1978) shows how images, particularly of women in
advertising, conceal deeply entrenched patriarchal power structures. However, the
role that smoothness plays in this project requires further articulation.
To further explore gendered smoothness, it is now necessary to turn to the selected
case study.

On the magazine: cover models

Magazine covers are considered prestigious sites for the appearance and promotion
of images of people or products, not only due to their cultural power as highly visible
media spaces, but also due to the luxurious tactility of the glossy paper on which they
are printed. There are commonly held assumptions in the magazine industry that
glossy monthlies are more ‘‘high-end’’ than less glossy weeklies. Indeed, the
appropriation of glossy covers by weekly celebrity and fashion magazines in order
to shake off the ‘‘low-end’’ label is evidence of the power of glossy paper (for an
overview of changes in the women’s magazine market, see Gough-Yates 2007).
Magazines are commonly displayed, sold, looked at and purchased at newsstands. In
magazine newsstands, sections aimed at men are filled with a variety of magazines
presumed to hold particular interest for men, including car and ‘‘lad’’ magazines.3
Figures 1 and 2 are photographs from a newsstand in London, showing the display
of both genres of magazine. The selection of two texts from each part of the ‘‘Men’s
Interest’’ sections of the newsstand allows for a close analysis of the role of
smoothness in the constitution of meaning in the images.
The four magazines selected as case studies are: Arena (January 2008), Autocar
(September 2007), FHM (October 2007) and Topgear (November 2007). All four
texts were sourced from London newsstands as pictured in Figures 1 and 2, are
typical of the genre of men’s lifestyle (or ‘‘lad magazines’’) and car magazines, and,
according to their marketing material, claim men (presumably heterosexual) as
their primary audience.4 For example, Topgear claims that it is ‘‘the perfect
environment for targeting a male audience’’ (BBC Magazines 2010) and FHM is
listed under Bauer Media’s ‘‘Men’s Brands’’ (Bauer Media 2008). Arena (see Figure
 Social Semiotics 319

Figure 1. Men’s lifestyle (or ‘‘lad’’) magazines displayed on a newsstand shelf in central
London, November 2007. Photograph by author with permission of store management.

3) features a portrait of actress Mischa Barton, cropped at the crown and mid-
thigh. Barton wears tight black briefs, a white waistcoat cinched in at the waist by a
wide, black PVC belt, and a loosened purple satin bow tie. Her long brown hair is
swept over her right shoulder and she gestures as though just about to tuck it
behind her left ear. She faces the camera and pouts, making seductive eye contact
with the viewer. Also typical of a style-magazine aimed at men, FHM (see Figure 4)
also features a young female celebrity: Hayden Panetierre. She wears a black mini-
dress with a patent leather belt and stands with her right hip canted, her hands
resting on her outer thighs. Her long blonde hair cascades over both shoulders; her
gaze is also directed at the viewer. These two portraits of young, beautiful, desirable
and famous women wearing sexy clothes can be considered typical of the types of
images favoured by men’s magazines in this genre. Autocar (see Figure 5) features a
photograph of a red BMW X6. It is angled to the left of the page, its bodywork and
black-tinted windows shining with a high polish. Smaller photographs of other cars
are inset along the right and bottom edges of the frame. Similarly, Topgear (see
Figure 6) shows the Aston Martin DBS in silver, extravagantly lit by a variety of
neon colours and apparently captured in mid-motion as it traverses a night-time
highway.
There exists in commercial communication, especially advertising, a long
tradition of creating semiotic links between images of women and cars. Women
320 M. Iqani

Figure 2. Men’s motoring magazines displayed on a newsstand shelf in central London,

November 2007. Photograph by author with permission of store management.

have been objectified in the same visual language in which cars as superlative
commodities are presented as objects of desire: from the classic sexism of the
‘‘woman draped over the car bonnet’’ strategy of 1970s advertising, to postfeminist
media culture in which women as active, desiring subjects are positioned as the sexy
drivers or admirers of the latest sports car model (see Gill 2007a,b,2008), there is no
doubt that there exists a shared ideological basis for commercial imagery of women
and cars. The discussion that follows seeks to demonstrate this ideological link
through a focus on one of its elements: smoothness. This focus will necessarily mean
that other important elements of the images (such as wording, colour and space) are
not addressed. The many connotations of smoothness outlined at the beginning of
the paper, combined with a critical feminist perspective, provide the analytical
framework.

Smooth bodywork
How does smoothness contribute to the objectification and commoditisation of the
images of women and, conversely, the eroticisation and feminisation of the images of
cars? As well as following the denotation/connotation analytical approach, to answer
this question the ‘‘commutation test’’ is employed in order to assess the importance
 Social Semiotics 321

Figure 3. Arena magazine, September 2007. Image reproduced with kind permission of
Kenneth Cappello Studio.

of smoothness. In this test, the analyst examines how meaning would change if one
element of a text was exchanged for another (Kress 2010, 89).

The texture of objectified femininity

In the images of the women, several smooth materials dominate the visual elements
present (Figures 3 and 4).
The most noticeable smooth surface present in the Arena and FHM images is
skin. Barton’s arms and thighs are unclothed, her neck, shoulders and part of her
chest are bare. Panetierre’s shoulders, arms and chest are also exposed, and a hint of
thigh is visible at the bottom of the frame, where the image is cropped in order to
show the hemline of her dress. Both women have flawless complexions and very
smooth foreheads and cheeks. The skin is deliberately emphasised through the use of
lighting. Panetierre is lit from her right such that her forehead and cheekbone, left
shoulder and forearm and cleavage reflect the studio lighting, creating a sense of sun-
kissed luminosity. Barton’s portrait is flooded with a cooler light that faces her,
creating an ethereal and delicate shimmer off her pale skin. Recall the connotations
associated with smooth skin: privilege and a position of safety from violence, youth
and femininity. Their smooth skin communicates the message that these cover
models are privileged individuals. If we were to imagine their skin scarred, tattooed,
322 M. Iqani

Figure 4. FHM, October 2007. Image reproduced with kind permission of Bauer Media
Group.

damaged, or diseased instead of perfectly smooth, radiant and healthy, entirely

different messages about their social status would ensue.
Celebrities are perhaps the most iconic contemporary symbols of privilege.
Scholarship examining the phenomenon of celebrity evidences two broad patterns of
media representation. The first invokes divinity and distance, the second proximity
and mortality. Giles (2000) makes a distinction between the special status of
celebrities and the ordinariness of everyday people. Rojek (2001, 74
87) discusses
what he terms ceremonies of ascent and descent, which are essentially the mediated
processes through which celebrity status is achieved, and then challenged, destroyed
or soured. Hermes (1995) discusses the ways in which women’s magazines include
both friendly and malicious gossip about celebrities, the former building up their
reputations, the latter breaking them down. Marshall (1997) argues that film stars
engender a sense of distance and inaccessibility while television stars encourage a
closer identification and sense of proximity to viewers. The portraits of Barton and
Panetierre clearly evidence the first set of connotations. Their privileged celebrity-
status is evidenced by their smooth, un-blemished
and notably white
skin, which
is further accentuated through lighting that invokes a sense of radiance and divinity.
Furthermore, the two women are examples of the stereotypical version of
heteronormative feminine ‘‘beauty’’; their slim, curvaceous bodies are postured in
sensual ‘‘pin-up girl’’ styles. Their smooth skin contributes to a normative ideal of
 Social Semiotics 323

feminine beauty: that it is the domain of the young. The ageism of consumer media is
common knowledge; fashion magazines have ‘‘traditionally excluded the ‘older
woman’, preferring to focus on the youthful’’ (Grove-White 2001, 9). Barton was 22
years old and Panetierre was aged 18 at the time the magazines were published

although it is unknown how long before publication the photographs were taken.
Their smooth, fresh faces are free of wrinkles, instead plump with adolescent vitality.
This youthfulness is unambiguously feminine. Their soft, hairless skin accentuates
this sexualised femininity, which stereotypes women as soft, smooth and delicate5

very much in the vein appreciated by Burke almost 300 years ago.
The texture of fabric also contributes to the sexualisation of the portraits. Both
models are provocatively dressed in outfits designed to titillate the viewer. Both
Barton and Panetierre wear clothing featuring smooth and shiny materials,
accentuated by the reflection of the camera flash and studio lighting, which echo
the sexualised symbolism of smooth skin. Barton’s satin bowtie, although ‘‘bor-
rowed’’ from the male wardrobe, is feminised by being untied, suggesting that she is
in the process of getting undressed, as well as through its textural association with
her skin and its similarity in colour to her lipstick. The waist belt that constrains her
waist to tiny proportions and the colour and texture of the shiny PVC evokes well-
established associations with sexual subcultures such as bondage and S&M that
favour tight leather or rubber garments. Panetierre’s all-black garb hints at a similar
fetishised sexualisation due to the patent shine of her belt.
Next it is necessary to consider the ideological functions of smooth skin and
shiny clothing. Arguably these textures play a key role in commoditising images of
the female body.
Precisely because smoothness in women is a clear sign of stereotypical ‘‘beauty’’,
it connotes the heterosexual male gaze (Mulvey 1989). This classic critique of the
ways in which women are represented in media as passive and meek recipients of a
sexually desiring gaze (as objects rather than subjects) unfortunately still holds much
relevance, especially in considering many genres of consumer magazines directed at
men. The two models’ smooth skin, which signifies their youth, also suggests
innocence, passivity and controllability. Although there is also an element of a
postfeminist sensibility (Gill 2007b) in the portraits
in which the models are
represented as freely embracing and celebrating their sexual attractiveness, using it to
advance their careers
their posture, attire, expressions and the message of sexual
docility encoded in their smoothness presents them as image-objects rather than as
active subjects. The central role that smooth and shiny textures play in this sexual
objectification can be demonstrated by imagining how different the message
‘‘sexiness’’ would be if the skin was mottled, bruised, wrinkled, blotchy or hairy
instead of flawless and smooth; or if the outfits comprised rough, loose-fitting linen
instead of tight-fitting, shiny fabrics.
As such, the two cover portraits set up a sense of fantasised commodification: the
women become image-objects that are constructed for visual pleasure and sexual
fantasy. They are unblemished objects: young, fresh, ‘‘new’’, virginal. As such, they
invite fantasies of consummation. In a discussion of the ‘‘latent terrorism’’ of Elle
magazine, Baudrillard (1970, 133) argues that its discourse suggests readers should
remake their bodies into ‘‘smoother, more perfect, more functional’’ objects
like
those of Barton and Panetierre. The smooth bodywork of female cover models is
linked with the project of sexual commoditisation; in order to operate as such, their
324 M. Iqani

bodies must conform to a notion of youthful, flawless beauty. In commercial

imagery, the burden of a commodified body appearing sexy through being perfectly
smooth (and of course, slender) is a feminised project.6 In these images smoothness is
not only gendered, signifying stereotypical ‘‘sexy’’ femininity, but it also operates to
associate the feminine bodies with commodities.
To develop this claim, the discussion turns next to an analysis of the examples of
images of luxury cars. It is argued that the smooth surfaces represented there are part
of a project of feminising the commodity.

The smoothness of feminised commodities

The most noticeable aspect of both the Autocar and Topgear cover images is the
texture of the bodywork of both cars that are highly polished, smooth and very shiny
(Figures 5 and 6). The cars are angled diagonally across the page such that their
bonnets are pointed to the bottom left, communicating a sense of speed and
sophistication. They both appear, as Barthes observed of his Citroën, to have ‘‘fallen
from the sky’’ (1973, 88) and landed on the road, wheels spinning and bodywork
smooth and polished. The cars are superlative commodities presented for visual
consumption and imagined ownership on the magazine cover. This sense is created
through the interaction of smooth surfaces and lighting. Both vehicles are dazzlingly
brilliant; their gleaming surfaces reminiscent of mythical UFOs, suggesting an
almost supernatural status. The metallic textures create a visual effect that the objects
somehow contain the light. In the Topgear image, the car’s headlights are switched
on, adding another element of dazzling lighting to the already brilliant display.
Car bodywork is an important example of the perfectly smooth surfaces common
to consumer culture. The smooth surfaces of commodities signify modernity and
technological advancement, as well as their newness. Polished car bonnets
fresh
from the production line
are arguably one of the glossiest surfaces known to
contemporary consumer society, and evoke a very tactile and almost erotic set of
connotations. Artist Patricia Piccinini’s sculptures, ‘‘Car Nuggets’’, explore this
tactility and the yearning desire to touch invoked by car bodywork by appropriating
and manipulating it into a non-functional, purely aesthetic object that abstracts the
texture of smoothness. The seamless, smooth angles of her sculptures distil the
‘‘essence’’ of the car into a ‘‘nugget’’ of glossy surfaces, which although abstract in
shape are still recognisable as ‘‘automotive forms’’ (Milne 1999). The smooth
paintwork and metallic bodywork of car surfaces connote a sense of unsullied
newness that is at the core of their desirability. Cover images of cars suggest a kind of
freshly produced perfection that emerges from the production line: the cars are brand
new, un-used and ready for consumption, ownership and possession. If the surfaces
were cracked, scratched, dented or rusty, an entirely different set of messages would
ensue.
Barthes (1973, 88) discusses the aesthetic properties of the automobile, arguing
that it ‘‘appears at first sight as a superlative object’’ and in it can be seen ‘‘a
perfection and an absence of origin, a closure and a brilliance, a transformation of
life into matter’’. This message of perfection is directly related to the car’s status as a
commodity. It is worth noting that the posture, angle and framing of the Autocar and
Topgear photographs are almost identical to the trope of car advertisements. On the
reverse side of each front cover appears an advertisement for a new model of car: the
 Social Semiotics 325

Figure 5. Autocar magazine, 12 September 2007. Image reproduced with kind permission of
Haymarket Media Group.

Mazda CX-7 on the inside cover of Autocar and the Alfa 147 Sport on the cover of
Topgear. Both advertisements show red cars in motion, the cars angled diagonally
across the page, bonnets gleaming and wheels spinning, just like the images
currently under consideration. Thus, the portraits of the Aston Martin and BMW
are merely thinly veiled advertisements that promote the availability on the open
market of luxury cars, suggesting that anyone could own and possess such a thing.
It is this promise of possessing a brand-new, just-manufactured and flawless
commodity that is communicated in the textures of smoothness and shininess.
Considering the ideological roles played by the shiny smoothness of car
bodywork, it is argued that the ‘‘flawless’’ commodity perfection of the images is
feminised through the invocation of erotic connotations.
As already noted, the association of women with cars has a long history in
commercial communication. Despite the decline of sexist car advertisements showing
a woman over the bonnet of a car (Gill 2008), the semiotic indicators linking the
objectified female body and the luxury object of the car persist, suggesting that the
‘‘if this car were a woman . . .’’ fantasy still underlies a great deal of portrayals of cars,
such as those on Autocar and Topgear. A parallel is evident between the smoothness
of car bodywork and the smoothness of female skin. It is this textural association
that renders the surfaces of the cars erotic, as well as the soft curves of the cars that
326 M. Iqani

Figure 6. Topgear magazine, November 2007. Image reproduced with kind permission of
BBC Publishing.

evoke the feminine body and the red paintwork of the Autocar BMW, which mimics
the sexually charged hue of red lipstick. In these ways, the smooth polish of the
bodywork feminises and eroticises the car as a luxury commodity. Sennett (2006)
argues that consuming passion can be related to a sense of potency, which is offered
for sale in the material design and imagery of machines such as cars. This sense of
potency is largely due to the erotic associations of the smooth texture and curves of
car bodywork, which invites an ideational form of fantasy centred on potency and
the possibility of consumption. The cars are virginal, awaiting the consumption
(consummation) of the viewer.
Next it is necessary consider the ways in which smoothness as a semiotic form, as
evidenced in the preceding analyses of smoothness in images of women and cars in
magazine covers, can be understood to intersect with the politics of gender in
magazine cover imagery.

The politics of smoothness

The analysis of smooth surfaces in the four images presented has highlighted how
ideological meanings about gender can be inscribed at the level of surface, and are
not only encoded in hidden discourses. This is particularly evident in the relationship
 Social Semiotics 327

of smoothness to messages about femininity and consumption. The images of both

types of cover models
the sexy young women, the sexy brand-new cars
are high in
sensory modality. The viewer is invited to imagine what it would be like to touch the
skin or the armature, to seduce the celebrities or get in the driver’s seat and turn the
ignition key. Through this indulgence in fantasised rather than actualised sensuality,
the images take on a hyperreal dimension. These hyperreal and sensory modalities
are partly achieved through the exploitation of smooth textures, in turn embedded in
an ideological project.
It is striking how close is the association between sexualised femininity and the
representation of smooth surfaces on women and cars. An important material
element of the visual experience of magazine covers is the way in which light is
harnessed to, and plays off, texture: the material smoothness of the glossy paper
that characterises the media genre as well as the textures portrayed in magazine
cover imagery, most notably that of female skin and the bodywork of cars. The two
forms of ‘‘smooth bodywork’’ discussed in this paper are enmeshed within the
politics of the representation of femininity. It has been argued that the types of
smoothness upon which the four images rely can be analysed in terms of the
relationship between the representations of femininity and commodities. Articulat-
ing the role of smoothness thus brings another dimension to existing feminist
critique of images featuring women or exploiting stereotypical notions of
femininity and highlights how smoothness is an important semiotic resource
utilised in commercial communication.
The glossiness of magazines is rooted in an extremely seductive form of
aestheticisation that employs material strategies to create images that, on the
surface, appear to float free in an unproblematic, hyperreal, sensory domain. One
core element of this form of representation is smooth texture. Returning to Burke’s
arguments about smoothness as a quality intrinsic to beauty, it is clear that this
ideological perspective can be identified in contemporary magazine cover imagery,
which privileges smooth bodywork in the representation of both women and cars,
two of the most desirable objects in the visual lexicon of consumerism. Smooth
skin remains desirable in ‘‘fine women’’, as do smooth surfaces in objects created
by human labour (had cars existed at the time of Burke’s formulation, he may well
have enthused about them instead of polished wood furniture). What, then, is the
ideological implication of these connotations of smoothness, alongside those
summarised in the preliminary typology, in the western aesthetic? Eagleton (1990,
40
41) argues: ‘‘if ideology is to work efficiently, it must be pleasurable, intuitive,
self-ratifying: in a word, aesthetic’’. Textures of smoothness are arguably central to
creating a sense of self-ratifying, sensory pleasure in the images discussed in this
paper. It is the seductive surfaces of the models (both ‘‘girls’’ and cars) that
evoke immediate visual pleasure and promises the possibility of consummated
pleasure later. Smooth bodywork is a signifier for an aesthetic modality that is
rooted in social inequalities. In the non-magazine cover world, skin is rarely
perfect, youthful and unblemished and cars are scratched, dented, and subject
to the vagaries of the weather the moment they leave the showroom. The power of
smooth textures in commercial images is rooted in the heteronormativity
of fantasy worlds populated by flawless celebrities, sex symbols and a plethora
of perfect machines, all of which are built upon the many intertwined connotations
that smooth materials have.
328 M. Iqani

In both the materiality and the imagery of magazine covers, the smoothness of
the surfaces of cars echoes the smoothness of perfect, healthy skin, unbroken by
blemishes, again echoed by the smooth, glossy surface of the paper on which the
images are printed. Arguably, commodity smoothness mirrors ideological messages
of perfection, ‘‘beauty’’, and even divinity
all of which are tinged with a constant
hum of sexualisation configured in the traditionally patriarchal and heteronormative
mode (woman/car as object being looked at with desire; male as active subject doing
the looking). Visual representation often merely needs to hint at a smooth surface
suggestive of skin (such as the bodywork of a car) to evoke an erotic imagination. As
Schroeder and McDonagh (2006, 220) argue: ‘‘it is not enough merely to assume that
‘‘sex sells’’, we need to understand why images are considered sexy’’. This article has
shown that one reason that images are considered sexy is through the presence of
smooth surfaces.

Conclusion
As Owyong (2009) points out, individual semiotic resources cannot be considered as
functioning independently of others. This paper has focused on smoothness in
magazine cover images of women and cars in order to highlight the role it plays, not
to suggest that this semiotic resource operates in a vacuum. Textures cannot ‘‘mean’’
on their own, but only in combination with other modes such as image, colour and
layout. Smoothness is an important semiotic tool in the toolkit of ideological
communication and it requires further analytical attention. Building upon a review
of the many connotations that smooth surfaces might have, this paper has argued
that a gendered project is at play in textures prioritised by those designing magazine
cover images of desirable female celebrities and luxury cars.
The intention of this paper has been to highlight the importance of smoothness as
a semiotic and ideological resource in images in two genres of consumer magazines
that claim men as their primary audience. The arguments put forward here point to a
number of additional questions that require attention. In what other forms of
consumer media, besides magazine covers, does gendered smoothness figure as a
central communicative resource? Is this texture limited to the domain of consumption
and commodification or is smoothness also operationalised in other domains such as
political communication? How does smoothness interact with other ideological
structures of communication, besides the gendered? What role does smoothness play
in media representations in non-Anglo-American cultures? What could an analysis of
the role of smoothness in the aesthetics of advertisements, films, music videos and
television programming contribute to existing bodies of scholarship in those areas?
These, and surely other, areas will require further interrogation and analysis as the
study of the role of smooth textures in visual communication unfolds.

Acknowledgements
The author would like to thank the anonymous reviewers for incisive and constructive
criticism that was indispensable in developing this paper. Lilie Chouliaraki also provided
helpful comments on an earlier draft.
 Social Semiotics 329

Notes
1. In linguistics and classic semiotics, texture means ‘‘textuality’’; that is, the coherence of a
piece of communication that defines it as a text. This usage is rooted in the Greek ‘‘techne’’,
meaning to make or produce crafts, including various forms of weaving and intertwining
(hence the connections between the words text, texture and textile) (Gorlee 2004, 17). In
this paper, ‘‘texture’’ is used instead to refer to the material qualities of surfaces and
substances, experienced by touch and recognised by sight.
2. Arena magazine was closed down by its publisher, Bauer Media, in March 2009 after having
failed to make a profit for some time; its last set of circulation figures was under 30,000 (see
Brook 2009). The same publisher produces FHM, which in 2008 sold approximately
280,000 copies per month and was the market leader in the men’s magazine category (Bauer
Media 2008). Autocar is published by the Haymarket Media Group, and averages sales of
over 47,000 per week (Haymarket Media Group 2010). Topgear Magazine has a circulation
of over 200,000 per month (BBC Magazines 2010), is a spin-off from the well-known BBC
TV show and is published by BBC Magazines, one of the BBC’s commercial enterprises.
3. ‘‘Lad’’ magazines seek to recreate ‘‘football-watching male camaraderie’’ and celebrate a
‘‘young, hedonistic, loud version of masculinity’’ (Gill 2007a, 208
216).
4. See note 2 for circulation figures.
5. The distinction between ‘‘feminine smoothness’’ and ‘‘masculine roughness’’ is increasingly
problematised, not only by queer culture but also in its appropriation by mass media. A
marked trend towards the eroticisation (some might argue the feminisation) of the male
body is noticeable, in which smooth, hairless and eroticised male bodies are increasingly
visible in contemporary media culture (see Gill 2007a, 97
100). Despite this, however, a
brief glance at the covers of magazines at the newsstand will evidence that more women are
represented as smooth and sexy, with more men represented as rough and hardy.
6. This is not to suggest that certain media genres
for example, fitness and style magazines
aimed at men
do not also impose masculine body regulation projects (see Gill, Henwood,
and McLean 2000, 2004).

Notes on contributors
Mehita Iqani is Senior Lecturer in Media Studies at the University of the Witwatersrand,
Johannesburg, South Africa. Her first book is Consumer Culture and the Media: Magazines in
the Public Eye (Palgrave MacMillan, 2012).

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