In the vibrant and ever-evolving world of pop music, image is everything. And few stages spotlight that truth more dramatically than Coachella. When South African breakout star Tyla stepped out at Coachella 2025 in a stunning green bra top, micro denim shorts, and a body chain, the crowd was immediately abuzz—not just with admiration, but with accusations.
Social media quickly lit up with comparisons to Britney Spears’ iconic 2001 MTV VMAs look from her “I’m a Slave 4 U” performance. While some fans praised the outfit as a bold homage to pop history, others were less kind, accusing Tyla of outright copying Spears. But Tyla wasn’t having it. With a candid response on X (formerly Twitter), she declared, “Love her but I just thought the outfit was fly … no inspo,” and later followed up with a blunt “stfu” when criticisms turned pointed.
This moment wasn’t just a typical pop culture skirmish—it tapped into a broader discussion about creativity, originality, and the burden of comparisons in the music industry, especially for young Black women redefining their own lanes.
Tyla’s Rise: A New Voice from the Global South
Before diving into the controversy, it’s essential to understand who Tyla is. Born Tyla Laura Seethal in Johannesburg, South Africa, the 22-year-old singer skyrocketed to international fame with her 2023 hit “Water.” The song fused Afropop rhythms with sleek R&B sensibilities and introduced global audiences to what many described as a new wave of African pop stardom.
Her aesthetic—often blending Y2K fashion, bold glam, and Afrocentric influences—quickly drew praise for its freshness. Yet, as her visibility grew, so did the scrutiny. For artists like Tyla, whose careers bloom in the digital age, every fashion choice and dance move becomes part of a wider, sometimes overwhelming narrative.
The Britney Spears Comparison: Coincidence or Cultural Callback?
To some fans, the outfit Tyla wore at Coachella was undeniably reminiscent of Britney Spears’ 2001 VMA look—a defining moment in pop history. But Tyla’s insistence that there was “no inspo” brings up a critical question: Can two artists wear similar outfits without it being derivative?
In fashion and performance, cultural echoes are inevitable. Pop culture is inherently referential. Madonna, for instance, was accused of mimicking Marilyn Monroe in the ‘80s, yet she built a career out of taking old iconography and spinning it into something new. Similarly, Beyoncé has worn outfits that call back to Diana Ross and Tina Turner, not as imitation, but as homage.
What Tyla faced was different. Her Coachella look was pitted against Spears’ not as an appreciative nod, but as a possible theft—a framing often reserved for artists of color.
A Double Standard in Pop Perception
There’s a critical racial subtext to the way Tyla was criticized. Black artists, especially women, have long been policed in ways their white counterparts are not. When a Black woman like Tyla dons a style that evokes nostalgia, she is “copying.” When a white artist like Olivia Rodrigo or Sabrina Carpenter does it, it’s framed as “vintage-inspired” or “retro-chic.”
Tyla’s frustration with the comparisons is both personal and systemic. In a June 2024 interview with Dazed, she said:
“Honestly, when people bring up these references, most of the time there was never a reference. It’s never, ‘Make the video look completely like this.’ It’s getting boring now.”
Her words reflect the exhaustion many artists feel when constantly told their creativity is derivative rather than authentic. Tyla emphasized that her choreography often emerges spontaneously, from moments of inspiration in the studio or on stage—not from boardroom decisions to mimic others.
Creativity in the Age of Comparison
In today’s hyperconnected world, originality is paradoxically both demanded and punished. Artists are expected to be “innovative,” but any nod to past eras becomes grounds for critique. For Tyla, whose aesthetic naturally taps into the Y2K revival currently sweeping fashion and music, this becomes especially tricky.
That Y2K styles are back isn’t news—low-rise jeans, body chains, platform sandals, and crop tops are all over runways, music videos, and Instagram feeds. Tyla isn’t copying Britney Spears. She’s engaging with a broader cultural resurgence. But because Spears is such a prominent reference point for early 2000s fashion, any similarity triggers accusations.
What critics often overlook is that Tyla is reinterpreting these aesthetics through her own lens. At Coachella’s first weekend, she wore a vintage 2000 Dolce & Gabbana outfit and Pandora jewelry. At the 2024 MTV EMAs, she channeled Aaliyah with a recreation of her 2000 VMAs Roberto Cavalli look. These weren’t acts of mimicry; they were cultural dialogues.
Fashion and Ownership: Who Gets to Be Inspired?
Part of the firestorm around Tyla’s outfit stems from a larger question: Who gets to borrow from history, and who gets labeled as a thief?
Fashion has always been cyclical. From the 1970s disco revival of the 1990s to the grunge revival of the 2010s, artists borrow, remix, and reinvent. Yet for artists of color, especially Black women, this borrowing is often weaponized against them.
The same audiences who fawn over Billie Eilish’s oversized 2000s streetwear might turn around and accuse someone like Tyla of “copying” if she wears similar pieces. This inconsistency reveals the deeper biases in how pop stars are perceived based on race, nationality, and genre.
The Burden of Global Stardom
As a South African artist operating on a global stage, Tyla represents more than just herself. She carries the weight of representing a region historically excluded from mainstream pop narratives. That alone makes her visibility revolutionary.
But that visibility comes with a burden. Every step Tyla takes is scrutinized more closely because she’s breaking new ground. Her success challenges a Western-centric model of pop stardom, and that makes her a target for criticism that often masquerades as critique.
What Tyla experienced at Coachella wasn’t just backlash over an outfit—it was a reflection of the discomfort some feel when traditional power centers are challenged.
Fans Rally in Defense
Despite the criticism, Tyla’s fan base showed up in force to defend her. Many pointed out that even if she had been inspired by Britney, there’s nothing wrong with drawing from pop history. Others emphasized how male artists often get away with blatant imitation without similar outrage.
One fan wrote on X:
“If a male rapper samples Biggie or dresses like Tupac, it’s ‘paying respect.’ But Tyla wears a cute outfit and y’all act like she burned down Britney’s house. Be serious.”
Such responses highlight a growing awareness among pop audiences about the double standards artists face—and a readiness to call them out.
Tyla’s Response: Owning Her Narrative
Rather than backtrack or apologize, Tyla stood firm. Her clapback was more than a viral moment—it was a declaration of autonomy.
By saying “no inspo,” Tyla was asserting her right to creative independence. Her blunt “stfu” was a reminder that artists are not here to be passive recipients of critique. They are individuals with vision, agency, and a right to defend their art.
In a world where social media rewards outrage and outrage drives clicks, Tyla’s refusal to shrink into silence was a powerful act of resistance.
Conclusion: Redefining Pop on Her Own Terms
The Tyla-Britney “controversy” isn’t really about fashion. It’s about ownership—of image, creativity, and legacy. Tyla isn’t trying to be the next Britney Spears. She’s trying to be the first Tyla.
In doing so, she joins a lineage of women—especially Black women—who have had to fight for the right to be original in an industry that too often tells them they’re not enough on their own.
Tyla’s moment at Coachella may have sparked debate, but it also cemented her status as an artist unafraid to clap back, stand tall, and own her story. And as pop music continues to evolve, that fearlessness may prove to be her most iconic look of all.
